Reddish Hair
Challenges: gingerbread #4 - fairy godmother; chopped nuts - AU; brownie - 5000+ words
Story: Colours Don't Run
Universe: Cinderella (it pretends to be 18th century Bavaria, but clearly fails)
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 6355
Summary: The Colours Don't Run cast in a weird, 'queer'-ed Cinderella, somewhat half-heartedly set in Bavaria.
When Adrian's mother died, he and his father Joshua planted a beautiful tree in the garden beside her grave. In the winter that followed, Adrian sat beneath it every day to read his books, and occasionally mumble to the tree-bark as though it could hear him. Snow fell onto his knees and carpeted the garden, deeper each day, but still Adrian went out to read to the tree.
Joshua had been a loving husband, but he was also vain and silly. By the time the spring sun had melted the last of the snow, the Austrian woman and her daughter moved in.
Joshua's new wife was called Heiko, although Adrian was only allowed to address her as 'ma'am' and she was a proud woman with a wicked tongue. Her blonde and lovely daughter, however, was too air-headed to say a single unkind thing, and Adrian got along with her very well - even if she was rather silly.
Heiko saw all of this, and despaired - her graceful daughter shouldn't be playing with a useless boy who always had his nose in a book - and she was soon ordering Adrian around as a servant. His bedroom was given to Ute, his new step-sister, as a dressing room, where she could keep all the lovely gowns her parents bought for her, whilst Adrian had to sleep in the fireplace, covered in ash.
The boy didn't complain once about the arrangement, which suited Heiko just fine; and after a year had passed, the king put out the announcement that he was to hold a ball, for all the eligible young men and women in the country to attend. There were twitterings (which Adrian caught snatches of as he swept the floorboards) of it all being a clever ruse in order to find the stubborn prince of the kingdom a good wife, once and for all. Adrian thought quietly to himself that the prince was certainly still young enough to hold off on choosing a wife for a few more years, and maybe he'd be a good deal more open to the idea if everyone stopped bothering him. But then, no one asked his opinion anyway - except for Ute on occasion, before her mother scolded her and said the boy would be full of funny ideas from all those books he read. The sad truth was that Adrian barely had time to pick a good story up, these days, with all the work Heiko piled onto him.
He first heard that his step-sister, sweet and blonde Ute, was to attend when Heiko started squawking at her husband to buy the girl a new dress, more brilliant and costly than any he had purchased before. Joshua had absently answered the affirmative, eyes fixed on the evening newspaper.
“Dad,” Adrian sighed, when Heiko had retired upstairs for her before-bed cosmetic ritual. “Is it worth it?”
“Worth what?” Joshua mumbled, hidden behind stacks of carefully printed paper.
“All the nagging, and abuse. Is the sex really worth it?”
Blue eyes stared flatly at the boy. Joshua rolled the newspaper up, swiftly smacked his son on the head with it, and then unfolded it again all in one fluid motion. “Keep that tongue to yourself.”
“Yes, father.”
The next day, Adrian surprised his step-mother by begging to go with Ute to pick out her dress. Heiko was suspicious at first, that Adrian might try to sabotage the whole thing, out of petty revenge; but the boy sincerely reminded her that less time shopping meant more time to plan out her own costume, and eventually the vain woman relented.
Even though the boy was dusty, and dirty, with hair full of ash, Ute held his hand the whole way down the street to the dress-makers. She alternated between gushing about how splendid the ball would be, and lamenting that Adrian could not go with her.
“Oh, it's not fair! She is so wicked to you, Ade!”
Adrian smiled weakly, but it wasn't fooling anyone. “I think she's wicked to everyone, and they just choose not to notice...” he said quietly. Ute tilted her head to one side, and looked at him uncertainly.
“Maybe.”
The dress-maker wouldn't let Adrian into her shop because he was so filthy, but he settled for standing outside and gesturing wildly to Ute through the window as she browsed the selections of gowns, before choosing the perfect one. Adrian gave her two hearty thumbs-up, and the dress-maker scowled at him.
“You're so good with clothes, Ade,” Ute said appraisingly as they made their way back. She held his hand again, swinging it to and fro. “I'm hopeless with that sort of thing.”
Adrian flushed a little, and didn't say anything in reply.
Heiko gasped and gushed as Ute made her way down the stairs, as the coach arrived on the night of the ball.
“Oh, my dear, you look simply- Doesn't she just look beautiful?”
Joshua made all the appropriate noises of agreement that he had grown used to making, and then started shooing the two women towards the door.
When Adrian looked up from scrubbing the hearth, he had to admit that his sister did look very pretty in her dress. He'd known the colour was just right with her blonde locks and fair skin.
Whilst her parents were muttering to each other about 'well the coachman can just bloody wait for a moment, we're paying him, aren't we?', Ute drew closer to her brother. “Oh, Ade,” she said, with genuine pity in her voice. “I do wish you could come too...”
“Don't be silly, girl,” Heiko piped up almost immediately. She chuckled, as though her daughter had made a joke. “Adrian? Come to the ball? Why, look at the state of him. And what would he wear? No, no, it's just as well - it's a girly thing anyway.”
Joshua let out a long-suffering sigh. “Then why am I being dragged along?”
Heiko flashed him one glittering glare, before turning back to her daughter. “No, don't hug him, Ute - you'll get your dress dirty, for goodness sake! Can't you just once be grateful for all I do?”
Ute quietly apologised, and followed her parents out to the coach, pausing only to wave once back at her step-brother, knelt on the hearth.
As soon as he heard the horses pull away, Adrian threw the wash-cloth to the floor. “Hell with this.”
He went out through the back door into the dark garden, and sat beneath his mother's tree, feeling a prickling sensation behind his eyes. If he was honest to himself, he had desperately wanted to go to the ball, for all his casual shrugging off. He sighed, and then quietly began to sniffle.
“Oh, mum,” he wailed to the silent tree. “The lights, the people, all their fancy clothes and the whirling dancing. It doesn't matter that I'm not even a speck like them - just to be there would have been magical. It would have been like in my stories. The royal family in their glittering the costumes, golden candles in the ceiling. And who is she to deny it to me anyway? It's not fair anymore, it's just not fair! And-”
“Woah,” a voice began, making him jump, and clutch the tree in fear. “Enough with the sob story.”
Adrian looked up, curiously. The light shining through from the kitchen window lit up the top of the tree, and he could see a figure lounging between the branches, one leg swinging carelessly in the evening breeze. “Jesus,” they continued drily. “I was expecting a quick summary, not a whole damn novel.”
With that, the figure gracefully clambered down the tree, until a tall dark-haired girl stood in the light from the window. She was wearing man's clothes in a bright shade of red, and looked rather amused.
Adrian blinked. “Who are you, and what are you doing in my tree?”
The girl rolled her eyes theatrically. “You sent for me, silly, with all your wailing. Wishes are what you want, and wishes are what I deal in. At least, for tonight.”
Adrian wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “Oh. I always thought that it'd be my mother's spirit, or something. It's her tree.”
“Yeah, she couldn't make it,” the girl said casually, waving her hand. “She tried real hard, but rules are rules - caught up in something else. House calls can be a real pain. So, you got me instead.”
Adrian nodded vaguely, with not a single idea what she was talking about. “Right,” he said, as though he understood. “I see.”
“No, you don't - but it doesn't matter.” The girl put one hand on her hip, and flicked her hair out of her face. “OK, so, what's the problem here? I'll be honest, you were so busy monologue-ing that I kind of zoned out in the middle. Some party thing?”
Adrian nodded eagerly. “The king is holding a ball, and everyone's going to be there! All the girls in their pretty dresses, and the young men in their finery, dancing and playing party games. But, my step-mother hates me and favours her daughter, and she wouldn't let me go with them.”
The tall girl sat down beside him and drew her knees up towards her. “OK. So. Fuck her rules.”
Adrian's eyes widened. “I'm sorry?”
