FIC: If The Slipper Fits (Arthur/Gwen, AU, PG-13) 1/3
Written for the tobreakthespell contest and based on Cinderella.
A/N: Many, many thanks to the wonderful_autumncolours for betaing this and generally being awesome.
***
Once upon a time in the kingdom of Far Far Away, the king and queen arrived back home after their week away tending to duties. They were relieved to find the kingdom in order and the castle still standing, but what they didn’t expect to find was the banqueting hall trashed and what appeared to be various young, noble people passed out on the floor.
The queen tutted while the king frowned and circulated the sprawled out bodies, trying to find the perpetrator for all of this. He found him unconscious amid the platter of cheese and a few empty tankards of ale.
The king nudged the figure on the floor with his foot, but he didn’t move.
Growing angry, the king turned to his wife and said, “Didn’t I explicitly tell him that there were to be no extravagant feasts in our absence?”
The queen came to stand beside him and placed a sympathetic hand on his arm. “You did, Uther.”
“Then what in good heavens is all this?”
Queen Igraine let out a sigh. “This is your son, breaking the rules. You know what young men are like- foolish and without a care in the world.”
“He has just come of age and is the future king! He should have at least some care in the world, and I will not stand for such frivolities!”
“Then you must be firm with him, dear.”
King Uther nodded. “You’re right, Igraine; I must be firm with him.” The king thought about this for a moment, contemplating how to demonstrate such firmness. “He needs to act more like an adult,” he decided.
The queen nodded.
“He needs to stop foolishly cavorting with women,” he said, eyeing a few women in various states of undress surrounding the prince.
The queen nodded again.
“At his age, our son should have more responsibility and self-awareness.”
The queen nodded once more.
“Igraine, I think that it is about time our son got married.”
The queen let out a little gasp of surprise. “Are you sure?”
“Most certainly! We have left him to his own devices for much too long, and look at his behaviour now! Why, at his age, we were already married and king and queen of the kingdom; if we could handle that, why can’t he handle the responsibility of a wife?”
Because he’s my little boy! The queen wanted to say, but then she realised that was the problem. Her son was of age and yet she still treated him like he was a little child who needed to be pampered at every turn. She admitted to herself that it had made her son spoilt and irresponsible and realised her husband was right: her son did need a sense of responsibility, and marrying a fine woman seemed like a good way to instil this.
“I agree, dear. But who will we choose to marry him? I don’t think that any of the ladies of Court are exactly befitting for our son,” Igraine said, eyeing the ladies with disapproval.
“We shall have a ball,” the king announced. “We will invite all the eligible maids from across the kingdom to come, and he may pick the one he gets on best with.”
As the queen nodded at her husband’s brilliant idea, the sound of groaning came from the prone figure by their feet.
***
Quite a few miles from the heart of Far Far Away, Gwen stood in the living room of her step-mother’s house, busy dusting as her step-sisters practised their singing, although singing wasn’t the word Gwen would use.
As Morgana screeched and Vivian howled, the Lady Catrina watched on; her daughters high-pitched squealing apparently music to her ears.
Trying not to look too discomfited by the noise, Gwen carried on cleaning. She still had a list of chores to do, where as her step-sisters had a day of pampering ahead of them. Even though they lived under the same roof, their lives couldn’t be more different: the girls were at want for nothing, whereas Gwen was treated like a servant by her own family.
Letting out a sigh, she watched as Morgana with her perfect, dark hair and alabaster skin strived to hit the high notes, and Vivian with her golden hair and fragile looks tried her hardest to accompany her. On the outside her step-sisters were beautiful and a vision to all who saw them, but there was no beauty to be found within them. Lazy, bitchy, obnoxious and at times down-right spiteful, they could be as mean to each other as they could with Gwen.
Her thoughts was disrupted by a knock on the door, and the glare from her step-mother demanded that she go and answer it. Sighing again and putting down her duster, she proceeded towards the door. Opening it, she was surprised to find a royal aide standing there.
“Good morning ma’am,” the plump man said with a bow of his head.