“Oh, wait, forget I said that,” the girl said hurriedly. “Wrong century. Whoops, easy mistake. I'm sorry, continue.”
“Right,” he said, looking uncertainly at the strange girl. “I couldn't go anyway, really, looking like this. And I haven't a thing to wear.”
The girl in red stood up decisively as soon as his voice trailed off. “All righty, Ade, my boy,” she began in a business-like tone. “Let's make a list of the things we need. Firstly, you need to get to this ball, which means transport, and in this time period I'm guessing that means a coach - therefore you'll also need an attendant or two, because we always like a certain pomp and circumstance, don't we?” She paused for a moment, and Adrian wondered whether he was supposed to reply. “Are footmen the expected thing these days?” the girl asked. “I'm so out of touch.”
Adrian looked at her as though she had been living under a rock. “I...yes, footmen are usually...yes.” He felt as though he was rather rapidly losing grip of the situation.
The girl was looking at him with a wry smile. “Oh, why did you lot ever grow up, and invent things like the Internet? You were so much more adorable like this,” she said fondly.
“I'm sorry?”
“Nothing.”
“Look,” Adrian managed. “Look, who are you, anyway?”
The girl paused in her planning of ball preparation, and looked at him oddly. “Uh. Well, that would take some time to explain, and much more than we have available to us now, so-”
“Can't I have your name? You seem to know mine.”
“Oh!” She looked genuinely surprised. “Did I forget that part? I tell you, this job is driving my marbles out... It's Teresa.”
“Just...Teresa?”
“Is that a problem?”
Adrian stammered. “Well, no. Are you a...a fairy?”
Teresa stared at him flatly. “No, I'm not a bloody - do I look like a... no. Not really, not even close.”
The boy's face fell, and he remembered all of Heiko's harsh words about keeping one's nose stuck in a book and getting fanciful ideas.
Teresa sighed pityingly. “I can be a fairy if you'd like,” she said in a resigned voice. “Now - where could you find me some mice?”
Adrian looked around them at the dark garden. “Are you joking?”
The girl winced. “Sure, the century thing - still getting used to it, not familiar with this oldey-worldey business. Mice equal everywhere, right you are - get to it, Adey, if you don't mind.”
Whilst Adrian had by this time concluded that the girl was clearly mad, he found himself doing as she said, scuttling under the hedges in search of mice. Teresa meanwhile, was hunting for a suitable coach, and soon found it.
“Oh, wow, a pumpkin!” she exclaimed. “Who still grows pumpkins?”
“Lots of people grow pumpkins,” Adrian replied defensively, from under a particularly stubborn shrub. “How many of these do I need?”
“Two should be enough if you're having difficulty.”
“If I'm having- have you seen how fast mice run? You do it yourself if you're so clever,” Adrian growled.
Teresa did not look suitably impressed. “My dear, I am not the one desperate to go the ball. You have to earn your happy ending around here.”
Eventually, Adrian caught two white mice, and brought them over to the girl waiting beside the pumpkin.
“Good job. Put them down now.”
“But they'll run away again...”
“They won't. And when they change, you don't want to be holding them.” And with that, the girl smiled broadly and snapped her fingers.
The pumpkin swiftly erupted into sparks, and Adrian threw his arm up to shield his face. When he lowered it again, hesitantly, a beautiful coach stood before him, in the mud of the vegetable garden - and beside it a footman and driver, where the two mice had been scrabbling in the dirt.
Adrian turned with wonder to the girl. “What are you?”
“A fairy,” she replied glibly. “Now tell me what's missing from this...oh, yes, horses. Internal combustion engine hasn't been invented yet.” She snapped her fingers again, and two horses calmly made their way out of the garden shed.
“Wait, how did-”
“Rats.”
“Oh.” Adrian was silent for a few moments. “Could you have done that with the mice?” he asked, suspiciously.
“Yes.” The girl beamed at him. “I just like to watch you squirm. Now, what do you think?” She swept her arm across the shining black coach.
“It, it's beautiful!” Adrian gasped. “Except, well...”
Teresa tapped one foot on the earth. “Except?”
“The flames...are they necessary?” he said awkwardly, pointing to the design emblazoned on the glossy side of the coach.
“Those kind of vinyls are all the rage!” Teresa protested.
“I don't think so,” Adrian said, firmly.
The girl sighed, and removed them with a thought. “You are the wishee.”
“And more...white.”
“Not British Racing Green?” she wheedled.
“White, please.”
“Dull. Predictable. Safe.” She flicked her wrist, and the coach was a startling white. “Everybody wants traditional. One day I'll be posted to someone with an imagination.”
Adrian ignored her last comments, and stared at his coach. “Thank you!”
“Woah, hang fire son, we're not done yet. Can't go like that. Need some, whatyoucallit. Finery. What are we thinking, a nice suit, sort of jacket-y thing? I'm not great on the styles of your decade, you'll need to give me a hint or two.”
Teresa suddenly stopped, looking awkwardly at the boy. Adrian had flushed a deep scarlet, with his eyes fixed to the muddy ground, and his hand clutched in front of him.
“Adrian? Are you all right?”
“Yes, it's just. About the clothes.”
“What about them?”
“What I'd like is...what I'd like...” he trailed off, his voice failing him.
Teresa put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Ade, you can have whatever you want. That's what makes it a wish, you know?”
“Mmm. It's...like the dresses my sister has. In her room. Like those.”
Teresa looked at him for a moment, waiting for him to go on, until it dawned on her. “Oh. Oh, I see. You want a dre- Christ, it takes all sorts, doesn't it?” This last comment was directed to the air around her instead of Adrian. “Goodness sake, don't pull that face.”
Adrian looked up at her hopefully through his shame.
“You're just a bit more...modern than current sensibilities. That's all.”
“You wear men's clothes.”
“No, no, you're quite right. If it's a dress you want, Adrian, then it's a dress you shall have.” She put her hand to her chin and looked carefully at the boy. “Your hair is sort of...reddish. So, I don't know, green?”
“I like green. Dark, though.”
“Green it is, my boy.” Snap, snap, went her fingers. “How's that? I'm no expert.”
Adrian self-consciously smoothed the front of his new green dress. “It's beautiful!”
Teresa squinted at him. “If you say so. Want anything changing?”
The boy shook his head. “No, no, it's absolutely perfect!”
Teresa tossed her hair, and took a few steps back, admiring her handiwork. “Huh, what do you know? You don't look half bad as a girl. I cleaned your skin up whilst I was at it, let your freckles show.”
Adrian flushed and touched his cheek self-consciously.
“No, no, freckles are cute!” Teresa continued. “It's a good thing.”
“Oh,” Adrian said, relieved.
Teresa clapped her hands together. “And that's it, done, into the coach you go - your ball awaits. Go have fun now, time of your life and all that.”
Adrian smiled shyly at her, curtseyed gracefully, and went to step into the pumpkin coach.
“Oh,” Teresa started suddenly. “Shit. Wait. Yeah. Rules.”
Adrian turned back to her.
“Outta there by midnight,” the girl in red told him. “Twelfth chime of the big clock. I'm serious. There'll be this epic shit storm if you're late.”
“Twelve o'clock. All right. Thanks for everything!”
Teresa waved casually as the coach pulled away.
“Nick, don't be silly-”
“I'm not being silly!”
“Just go back out there...”
“I won't!” Nikolaus, Crown Prince of Bavaria, said sulkily to his cousin. “It's dull, this is so dull. All the flattery and the air-headedness and...”
Samil grinned and held back a small laugh. He put his hand on the prince's shoulder. “Nick, that's all part of it! The girls out there are fighting tooth and nail just to get a dance with you.”
Nick heaved a sigh beyond his years, and flopped down into an ornate armchair. “But that's just it, I don't understand.”
Samil flicked blond hair out of his eyes. “Well, you are sort of dashing, you know. Girls like that kind of thing.”