Gwen was a little taken back. Was he talking to her? No one ever addressed her formally.
“I have a letter from the palace,” the man continued.
“The palace?” Gwen questioned. Why on earth would they be receiving a letter from the palace? “What’s it about?”
“Ah, you’ll just have to read it and see. But the news will best please a young woman such as yourself,” he said with a smile. “Good day,” he bid, before walking off.
Her brow furrowed in confusion, Gwen walked back into the living room with the sealed letter in her hand.
“Well?” Lady Catrina demanded. “Who was at the door?”
“I think it was-,” she began.
But her stepmother had eyes like an eagle and spotting the royal crest on the envelope, she walked over to Gwen and snatched it off of her before she could finish.
Ripping it open, Lady Catrina began to read the letter, and let out a gasp as she finished.
“Girls!” she cried.
Immediately, Morgana and Vivian stopped their wailing and looked at their mother.
“Girls, listen to this!” Lady Catrina sat down in an armchair. “You have been invited to a ball! At the palace!”
The girls let out squeals so loud that they threatened to deafen Gwen.
“A ball!” Vivian cried. “Oh how exciting! I can finally wear my new shoes!”
“Which are hideous,” Morgana muttered.
Not hearing her, Vivian bounced over to her mother and took the letter from her hands.
“By order of the royal household, the King and Queen of Far Far Away invite all young, eligible maids of this household to attend the ball in honour of Prince Arthur, on the eve of Beltane. That’s tomorrow!” Vivian let out another squeal and then faltered. “Wait, what’s the prince’s honour for?”
Morgana rolled her eyes. “He’s obviously looking for a bride.”
Vivian’s eyes widened. “Oh mother, that could be me!”
Lady Catrina looked on at her daughter with pride.
“Or me,” Morgana interjected.
Vivian gave Morgana a derisive look. “Oh, and you’re that alluring, are you?”
“Oh please!” Morgana snorted. “I’m prettier than you.”
“Well, I’m cuter. Plus, I have better hair.”
Morgana made a noise of outrage. “Well I-,”
“Now, now girls,” Lady Catrina began, stepping between her daughters. “You’re both beautiful,” she said, placing an arm around both of them. “To think, one of my own daughters could be married to a prince!”
The three of them let out dreamy sighs and Gwen watched on in derision. Her stepmother was certainly ambitious: one moment marrying her late father for his money and the next trying to ensnare royalty for her daughters. Gwen was just waiting for when Lady Catrina decided to take over the world.
“I shall call the dressmaker immediately!” Lady Catrina decided. “I shall have no expenses spared. My girls need to look absolutely stunning if you’re going to impress the prince. Every girl has been invited-,”
“Even me?” Gwen wondered out loud.
The three women looked at her in ridicule.
“No, not you!” Lady Catrina bit back scathingly.
Gwen shrugged and went back to cleaning.
She didn’t want to go to the ball anyway.
***
Prince Arthur let out a low moan. Apparently the one thing worst than waking up with a terrible hangover was discovering that the cause of his drinking had repercussions, and that repercussion meant being married off quicker than he could say, “bachelorhood.”
“I hate balls,” Arthur said to Sir Leon. “There’s so much...dancing.”
Sir Leon cleared his throat. “Well, generally speaking, sire, that is the whole point of a ball.”
“Are my parents trying to torture me?” Arthur wondered, ignoring his friend. “I mean, I knew I would be getting engaged sometime soon, but did they really have to arrange a ball? Couldn’t they have just... had the first suitable woman they saw marry me instead?”
Leon looked at the prince in confusion. “You mean you would rather have an arranged marriage than be able to choose from a room full of beautiful women?” He gave him a look of concern. “Sometimes I worry about you, sire.”
Arthur rolled his eyes. “Every man likes a room full of women, just not ones with their virtues still intact. Or the ones who are only after you for your money. And your status.”
“Really? Because I wouldn’t mind.”
“Really? That’s interesting,” Arthur mused, a plan beginning to brew in his head.
***
To escape from the incessant chatter about dresses and pending weddings, Gwen went to the well to fetch some water. There she found her friend, Merlin.