Nick waved his hand carelessly. “Girls.”
“Well. Yes, that is the obvious problem with the whole set-up...” Samil said awkwardly. “But it would be a great deal easier if you just told your father.”
The young man in the armchair sprang up. “For the last time, Sam! Can't you see how that is just...” Nick struggled to find the right word. “Preposterous.”
Samil raised an eyebrow. “Preposterous?”
“Look, I just mean it's silly.”
“About as silly as the word 'preposterous'.”
“Yes, all right!” Nick snapped. “You knew what I was getting at.”
Samil smiled pityingly. “Well, Nick...if you aren't going to tell your father, then you're going to have to marry a girl - sooner or later.” He twitched aside the curtain that separated their small anteroom from the brightly-lit ballroom. “And it may as well be one of them.” He gestured to the mass of well-dressed young women and their various attendants.
“Sam...”
“If you're going to be king, then you're expected to have a wife. Your father isn't going to just let this go.”
“But I can't,” Nick said desperately. “Don't you see how I just can't?”
Samil let the curtain drop. “So admit it. Just tell them that you can't marry a woman. It's not unheard of...”
“Not unheard of?” Nick threw his arms up in the air. “It's illegal! I'm the Crown Prince! I can't just say 'sorry girls, I'd prefer it if you had a-'”
“Right, right,” Samil stuttered, holding his hand up. “I see what you mean.”
“And besides, this is your fault anyway.”
“How? Come on, enlighten me.”
“Well maybe I'm not the only who's...” Nick trailed off, and mumbled, “dashing.”
The blond young man stared at him speechless for a few minutes. “I can see where this is going,” he said finally.
“Sam...don't, you know, forget that I even-”
“Look, I didn't make you like men,” Samil hissed. “I thought we were over this - I understand that it's difficult, and I'm sorry I don't feel that way. But you can't just bring it up like that-”
“I know. Forget it. I shouldn't have said anything.”
Samil brushed his hand through his hair, and opened the curtain up again. “Nick, you're going out there, you're going to talk to those girls, and you're going to enjoy yourself. Time for self-pity later.” He scanned the crowd with a slight frown, and then caught sight of a promising figure making their way slowly down the grand staircase. “There,” he said, triumphantly.
“What?” Nick asked in a sour tone.
Samil tried to point unobtrusively towards the figure. “On the stairs. Green dress. Reddish hair. She looks like your kind of girl.”
“Do you think?”
Samil gave him a withering look. “Would you just try?”
“But-”
“For me?”
Nick glared down his long nose for a moment. “Oh, fine,” he said irritably. “I'll not get any peace otherwise. I'll talk to our friend with the reddish hair.”
“Thank you.” Samil pushed the crown prince out into the ballroom. “And for God's sake, Nick, try to have fun.”
Mumbling darkly, the Crown Prince of Bavaria shuffled reluctantly across the dance floor in a very ungraceful and unregal way, desperate not to look dashing. He reached the bottom of the grand staircase, trying to avoid catching the eye of plenty of young women slowly swooping towards him. The girl descending the stairs was fairly tall, with short hair, endearingly freckly cheeks and a satiny green dress. All in all, Nick found himself pleasantly surprised.
Adrian trembled as he crept down the staircase in silver slippers. He was realising that he would have to keep up the act of being a girl. He sneaked a glance at his flat chest and winced.
Apart from worrying about his stupid decision to choose a dress, Adrian was rather enjoying himself. The coach ride had been very pleasant, and the royal ballroom was everything he had wished it to be. Great chandeliers hung from the ceiling, and the floor was heaving with people dancing and twirling.
As he hesitantly reached the bottom of the staircase, he noticed someone hovering nearby, and nearly choked.
A tall young man, with dark hair slightly scruffier than his station really allowed, offered Adrian his hand. He had a serious face and a long nose, and was by far the finest-dressed young man in the whole room. Adrian felt faintly sick as he realised who this stranger must be.
“Christ,” he managed to say, belatedly forgetting that he should try to speak with a higher pitch if he was to successfully pull cross-dressing off tonight.
The prince's mouth twitched the side in a smirk. “Almost,” he replied. His hand was still outstretched. Unsure what to do, Adrian stared at it as though it were an exotic snake. The man sighed. “May I request the honour of a dance?” he asked, a little mechanically.
Without looking, Adrian felt the gaze of each young woman in the vicinity swerve around to him. He took a deep breath - if he was going to do this properly, then he would have to react like any young lady of the kingdom would. Trying not to appear too smug, he delicately took the prince's hand.
“I'd be delighted,” he said, throat dry.
He accepted mostly for a bit of fun, but as Prince Nikolaus led him to the centre of the dance floor, Adrian realised with horror that he'd made a mistake. His disguise was paper-thin - maybe suitable for snooping around in the background, but not for public scrutiny. The prince need only squint a little to see it was a boy whose hand he held, and anyone would be able to see that he'd never danced a step in his life. Adrian wondered if there were laws against wearing women's clothes.
“Er,” he started, looking at the prince's blank face. “I've not...I mean. I'm not actually a very good dancer.”
Prince Nikolaus smiled briefly, but not warmly. “Nonsense. I'm sure you'll do fine,” he said, disinterestedly; he sounded as though he always spoke in bland, practised phrases. He carefully placed his free hand onto Adrian's shoulder, and saw the young boy's awkwardness. “Now, now,” he sighed, as though feeling he ought to say something. “A few wrong steps add, you know, character.”
Adrian giggled nervously, and didn't trust himself to say anything.
“I suppose that I should ask your name.”
“Oh, it's Adr-”
The orchestra burst into life, and Adrian jumped, trying to copy everyone else in the ballroom.
“I didn't catch that,” the prince said, slowly spinning Adrian around.
“Er. It's just Ade.”
“I suppose you know who I am,” the prince said awkwardly.
Adrian tilted his head, trying to concentrate. “Are you joking? The girl behind me is trying to kill me with only her eyes. I know who you are.”
Quite suddenly, the man broke into a chuckle, doubling over slightly. “You were right. You're a terrible dancer.”
Adrian flushed instantly. “I'm sorry. I-”
Nikolaus shook his head. “I'll try to teach you.”
It was only at the sound of the first chime, the clanging echo through the palace walls, that Adrian remembered the midnight rule of the girl in the tree. He suddenly stumbled, mid-step; still dancing with Prince Nikolaus, who had barely left his side.
“Christ,” he said.
Nikolaus smirked. “I keep telling you, it's just Nick.”
Adrian shook his head, ignoring the joke. “N-No, I have to leave.” The second chime rang out clearly, and he regretfully tore his hands from the prince's grip.
“Leave? Already?”
“I'm sorry, I'm sorry...” Adrian trailed off, backing away. All Nikolaus's protests were in vain, and the boy fled up the grand staircase.
“Frightening them away, are we?” Samil's sarcastic voice started behind Nikolaus. The prince ignored him, and raced to the staircase. Far too late. There was no sign of his beautiful dancing partner.
“I don't know how you did it, Sam,” he said, distantly.
“Did what?”
Nikolaus sighed dreamily. “I'm in love.”
Samil tripped over something on the staircase. “With a girl? There's hope for you yet.” He reach down to rub his sore toes, and picked up the offending item. “Who leaves a shoe on the stairs? Honestly - the folk your father invites...”
Nikolaus, who had hardly been listening, looked round at him. “A shoe?” he asked, confused.
Samil held up the slipper, and then turned it over in his hands. “Solid silver, this thing. Must have cost a fortune.”
“That - that's her slipper. That girl...Ade.”
“Whoever she is, her feet are tiny.”
Nikolaus held his hand out for the silver slipper. Samil glanced at him uneasily, and gave it to him. “You're not going to keep it, are you?”
“Why not? Maybe I can use it to find her again.”