“Merlin!” she greeted with a smile on her face.
She watched as Merlin heaved his bucket out of the well and half of the contents spilt on the floor.
Not noticing, he turned to her with a beam and said, “Hi Gwen! How are you?”
Gwen rolled her eyes.
“Ah,” he said with understanding. “It’s one of those days is it?”
“Every day is one of those days,” she told him.
“So did you hear about the ball?”
Gwen snorted and went to stand beside him to fetch get some water. “Believe me, that’s all I’ve heard about,” she told him as she began lowering her bucket into the well.
“Are you going?” Merlin asked. “My sister is going.”
“But she’s thirteen,” she stated.
“And apparently eligible,” he said with distaste. “But I’m going to make sure she wears the longest dress, with long sleeves and a high collar with ruffles.”
“The perfect repellent,” Gwen mused.
“That and my mother is being her chaperone,” Merlin said with a smirk.
“Well, I’m not going.”
“Why not? It’s a chance of a lifetime- going to a ball at the palace and dancing with a prince. How many people can say they’ve done that?”
Gwen wrinkled her nose. “I don’t even know this prince. I don’t want to go all the way to some palace because a prince I’ve never met might dance with me and might decide to marry me. And even if he does, who’s to say I want to marry him?”
“Gwen, Gwen,” Merlin chided. “Look at you! You’ve been treated like a slave in your house for the last few years and you sleep in a bare attic. You hardly go out, and besides me, the only things you converse with are the garden birds and mice. Don’t you think you deserve more than that?”
“Well yeah...but I do like talking to the animals, Merlin.”
“I’m sure you do, but your future isn’t secure in that house. Catrina will chuck you out one day. Even if you don’t want to go for the prince, at least go to enjoy yourself for once.”
Gwen contemplated this and then shook her head. “My stepmother would never allow it. She has this long list of chores planned out for me and if she could, she’d chain me to the house so I can’t escape.”
“Great,” Merlin muttered. “Is she going to the ball?”
“Most probably. She’d go to any means to make sure the prince notices her daughters.”
“Then you can sneak out after!”
“I think she might notice me at the ball. Plus, I don’t exactly have anything to wear.”
Merlin waved at her. “Magical friend here! Can turn rags into wonders! Your stepmother won’t even recognise you.”
She looked sceptical.
“I can be your fairy godmother.”
Gwen gave Merlin an odd look. “Don’t you mean fairy godfather?”
“Yeah, that too.”
“I don’t know, Merlin. I’m not exactly the type of girl who likes to dance.”
“Aren’t you the least bit curious as to what it might be like?”
Gwen shrugged and thought about it. “I have always wanted to visit the palace,” she mused. “And my father used to say that they had horses with wings there.”
A funny look passed on Merlin’s face and he placed his hands on her shoulders. “Okay, Gwen? If you don’t see any horses with wings, try not to be too disappointed, okay?”
Gwen nodded, although she didn’t understand why there wouldn’t be any horses with wings. If there was such thing as magic, flying horses weren’t too much of a stretch of the imagination, surely?
“Okay,” Gwen said. “I’ll go.”
Merlin beamed. “Excellent! I’ll come round as soon as your sisters leave. I’ll make you the belle of the ball!”
Rolling her eyes at her friend’s exuberance, Gwen began to head back home.
***
In the late hours of the night, when everyone was long asleep, Gwen finally finished her chores for the day and retired to bed.
The attic was cold when Gwen entered it, and shivering, she put on a tattered shrug. Before heading to her make-shift bed, she took off her shoes and studied them. They were an old, nude-coloured pair that was a size too small for her and had holes in that she had stitched up many times. They were the only pair she had and briefly, she wondered what it would be like to have a new pair of shoes.
Her life was so far removed from luxury that it was hard to believe than a ball might change all that.
Even still, should the prince ever decide to pick her by some strange occurrence, would she really marry him just because he could be her ticket out of here?
Most days she’d think no, but when she lay in the attic with only a thin blanket to cover her and hungry from not eating enough, she’d be quite tempted to say yes.