His cousin's look was skeptical, to say the least. “You're actually serious about this. Wait until I tell your father, he'll jump over the moon. Come on, your royal Silliness, this party is far from over.” And with that, he steered the Crown Prince back down the stairs, no matter how many times Nikolaus looked wistfully over his shoulder.
By the twelfth chime of the giant clock beside the palace, Adrian had just managed to duck into an alley, out of sight. His beautiful clothes, and the one remaining silver slipper disappeared without ceremony, and he was back in his dirty, smeared rags. A pumpkin gently rolled away from where the coaches were parked, and several rodents made their escape.
Adrian stood upright, tried to dust himself off, and started the journey home.
Exhausted, the boy slumped at the foot of his mother's tree, and half-closed his eyes.
“How was it?”
He blinked tiredly, and smiled up at the girl in red - who was looking down curiously at him.
“Do you live in that tree?”
Teresa looked a little confused by the question. “No. Well, sort of. I heard you reading all those books to me. Which was sweet, by the way.” She paused, and then wrinkled her nose. “Except for the Tennyson. That was shit.”
“I like Tennyson!” the boy protested.
She waved that away. “And you are perfectly within your rights to. Personally, however, not a fan. But, come on, how was your party?”
Adrian smiled peacefully, craning his neck to look up at her. “I've fallen in love...”
“Blimey.”
“...with a boy.”
“Ah. Oh. With a boy.” Teresa paused, and then clambered out of the tree. She looked at him seriously for a moment. “I knew something like this would happen,” the girl finally groaned. She covered her face with her hands. “Love is pure and should be celebrated in all its forms, blah blah - just... you picked a tricky era to be born in...”
Adrian laughed weakly. “Well. It was the Crown Prince. So I don't think there's any danger of angry people with pitchforks turning up.”
“You fell in love with a prince?” Teresa squawked. “Oh, Adrian - you don't do things by halves, do you? The dress was such a give-away too, but...I thought you just liked wearing them, I didn't... How are we going to fix this?”
Adrian waved his hand at her. “There's no fixing. I had a really good time. I won't forget it. Thank you, Teresa. Fairy, or whatever you are.”
Teresa looked down at him sadly.
“That sounds like Heiko and Ute are back.” The dirty boy scrambled to the back door of the house,
and quickly slipped in - leaving the girl in red staring thoughtfully at the tree.
Nikolaus's father, the king, had jumped on the idea of using the silver slipper to track down the mysterious young woman. After all these years of coaxing and wheedling, the boy had finally in love (or something very much like it, which was all the king was fussed about), and there was never a better time to marry him off - quickly.
They searched through the whole city, and asked every girl in every household to put on the tiny slipper - but it was so small that none could fit their feet into it. Samil once had to stop a rather overzealous young woman, who was quite prepared to chop her toes off one by one until she could squeeze her foot into the thing.
It wasn't until they reached the outskirts of the city, one of the last houses - with a pumpkin patch in the garden, that they finally found the lucky girl. Ute Henökl gracefully slipped her tiny, pale foot into the dainty shoe, and it sat in place perfectly.
With long blonde hair, and blue eyes, she was certainly not the girl that Nikolaus had danced with weeks ago; but by that time, King Isaac didn't care. He jumped, right in Heiko's front room. The search was over, their task complete - Nikolaus would marry the girl in the morning. Heiko was predictably overjoyed, and between them they began to make arrangements - whilst their reluctant children watched helplessly. After a while, King Isaac absently ordered them to go out into garden and get to know each other better - or at least, stop staring at him so sorrowfully.
Ute sat under the tree she always saw Adrian at, and Nikolaus carefully lowered himself down beside her. They both looked extremely glum.
“It's not so bad,” Nikolaus tried. “You seem very nice.”
“Thank you.”
“I think you'll like the palace. It'll be a big wedding.”
“That's true.”
Nikolaus managed half a smile. “You'll be a princess.”
Ute concentrated on shredding a nearby blade of grass. “I mean, for goodness sake, her hair was red!” she said, suddenly. “I saw her from the other side of the ballroom, and her hair was definitely red. And short. This is ridiculous.”
Nikolaus nodded. “I should have known my father would just twist the whole thing around to get me married off as quickly as possible.” He sighed.
“And my mother's so greedy that she'd jump at the chance. She'll be crawling all over your palace before the week's out.” Ute started on another blade of grass, shredding it more violently. “Was there really a girl who tried to cut her toe off?”
Nikolaus snorted slightly. “My God, she was insane.”
Ute looked down at her own feet. “I'm not surprised it took you so long. I do have really small feet. The only other person I know with feet this tiny is my brother.”
The prince sighed. “Yes, I did notice at the time that she had very pretty, small feet.” He ran a hand through his hair, and leant back against the tree - utterly defeated. “She probably didn't even come from anywhere near here. She must have been a princess from afar, another country, across the sea perhaps. That's why she didn't tell me her real name. I knew 'Ade' wasn't a sensible girl's name.”
Ute flinched, and sat up suddenly. She stared at the prince as though he had sprouted two heads.
“What?”
“Ade,” she repeated.
“I think that's what she said. Why?”
Ute looked at her feet again. “My step-brother - he's called Adrian. My name for him is Ade.”
Nikolaus shrugged, and settled against the tree again. He closed his eyes.
“My brother,” she repeated, insistently. “The one with the tiny feet.”
One eye opened. “Wait,” he croaked.
“Red hair,” Ute said.
“Freckles?”
“Covered in them.”
The prince jumped up, and hit his head on a low-hanging branch. Beaming, he politely extended his arm to help Ute up. “Well then, my lady, kindly show me to your...” his voice trailed off. Ute looked at him curiously, and tugged on his sleeve.
“What's that face for? It's my brother, I'm telling you. He sneaks in and wears my dresses sometimes, when he thinks I don't see.”
Nikolaus pulled his arm out of Ute's grip. “And what would I tell him? 'Thanks for the dance, but my father is going to make me marry your sister'.”
“I. Well. Um.”
“I can't marry a boy.”
Ute's eyebrows came together. “Do you love him, or don't you?”
“I do love him, I love boys,” Nikolaus snapped back. “I meant that I'm supposed to be king, and I can't do that too well locked up in prison for being a-”
“Oh, please-!” a voice cut over the two of them.
Hesitantly, they both looked up.
“You whine worse than he did, my God! Must everything be so dramatic with you people?” Through the branches, they caught a flash of red, and a cheeky grin. “Nikolaus, you don't want the kingdom anyway - any fool can see that. Sam would do perfectly well. Isaac will come round to the idea.”
Ute went through a number of possible response in her head, before finally choosing: “What are you doing in my tree?”
A few twigs fell down as the figure shuffled around, and it became clear it was a girl lounging in the branches. “Actually, it's Adrian's mother's tree,” she replied infuriatingly.
“Are you a fairy?” Nikolaus asked.
The girl momentarily closed her eyes, as though silently counting to ten. “Yes,” she said levelly. “Yes, I'm a fairy.”
“So what do you propose I do, Miss Fairy? Hand the kingdom over to Samil, and then what?”
She shrugged. “I don't know, elope or something. You're young - be creative! I can't do everything for you.”
“Leave my kingdom? The palace? Everything I've ever had?”
The girl in red peered closely at him. “No. You could just marry this sweet girl here and live a lie whilst her harpy mother swoops down on you every five seconds. Clearly that's the preferred option - I don't know why I bloody bother.”
Teresa waited an agonising hour. It didn't look agonising on the outside, of course, because she had perfected nonchalant boredom to an art form. One leg hanging down carelessly, the other propped up against the trunk of the tree. Heiko's soaring voice reached her from the kitchen, and Teresa felt her eye twitch once.
There was a knocking on the trunk of the tree, and she looked down curiously. Two boys held each other's hands - one very regal, and the other covered in soot and dirt.
“Teresa?”
“Yes, Adrian, my dear.”
“Can you magic us someplace else?”
She flashed them a crooked grin. “I thought you'd never ask.”
( Story Index | Character Guide)
Story: Colours Don't Run
Universe: Cinderella (it pretends to be 18th century Bavaria, but clearly fails)
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 6355
Summary: The Colours Don't Run cast in a weird, 'queer'-ed Cinderella, somewhat half-heartedly set in Bavaria.
When Adrian's mother died, he and his father Joshua planted a beautiful tree in the garden beside her grave. In the winter that followed, Adrian sat beneath it every day to read his books, and occasionally mumble to the tree-bark as though it could hear him. Snow fell onto his knees and carpeted the garden, deeper each day, but still Adrian went out to read to the tree.
Joshua had been a loving husband, but he was also vain and silly. By the time the spring sun had melted the last of the snow, the Austrian woman and her daughter moved in.
Joshua's new wife was called Heiko, although Adrian was only allowed to address her as 'ma'am' and she was a proud woman with a wicked tongue. Her blonde and lovely daughter, however, was too air-headed to say a single unkind thing, and Adrian got along with her very well - even if she was rather silly.
Heiko saw all of this, and despaired - her graceful daughter shouldn't be playing with a useless boy who always had his nose in a book - and she was soon ordering Adrian around as a servant. His bedroom was given to Ute, his new step-sister, as a dressing room, where she could keep all the lovely gowns her parents bought for her, whilst Adrian had to sleep in the fireplace, covered in ash.
The boy didn't complain once about the arrangement, which suited Heiko just fine; and after a year had passed, the king put out the announcement that he was to hold a ball, for all the eligible young men and women in the country to attend. There were twitterings (which Adrian caught snatches of as he swept the floorboards) of it all being a clever ruse in order to find the stubborn prince of the kingdom a good wife, once and for all. Adrian thought quietly to himself that the prince was certainly still young enough to hold off on choosing a wife for a few more years, and maybe he'd be a good deal more open to the idea if everyone stopped bothering him. But then, no one asked his opinion anyway - except for Ute on occasion, before her mother scolded her and said the boy would be full of funny ideas from all those books he read. The sad truth was that Adrian barely had time to pick a good story up, these days, with all the work Heiko piled onto him.
He first heard that his step-sister, sweet and blonde Ute, was to attend when Heiko started squawking at her husband to buy the girl a new dress, more brilliant and costly than any he had purchased before. Joshua had absently answered the affirmative, eyes fixed on the evening newspaper.
“Dad,” Adrian sighed, when Heiko had retired upstairs for her before-bed cosmetic ritual. “Is it worth it?”
“Worth what?” Joshua mumbled, hidden behind stacks of carefully printed paper.
“All the nagging, and abuse. Is the sex really worth it?”
Blue eyes stared flatly at the boy. Joshua rolled the newspaper up, swiftly smacked his son on the head with it, and then unfolded it again all in one fluid motion. “Keep that tongue to yourself.”
“Yes, father.”
The next day, Adrian surprised his step-mother by begging to go with Ute to pick out her dress. Heiko was suspicious at first, that Adrian might try to sabotage the whole thing, out of petty revenge; but the boy sincerely reminded her that less time shopping meant more time to plan out her own costume, and eventually the vain woman relented.
Even though the boy was dusty, and dirty, with hair full of ash, Ute held his hand the whole way down the street to the dress-makers. She alternated between gushing about how splendid the ball would be, and lamenting that Adrian could not go with her.
“Oh, it's not fair! She is so wicked to you, Ade!”
Adrian smiled weakly, but it wasn't fooling anyone. “I think she's wicked to everyone, and they just choose not to notice...” he said quietly. Ute tilted her head to one side, and looked at him uncertainly.
“Maybe.”
The dress-maker wouldn't let Adrian into her shop because he was so filthy, but he settled for standing outside and gesturing wildly to Ute through the window as she browsed the selections of gowns, before choosing the perfect one. Adrian gave her two hearty thumbs-up, and the dress-maker scowled at him.
“You're so good with clothes, Ade,” Ute said appraisingly as they made their way back. She held his hand again, swinging it to and fro. “I'm hopeless with that sort of thing.”
Adrian flushed a little, and didn't say anything in reply.
Heiko gasped and gushed as Ute made her way down the stairs, as the coach arrived on the night of the ball.
“Oh, my dear, you look simply- Doesn't she just look beautiful?”
Joshua made all the appropriate noises of agreement that he had grown used to making, and then started shooing the two women towards the door.
When Adrian looked up from scrubbing the hearth, he had to admit that his sister did look very pretty in her dress. He'd known the colour was just right with her blonde locks and fair skin.
Whilst her parents were muttering to each other about 'well the coachman can just bloody wait for a moment, we're paying him, aren't we?', Ute drew closer to her brother. “Oh, Ade,” she said, with genuine pity in her voice. “I do wish you could come too...”
“Don't be silly, girl,” Heiko piped up almost immediately. She chuckled, as though her daughter had made a joke. “Adrian? Come to the ball? Why, look at the state of him. And what would he wear? No, no, it's just as well - it's a girly thing anyway.”
Joshua let out a long-suffering sigh. “Then why am I being dragged along?”
Heiko flashed him one glittering glare, before turning back to her daughter. “No, don't hug him, Ute - you'll get your dress dirty, for goodness sake! Can't you just once be grateful for all I do?”
Ute quietly apologised, and followed her parents out to the coach, pausing only to wave once back at her step-brother, knelt on the hearth.
As soon as he heard the horses pull away, Adrian threw the wash-cloth to the floor. “Hell with this.”
He went out through the back door into the dark garden, and sat beneath his mother's tree, feeling a prickling sensation behind his eyes. If he was honest to himself, he had desperately wanted to go to the ball, for all his casual shrugging off. He sighed, and then quietly began to sniffle.
“Oh, mum,” he wailed to the silent tree. “The lights, the people, all their fancy clothes and the whirling dancing. It doesn't matter that I'm not even a speck like them - just to be there would have been magical. It would have been like in my stories. The royal family in their glittering the costumes, golden candles in the ceiling. And who is she to deny it to me anyway? It's not fair anymore, it's just not fair! And-”
“Woah,” a voice began, making him jump, and clutch the tree in fear. “Enough with the sob story.”
Adrian looked up, curiously. The light shining through from the kitchen window lit up the top of the tree, and he could see a figure lounging between the branches, one leg swinging carelessly in the evening breeze. “Jesus,” they continued drily. “I was expecting a quick summary, not a whole damn novel.”
With that, the figure gracefully clambered down the tree, until a tall dark-haired girl stood in the light from the window. She was wearing man's clothes in a bright shade of red, and looked rather amused.
Adrian blinked. “Who are you, and what are you doing in my tree?”
The girl rolled her eyes theatrically. “You sent for me, silly, with all your wailing. Wishes are what you want, and wishes are what I deal in. At least, for tonight.”
Adrian wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “Oh. I always thought that it'd be my mother's spirit, or something. It's her tree.”
“Yeah, she couldn't make it,” the girl said casually, waving her hand. “She tried real hard, but rules are rules - caught up in something else. House calls can be a real pain. So, you got me instead.”
Adrian nodded vaguely, with not a single idea what she was talking about. “Right,” he said, as though he understood. “I see.”
“No, you don't - but it doesn't matter.” The girl put one hand on her hip, and flicked her hair out of her face. “OK, so, what's the problem here? I'll be honest, you were so busy monologue-ing that I kind of zoned out in the middle. Some party thing?”
Adrian nodded eagerly. “The king is holding a ball, and everyone's going to be there! All the girls in their pretty dresses, and the young men in their finery, dancing and playing party games. But, my step-mother hates me and favours her daughter, and she wouldn't let me go with them.”
The tall girl sat down beside him and drew her knees up towards her. “OK. So. Fuck her rules.”
Adrian's eyes widened. “I'm sorry?”