Part 2 here
A/N: Many, many thanks to the wonderful_autumncolours for betaing this and generally being awesome.
***
Once upon a time in the kingdom of Far Far Away, the king and queen arrived back home after their week away tending to duties. They were relieved to find the kingdom in order and the castle still standing, but what they didn’t expect to find was the banqueting hall trashed and what appeared to be various young, noble people passed out on the floor.
The queen tutted while the king frowned and circulated the sprawled out bodies, trying to find the perpetrator for all of this. He found him unconscious amid the platter of cheese and a few empty tankards of ale.
The king nudged the figure on the floor with his foot, but he didn’t move.
Growing angry, the king turned to his wife and said, “Didn’t I explicitly tell him that there were to be no extravagant feasts in our absence?”
The queen came to stand beside him and placed a sympathetic hand on his arm. “You did, Uther.”
“Then what in good heavens is all this?”
Queen Igraine let out a sigh. “This is your son, breaking the rules. You know what young men are like- foolish and without a care in the world.”
“He has just come of age and is the future king! He should have at least some care in the world, and I will not stand for such frivolities!”
“Then you must be firm with him, dear.”
King Uther nodded. “You’re right, Igraine; I must be firm with him.” The king thought about this for a moment, contemplating how to demonstrate such firmness. “He needs to act more like an adult,” he decided.
The queen nodded.
“He needs to stop foolishly cavorting with women,” he said, eyeing a few women in various states of undress surrounding the prince.
The queen nodded again.
“At his age, our son should have more responsibility and self-awareness.”
The queen nodded once more.
“Igraine, I think that it is about time our son got married.”
The queen let out a little gasp of surprise. “Are you sure?”
“Most certainly! We have left him to his own devices for much too long, and look at his behaviour now! Why, at his age, we were already married and king and queen of the kingdom; if we could handle that, why can’t he handle the responsibility of a wife?”
Because he’s my little boy! The queen wanted to say, but then she realised that was the problem. Her son was of age and yet she still treated him like he was a little child who needed to be pampered at every turn. She admitted to herself that it had made her son spoilt and irresponsible and realised her husband was right: her son did need a sense of responsibility, and marrying a fine woman seemed like a good way to instil this.
“I agree, dear. But who will we choose to marry him? I don’t think that any of the ladies of Court are exactly befitting for our son,” Igraine said, eyeing the ladies with disapproval.
“We shall have a ball,” the king announced. “We will invite all the eligible maids from across the kingdom to come, and he may pick the one he gets on best with.”
As the queen nodded at her husband’s brilliant idea, the sound of groaning came from the prone figure by their feet.
***
Quite a few miles from the heart of Far Far Away, Gwen stood in the living room of her step-mother’s house, busy dusting as her step-sisters practised their singing, although singing wasn’t the word Gwen would use.
As Morgana screeched and Vivian howled, the Lady Catrina watched on; her daughters high-pitched squealing apparently music to her ears.
Trying not to look too discomfited by the noise, Gwen carried on cleaning. She still had a list of chores to do, where as her step-sisters had a day of pampering ahead of them. Even though they lived under the same roof, their lives couldn’t be more different: the girls were at want for nothing, whereas Gwen was treated like a servant by her own family.
Letting out a sigh, she watched as Morgana with her perfect, dark hair and alabaster skin strived to hit the high notes, and Vivian with her golden hair and fragile looks tried her hardest to accompany her. On the outside her step-sisters were beautiful and a vision to all who saw them, but there was no beauty to be found within them. Lazy, bitchy, obnoxious and at times down-right spiteful, they could be as mean to each other as they could with Gwen.
Her thoughts was disrupted by a knock on the door, and the glare from her step-mother demanded that she go and answer it. Sighing again and putting down her duster, she proceeded towards the door. Opening it, she was surprised to find a royal aide standing there.
“Good morning ma’am,” the plump man said with a bow of his head.
Gwen was a little taken back. Was he talking to her? No one ever addressed her formally.