“Oh, wait, forget I said that,” the girl said hurriedly. “Wrong century. Whoops, easy mistake. I'm sorry, continue.”
“Right,” he said, looking uncertainly at the strange girl. “I couldn't go anyway, really, looking like this. And I haven't a thing to wear.”
The girl in red stood up decisively as soon as his voice trailed off. “All righty, Ade, my boy,” she began in a business-like tone. “Let's make a list of the things we need. Firstly, you need to get to this ball, which means transport, and in this time period I'm guessing that means a coach - therefore you'll also need an attendant or two, because we always like a certain pomp and circumstance, don't we?” She paused for a moment, and Adrian wondered whether he was supposed to reply. “Are footmen the expected thing these days?” the girl asked. “I'm so out of touch.”
Adrian looked at her as though she had been living under a rock. “I...yes, footmen are usually...yes.” He felt as though he was rather rapidly losing grip of the situation.
The girl was looking at him with a wry smile. “Oh, why did you lot ever grow up, and invent things like the Internet? You were so much more adorable like this,” she said fondly.
“I'm sorry?”
“Nothing.”
“Look,” Adrian managed. “Look, who are you, anyway?”
The girl paused in her planning of ball preparation, and looked at him oddly. “Uh. Well, that would take some time to explain, and much more than we have available to us now, so-”
“Can't I have your name? You seem to know mine.”
“Oh!” She looked genuinely surprised. “Did I forget that part? I tell you, this job is driving my marbles out... It's Teresa.”
“Just...Teresa?”
“Is that a problem?”
Adrian stammered. “Well, no. Are you a...a fairy?”
Teresa stared at him flatly. “No, I'm not a bloody - do I look like a... no. Not really, not even close.”
The boy's face fell, and he remembered all of Heiko's harsh words about keeping one's nose stuck in a book and getting fanciful ideas.
Teresa sighed pityingly. “I can be a fairy if you'd like,” she said in a resigned voice. “Now - where could you find me some mice?”
Adrian looked around them at the dark garden. “Are you joking?”
The girl winced. “Sure, the century thing - still getting used to it, not familiar with this oldey-worldey business. Mice equal everywhere, right you are - get to it, Adey, if you don't mind.”
Whilst Adrian had by this time concluded that the girl was clearly mad, he found himself doing as she said, scuttling under the hedges in search of mice. Teresa meanwhile, was hunting for a suitable coach, and soon found it.
“Oh, wow, a pumpkin!” she exclaimed. “Who still grows pumpkins?”
“Lots of people grow pumpkins,” Adrian replied defensively, from under a particularly stubborn shrub. “How many of these do I need?”
“Two should be enough if you're having difficulty.”
“If I'm having- have you seen how fast mice run? You do it yourself if you're so clever,” Adrian growled.
Teresa did not look suitably impressed. “My dear, I am not the one desperate to go the ball. You have to earn your happy ending around here.”
Eventually, Adrian caught two white mice, and brought them over to the girl waiting beside the pumpkin.
“Good job. Put them down now.”
“But they'll run away again...”
“They won't. And when they change, you don't want to be holding them.” And with that, the girl smiled broadly and snapped her fingers.
The pumpkin swiftly erupted into sparks, and Adrian threw his arm up to shield his face. When he lowered it again, hesitantly, a beautiful coach stood before him, in the mud of the vegetable garden - and beside it a footman and driver, where the two mice had been scrabbling in the dirt.
Adrian turned with wonder to the girl. “What are you?”
“A fairy,” she replied glibly. “Now tell me what's missing from this...oh, yes, horses. Internal combustion engine hasn't been invented yet.” She snapped her fingers again, and two horses calmly made their way out of the garden shed.
“Wait, how did-”
“Rats.”
“Oh.” Adrian was silent for a few moments. “Could you have done that with the mice?” he asked, suspiciously.
“Yes.” The girl beamed at him. “I just like to watch you squirm. Now, what do you think?” She swept her arm across the shining black coach.
“It, it's beautiful!” Adrian gasped. “Except, well...”
Teresa tapped one foot on the earth. “Except?”
“The flames...are they necessary?” he said awkwardly, pointing to the design emblazoned on the glossy side of the coach.
“Those kind of vinyls are all the rage!” Teresa protested.
“I don't think so,” Adrian said, firmly.
The girl sighed, and removed them with a thought. “You are the wishee.”
“And more...white.”
“Not British Racing Green?” she wheedled.
“White, please.”
“Dull. Predictable. Safe.” She flicked her wrist, and the coach was a startling white. “Everybody wants traditional. One day I'll be posted to someone with an imagination.”
Adrian ignored her last comments, and stared at his coach. “Thank you!”
“Woah, hang fire son, we're not done yet. Can't go like that. Need some, whatyoucallit. Finery. What are we thinking, a nice suit, sort of jacket-y thing? I'm not great on the styles of your decade, you'll need to give me a hint or two.”
Teresa suddenly stopped, looking awkwardly at the boy. Adrian had flushed a deep scarlet, with his eyes fixed to the muddy ground, and his hand clutched in front of him.
“Adrian? Are you all right?”
“Yes, it's just. About the clothes.”
“What about them?”
“What I'd like is...what I'd like...” he trailed off, his voice failing him.
Teresa put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Ade, you can have whatever you want. That's what makes it a wish, you know?”
“Mmm. It's...like the dresses my sister has. In her room. Like those.”
Teresa looked at him for a moment, waiting for him to go on, until it dawned on her. “Oh. Oh, I see. You want a dre- Christ, it takes all sorts, doesn't it?” This last comment was directed to the air around her instead of Adrian. “Goodness sake, don't pull that face.”
Adrian looked up at her hopefully through his shame.
“You're just a bit more...modern than current sensibilities. That's all.”
“You wear men's clothes.”
“No, no, you're quite right. If it's a dress you want, Adrian, then it's a dress you shall have.” She put her hand to her chin and looked carefully at the boy. “Your hair is sort of...reddish. So, I don't know, green?”
“I like green. Dark, though.”
“Green it is, my boy.” Snap, snap, went her fingers. “How's that? I'm no expert.”
Adrian self-consciously smoothed the front of his new green dress. “It's beautiful!”
Teresa squinted at him. “If you say so. Want anything changing?”
The boy shook his head. “No, no, it's absolutely perfect!”
Teresa tossed her hair, and took a few steps back, admiring her handiwork. “Huh, what do you know? You don't look half bad as a girl. I cleaned your skin up whilst I was at it, let your freckles show.”
Adrian flushed and touched his cheek self-consciously.
“No, no, freckles are cute!” Teresa continued. “It's a good thing.”
“Oh,” Adrian said, relieved.
Teresa clapped her hands together. “And that's it, done, into the coach you go - your ball awaits. Go have fun now, time of your life and all that.”
Adrian smiled shyly at her, curtseyed gracefully, and went to step into the pumpkin coach.
“Oh,” Teresa started suddenly. “Shit. Wait. Yeah. Rules.”
Adrian turned back to her.
“Outta there by midnight,” the girl in red told him. “Twelfth chime of the big clock. I'm serious. There'll be this epic shit storm if you're late.”
“Twelve o'clock. All right. Thanks for everything!”
Teresa waved casually as the coach pulled away.
“Nick, don't be silly-”
“I'm not being silly!”
“Just go back out there...”
“I won't!” Nikolaus, Crown Prince of Bavaria, said sulkily to his cousin. “It's dull, this is so dull. All the flattery and the air-headedness and...”
Samil grinned and held back a small laugh. He put his hand on the prince's shoulder. “Nick, that's all part of it! The girls out there are fighting tooth and nail just to get a dance with you.”
Nick heaved a sigh beyond his years, and flopped down into an ornate armchair. “But that's just it, I don't understand.”
Samil flicked blond hair out of his eyes. “Well, you are sort of dashing, you know. Girls like that kind of thing.”
Nick waved his hand carelessly. “Girls.”
“Well. Yes, that is the obvious problem with the whole set-up...” Samil said awkwardly. “But it would be a great deal easier if you just told your father.”
The young man in the armchair sprang up. “For the last time, Sam! Can't you see how that is just...” Nick struggled to find the right word. “Preposterous.”
Samil raised an eyebrow. “Preposterous?”
“Look, I just mean it's silly.”
“About as silly as the word 'preposterous'.”
“Yes, all right!” Nick snapped. “You knew what I was getting at.”
Samil smiled pityingly. “Well, Nick...if you aren't going to tell your father, then you're going to have to marry a girl - sooner or later.” He twitched aside the curtain that separated their small anteroom from the brightly-lit ballroom. “And it may as well be one of them.” He gestured to the mass of well-dressed young women and their various attendants.
“Sam...”
“If you're going to be king, then you're expected to have a wife. Your father isn't going to just let this go.”
“But I can't,” Nick said desperately. “Don't you see how I just can't?”
Samil let the curtain drop. “So admit it. Just tell them that you can't marry a woman. It's not unheard of...”
“Not unheard of?” Nick threw his arms up in the air. “It's illegal! I'm the Crown Prince! I can't just say 'sorry girls, I'd prefer it if you had a-'”
“Right, right,” Samil stuttered, holding his hand up. “I see what you mean.”
“And besides, this is your fault anyway.”
“How? Come on, enlighten me.”
“Well maybe I'm not the only who's...” Nick trailed off, and mumbled, “dashing.”
The blond young man stared at him speechless for a few minutes. “I can see where this is going,” he said finally.
“Sam...don't, you know, forget that I even-”
“Look, I didn't make you like men,” Samil hissed. “I thought we were over this - I understand that it's difficult, and I'm sorry I don't feel that way. But you can't just bring it up like that-”
“I know. Forget it. I shouldn't have said anything.”
Samil brushed his hand through his hair, and opened the curtain up again. “Nick, you're going out there, you're going to talk to those girls, and you're going to enjoy yourself. Time for self-pity later.” He scanned the crowd with a slight frown, and then caught sight of a promising figure making their way slowly down the grand staircase. “There,” he said, triumphantly.
“What?” Nick asked in a sour tone.
Samil tried to point unobtrusively towards the figure. “On the stairs. Green dress. Reddish hair. She looks like your kind of girl.”
“Do you think?”
Samil gave him a withering look. “Would you just try?”
“But-”
“For me?”
Nick glared down his long nose for a moment. “Oh, fine,” he said irritably. “I'll not get any peace otherwise. I'll talk to our friend with the reddish hair.”
“Thank you.” Samil pushed the crown prince out into the ballroom. “And for God's sake, Nick, try to have fun.”
Mumbling darkly, the Crown Prince of Bavaria shuffled reluctantly across the dance floor in a very ungraceful and unregal way, desperate not to look dashing. He reached the bottom of the grand staircase, trying to avoid catching the eye of plenty of young women slowly swooping towards him. The girl descending the stairs was fairly tall, with short hair, endearingly freckly cheeks and a satiny green dress. All in all, Nick found himself pleasantly surprised.
Adrian trembled as he crept down the staircase in silver slippers. He was realising that he would have to keep up the act of being a girl. He sneaked a glance at his flat chest and winced.
Apart from worrying about his stupid decision to choose a dress, Adrian was rather enjoying himself. The coach ride had been very pleasant, and the royal ballroom was everything he had wished it to be. Great chandeliers hung from the ceiling, and the floor was heaving with people dancing and twirling.
As he hesitantly reached the bottom of the staircase, he noticed someone hovering nearby, and nearly choked.
A tall young man, with dark hair slightly scruffier than his station really allowed, offered Adrian his hand. He had a serious face and a long nose, and was by far the finest-dressed young man in the whole room. Adrian felt faintly sick as he realised who this stranger must be.
“Christ,” he managed to say, belatedly forgetting that he should try to speak with a higher pitch if he was to successfully pull cross-dressing off tonight.
The prince's mouth twitched the side in a smirk. “Almost,” he replied. His hand was still outstretched. Unsure what to do, Adrian stared at it as though it were an exotic snake. The man sighed. “May I request the honour of a dance?” he asked, a little mechanically.
Without looking, Adrian felt the gaze of each young woman in the vicinity swerve around to him. He took a deep breath - if he was going to do this properly, then he would have to react like any young lady of the kingdom would. Trying not to appear too smug, he delicately took the prince's hand.
“I'd be delighted,” he said, throat dry.
He accepted mostly for a bit of fun, but as Prince Nikolaus led him to the centre of the dance floor, Adrian realised with horror that he'd made a mistake. His disguise was paper-thin - maybe suitable for snooping around in the background, but not for public scrutiny. The prince need only squint a little to see it was a boy whose hand he held, and anyone would be able to see that he'd never danced a step in his life. Adrian wondered if there were laws against wearing women's clothes.
“Er,” he started, looking at the prince's blank face. “I've not...I mean. I'm not actually a very good dancer.”
Prince Nikolaus smiled briefly, but not warmly. “Nonsense. I'm sure you'll do fine,” he said, disinterestedly; he sounded as though he always spoke in bland, practised phrases. He carefully placed his free hand onto Adrian's shoulder, and saw the young boy's awkwardness. “Now, now,” he sighed, as though feeling he ought to say something. “A few wrong steps add, you know, character.”
Adrian giggled nervously, and didn't trust himself to say anything.
“I suppose that I should ask your name.”
“Oh, it's Adr-”
The orchestra burst into life, and Adrian jumped, trying to copy everyone else in the ballroom.
“I didn't catch that,” the prince said, slowly spinning Adrian around.
“Er. It's just Ade.”
“I suppose you know who I am,” the prince said awkwardly.
Adrian tilted his head, trying to concentrate. “Are you joking? The girl behind me is trying to kill me with only her eyes. I know who you are.”
Quite suddenly, the man broke into a chuckle, doubling over slightly. “You were right. You're a terrible dancer.”
Adrian flushed instantly. “I'm sorry. I-”
Nikolaus shook his head. “I'll try to teach you.”
It was only at the sound of the first chime, the clanging echo through the palace walls, that Adrian remembered the midnight rule of the girl in the tree. He suddenly stumbled, mid-step; still dancing with Prince Nikolaus, who had barely left his side.
“Christ,” he said.
Nikolaus smirked. “I keep telling you, it's just Nick.”
Adrian shook his head, ignoring the joke. “N-No, I have to leave.” The second chime rang out clearly, and he regretfully tore his hands from the prince's grip.
“Leave? Already?”
“I'm sorry, I'm sorry...” Adrian trailed off, backing away. All Nikolaus's protests were in vain, and the boy fled up the grand staircase.
“Frightening them away, are we?” Samil's sarcastic voice started behind Nikolaus. The prince ignored him, and raced to the staircase. Far too late. There was no sign of his beautiful dancing partner.
“I don't know how you did it, Sam,” he said, distantly.
“Did what?”
Nikolaus sighed dreamily. “I'm in love.”
Samil tripped over something on the staircase. “With a girl? There's hope for you yet.” He reach down to rub his sore toes, and picked up the offending item. “Who leaves a shoe on the stairs? Honestly - the folk your father invites...”
Nikolaus, who had hardly been listening, looked round at him. “A shoe?” he asked, confused.
Samil held up the slipper, and then turned it over in his hands. “Solid silver, this thing. Must have cost a fortune.”
“That - that's her slipper. That girl...Ade.”
“Whoever she is, her feet are tiny.”
Nikolaus held his hand out for the silver slipper. Samil glanced at him uneasily, and gave it to him. “You're not going to keep it, are you?”
“Why not? Maybe I can use it to find her again.”
His cousin's look was skeptical, to say the least. “You're actually serious about this. Wait until I tell your father, he'll jump over the moon. Come on, your royal Silliness, this party is far from over.” And with that, he steered the Crown Prince back down the stairs, no matter how many times Nikolaus looked wistfully over his shoulder.