“I have a letter from the palace,” the man continued.
“The palace?” Gwen questioned. Why on earth would they be receiving a letter from the palace? “What’s it about?”
“Ah, you’ll just have to read it and see. But the news will best please a young woman such as yourself,” he said with a smile. “Good day,” he bid, before walking off.
Her brow furrowed in confusion, Gwen walked back into the living room with the sealed letter in her hand.
“Well?” Lady Catrina demanded. “Who was at the door?”
“I think it was-,” she began.
But her stepmother had eyes like an eagle and spotting the royal crest on the envelope, she walked over to Gwen and snatched it off of her before she could finish.
Ripping it open, Lady Catrina began to read the letter, and let out a gasp as she finished.
“Girls!” she cried.
Immediately, Morgana and Vivian stopped their wailing and looked at their mother.
“Girls, listen to this!” Lady Catrina sat down in an armchair. “You have been invited to a ball! At the palace!”
The girls let out squeals so loud that they threatened to deafen Gwen.
“A ball!” Vivian cried. “Oh how exciting! I can finally wear my new shoes!”
“Which are hideous,” Morgana muttered.
Not hearing her, Vivian bounced over to her mother and took the letter from her hands.
“By order of the royal household, the King and Queen of Far Far Away invite all young, eligible maids of this household to attend the ball in honour of Prince Arthur, on the eve of Beltane. That’s tomorrow!” Vivian let out another squeal and then faltered. “Wait, what’s the prince’s honour for?”
Morgana rolled her eyes. “He’s obviously looking for a bride.”
Vivian’s eyes widened. “Oh mother, that could be me!”
Lady Catrina looked on at her daughter with pride.
“Or me,” Morgana interjected.
Vivian gave Morgana a derisive look. “Oh, and you’re that alluring, are you?”
“Oh please!” Morgana snorted. “I’m prettier than you.”
“Well, I’m cuter. Plus, I have better hair.”
Morgana made a noise of outrage. “Well I-,”
“Now, now girls,” Lady Catrina began, stepping between her daughters. “You’re both beautiful,” she said, placing an arm around both of them. “To think, one of my own daughters could be married to a prince!”
The three of them let out dreamy sighs and Gwen watched on in derision. Her stepmother was certainly ambitious: one moment marrying her late father for his money and the next trying to ensnare royalty for her daughters. Gwen was just waiting for when Lady Catrina decided to take over the world.
“I shall call the dressmaker immediately!” Lady Catrina decided. “I shall have no expenses spared. My girls need to look absolutely stunning if you’re going to impress the prince. Every girl has been invited-,”
“Even me?” Gwen wondered out loud.
The three women looked at her in ridicule.
“No, not you!” Lady Catrina bit back scathingly.
Gwen shrugged and went back to cleaning.
She didn’t want to go to the ball anyway.
***
Prince Arthur let out a low moan. Apparently the one thing worst than waking up with a terrible hangover was discovering that the cause of his drinking had repercussions, and that repercussion meant being married off quicker than he could say, “bachelorhood.”
“I hate balls,” Arthur said to Sir Leon. “There’s so much...dancing.”
Sir Leon cleared his throat. “Well, generally speaking, sire, that is the whole point of a ball.”
“Are my parents trying to torture me?” Arthur wondered, ignoring his friend. “I mean, I knew I would be getting engaged sometime soon, but did they really have to arrange a ball? Couldn’t they have just... had the first suitable woman they saw marry me instead?”
Leon looked at the prince in confusion. “You mean you would rather have an arranged marriage than be able to choose from a room full of beautiful women?” He gave him a look of concern. “Sometimes I worry about you, sire.”
Arthur rolled his eyes. “Every man likes a room full of women, just not ones with their virtues still intact. Or the ones who are only after you for your money. And your status.”
“Really? Because I wouldn’t mind.”
“Really? That’s interesting,” Arthur mused, a plan beginning to brew in his head.
***
To escape from the incessant chatter about dresses and pending weddings, Gwen went to the well to fetch some water. There she found her friend, Merlin.
“Merlin!” she greeted with a smile on her face.
She watched as Merlin heaved his bucket out of the well and half of the contents spilt on the floor.
Not noticing, he turned to her with a beam and said, “Hi Gwen! How are you?”
Gwen rolled her eyes.
“Ah,” he said with understanding. “It’s one of those days is it?”
“Every day is one of those days,” she told him.
“So did you hear about the ball?”
Gwen snorted and went to stand beside him to fetch get some water. “Believe me, that’s all I’ve heard about,” she told him as she began lowering her bucket into the well.
“Are you going?” Merlin asked. “My sister is going.”
“But she’s thirteen,” she stated.
“And apparently eligible,” he said with distaste. “But I’m going to make sure she wears the longest dress, with long sleeves and a high collar with ruffles.”
“The perfect repellent,” Gwen mused.
“That and my mother is being her chaperone,” Merlin said with a smirk.
“Well, I’m not going.”
“Why not? It’s a chance of a lifetime- going to a ball at the palace and dancing with a prince. How many people can say they’ve done that?”
Gwen wrinkled her nose. “I don’t even know this prince. I don’t want to go all the way to some palace because a prince I’ve never met might dance with me and might decide to marry me. And even if he does, who’s to say I want to marry him?”
“Gwen, Gwen,” Merlin chided. “Look at you! You’ve been treated like a slave in your house for the last few years and you sleep in a bare attic. You hardly go out, and besides me, the only things you converse with are the garden birds and mice. Don’t you think you deserve more than that?”
“Well yeah...but I do like talking to the animals, Merlin.”
“I’m sure you do, but your future isn’t secure in that house. Catrina will chuck you out one day. Even if you don’t want to go for the prince, at least go to enjoy yourself for once.”
Gwen contemplated this and then shook her head. “My stepmother would never allow it. She has this long list of chores planned out for me and if she could, she’d chain me to the house so I can’t escape.”
“Great,” Merlin muttered. “Is she going to the ball?”
“Most probably. She’d go to any means to make sure the prince notices her daughters.”
“Then you can sneak out after!”
“I think she might notice me at the ball. Plus, I don’t exactly have anything to wear.”
Merlin waved at her. “Magical friend here! Can turn rags into wonders! Your stepmother won’t even recognise you.”
She looked sceptical.
“I can be your fairy godmother.”
Gwen gave Merlin an odd look. “Don’t you mean fairy godfather?”
“Yeah, that too.”
“I don’t know, Merlin. I’m not exactly the type of girl who likes to dance.”
“Aren’t you the least bit curious as to what it might be like?”
Gwen shrugged and thought about it. “I have always wanted to visit the palace,” she mused. “And my father used to say that they had horses with wings there.”
A funny look passed on Merlin’s face and he placed his hands on her shoulders. “Okay, Gwen? If you don’t see any horses with wings, try not to be too disappointed, okay?”
Gwen nodded, although she didn’t understand why there wouldn’t be any horses with wings. If there was such thing as magic, flying horses weren’t too much of a stretch of the imagination, surely?
“Okay,” Gwen said. “I’ll go.”
Merlin beamed. “Excellent! I’ll come round as soon as your sisters leave. I’ll make you the belle of the ball!”
Rolling her eyes at her friend’s exuberance, Gwen began to head back home.
***
In the late hours of the night, when everyone was long asleep, Gwen finally finished her chores for the day and retired to bed.
The attic was cold when Gwen entered it, and shivering, she put on a tattered shrug. Before heading to her make-shift bed, she took off her shoes and studied them. They were an old, nude-coloured pair that was a size too small for her and had holes in that she had stitched up many times. They were the only pair she had and briefly, she wondered what it would be like to have a new pair of shoes.
Her life was so far removed from luxury that it was hard to believe than a ball might change all that.
Even still, should the prince ever decide to pick her by some strange occurrence, would she really marry him just because he could be her ticket out of here?
Most days she’d think no, but when she lay in the attic with only a thin blanket to cover her and hungry from not eating enough, she’d be quite tempted to say yes.
Part 2 here