By the twelfth chime of the giant clock beside the palace, Adrian had just managed to duck into an alley, out of sight. His beautiful clothes, and the one remaining silver slipper disappeared without ceremony, and he was back in his dirty, smeared rags. A pumpkin gently rolled away from where the coaches were parked, and several rodents made their escape.
Adrian stood upright, tried to dust himself off, and started the journey home.
Exhausted, the boy slumped at the foot of his mother's tree, and half-closed his eyes.
“How was it?”
He blinked tiredly, and smiled up at the girl in red - who was looking down curiously at him.
“Do you live in that tree?”
Teresa looked a little confused by the question. “No. Well, sort of. I heard you reading all those books to me. Which was sweet, by the way.” She paused, and then wrinkled her nose. “Except for the Tennyson. That was shit.”
“I like Tennyson!” the boy protested.
She waved that away. “And you are perfectly within your rights to. Personally, however, not a fan. But, come on, how was your party?”
Adrian smiled peacefully, craning his neck to look up at her. “I've fallen in love...”
“Blimey.”
“...with a boy.”
“Ah. Oh. With a boy.” Teresa paused, and then clambered out of the tree. She looked at him seriously for a moment. “I knew something like this would happen,” the girl finally groaned. She covered her face with her hands. “Love is pure and should be celebrated in all its forms, blah blah - just... you picked a tricky era to be born in...”
Adrian laughed weakly. “Well. It was the Crown Prince. So I don't think there's any danger of angry people with pitchforks turning up.”
“You fell in love with a prince?” Teresa squawked. “Oh, Adrian - you don't do things by halves, do you? The dress was such a give-away too, but...I thought you just liked wearing them, I didn't... How are we going to fix this?”
Adrian waved his hand at her. “There's no fixing. I had a really good time. I won't forget it. Thank you, Teresa. Fairy, or whatever you are.”
Teresa looked down at him sadly.
“That sounds like Heiko and Ute are back.” The dirty boy scrambled to the back door of the house,
and quickly slipped in - leaving the girl in red staring thoughtfully at the tree.
Nikolaus's father, the king, had jumped on the idea of using the silver slipper to track down the mysterious young woman. After all these years of coaxing and wheedling, the boy had finally in love (or something very much like it, which was all the king was fussed about), and there was never a better time to marry him off - quickly.
They searched through the whole city, and asked every girl in every household to put on the tiny slipper - but it was so small that none could fit their feet into it. Samil once had to stop a rather overzealous young woman, who was quite prepared to chop her toes off one by one until she could squeeze her foot into the thing.
It wasn't until they reached the outskirts of the city, one of the last houses - with a pumpkin patch in the garden, that they finally found the lucky girl. Ute Henökl gracefully slipped her tiny, pale foot into the dainty shoe, and it sat in place perfectly.
With long blonde hair, and blue eyes, she was certainly not the girl that Nikolaus had danced with weeks ago; but by that time, King Isaac didn't care. He jumped, right in Heiko's front room. The search was over, their task complete - Nikolaus would marry the girl in the morning. Heiko was predictably overjoyed, and between them they began to make arrangements - whilst their reluctant children watched helplessly. After a while, King Isaac absently ordered them to go out into garden and get to know each other better - or at least, stop staring at him so sorrowfully.
Ute sat under the tree she always saw Adrian at, and Nikolaus carefully lowered himself down beside her. They both looked extremely glum.
“It's not so bad,” Nikolaus tried. “You seem very nice.”
“Thank you.”
“I think you'll like the palace. It'll be a big wedding.”
“That's true.”
Nikolaus managed half a smile. “You'll be a princess.”
Ute concentrated on shredding a nearby blade of grass. “I mean, for goodness sake, her hair was red!” she said, suddenly. “I saw her from the other side of the ballroom, and her hair was definitely red. And short. This is ridiculous.”
Nikolaus nodded. “I should have known my father would just twist the whole thing around to get me married off as quickly as possible.” He sighed.
“And my mother's so greedy that she'd jump at the chance. She'll be crawling all over your palace before the week's out.” Ute started on another blade of grass, shredding it more violently. “Was there really a girl who tried to cut her toe off?”
Nikolaus snorted slightly. “My God, she was insane.”
Ute looked down at her own feet. “I'm not surprised it took you so long. I do have really small feet. The only other person I know with feet this tiny is my brother.”
The prince sighed. “Yes, I did notice at the time that she had very pretty, small feet.” He ran a hand through his hair, and leant back against the tree - utterly defeated. “She probably didn't even come from anywhere near here. She must have been a princess from afar, another country, across the sea perhaps. That's why she didn't tell me her real name. I knew 'Ade' wasn't a sensible girl's name.”
Ute flinched, and sat up suddenly. She stared at the prince as though he had sprouted two heads.
“What?”
“Ade,” she repeated.
“I think that's what she said. Why?”
Ute looked at her feet again. “My step-brother - he's called Adrian. My name for him is Ade.”
Nikolaus shrugged, and settled against the tree again. He closed his eyes.
“My brother,” she repeated, insistently. “The one with the tiny feet.”
One eye opened. “Wait,” he croaked.
“Red hair,” Ute said.
“Freckles?”
“Covered in them.”
The prince jumped up, and hit his head on a low-hanging branch. Beaming, he politely extended his arm to help Ute up. “Well then, my lady, kindly show me to your...” his voice trailed off. Ute looked at him curiously, and tugged on his sleeve.
“What's that face for? It's my brother, I'm telling you. He sneaks in and wears my dresses sometimes, when he thinks I don't see.”
Nikolaus pulled his arm out of Ute's grip. “And what would I tell him? 'Thanks for the dance, but my father is going to make me marry your sister'.”
“I. Well. Um.”
“I can't marry a boy.”
Ute's eyebrows came together. “Do you love him, or don't you?”
“I do love him, I love boys,” Nikolaus snapped back. “I meant that I'm supposed to be king, and I can't do that too well locked up in prison for being a-”
“Oh, please-!” a voice cut over the two of them.
Hesitantly, they both looked up.
“You whine worse than he did, my God! Must everything be so dramatic with you people?” Through the branches, they caught a flash of red, and a cheeky grin. “Nikolaus, you don't want the kingdom anyway - any fool can see that. Sam would do perfectly well. Isaac will come round to the idea.”
Ute went through a number of possible response in her head, before finally choosing: “What are you doing in my tree?”
A few twigs fell down as the figure shuffled around, and it became clear it was a girl lounging in the branches. “Actually, it's Adrian's mother's tree,” she replied infuriatingly.
“Are you a fairy?” Nikolaus asked.
The girl momentarily closed her eyes, as though silently counting to ten. “Yes,” she said levelly. “Yes, I'm a fairy.”
“So what do you propose I do, Miss Fairy? Hand the kingdom over to Samil, and then what?”
She shrugged. “I don't know, elope or something. You're young - be creative! I can't do everything for you.”
“Leave my kingdom? The palace? Everything I've ever had?”
The girl in red peered closely at him. “No. You could just marry this sweet girl here and live a lie whilst her harpy mother swoops down on you every five seconds. Clearly that's the preferred option - I don't know why I bloody bother.”
Teresa waited an agonising hour. It didn't look agonising on the outside, of course, because she had perfected nonchalant boredom to an art form. One leg hanging down carelessly, the other propped up against the trunk of the tree. Heiko's soaring voice reached her from the kitchen, and Teresa felt her eye twitch once.
There was a knocking on the trunk of the tree, and she looked down curiously. Two boys held each other's hands - one very regal, and the other covered in soot and dirt.
“Teresa?”
“Yes, Adrian, my dear.”
“Can you magic us someplace else?”
She flashed them a crooked grin. “I thought you'd never ask.”
( Story Index | Character Guide)