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merryfortune · 8 months

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Bippity Boppity Boo

Written for Year of the OTP 2023 - August

Title: Bippity Boppity Boo

Ship: Respectfulshipping | Ryoken/Spectre

Fandom: Yu-Gi-Oh! Vrains

Rating: T

Word Count: 10,010

Tags: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Inspired by Cinderella, Fluff

Once upon a time, there was a boy who had been abandoned by his family.

He was placed under a tree and then later placed into an orphanage upon discovery. He would grow to yearn for this tree as the kindness it showed, protecting him from the greater wilderness, was far much more consideration he was shown compared to what was given to him at the orphanage.

Where other children came and went, he was left behind. He grew older, grew embittered, and so, he came to be known by a monniker: Spectre. He was the shade in the corner. All but a ghost. Unwanted, unimpressive, and usually useless, too.

He was given task after task when it became apparent to the matrons that this child was not going to be adopted any time soon, and that he would age out of the system. However, with no capital behind him or prospect ahead of him, and not wanting to stray too far from his one special place, Spectre remained.

The matrons put him to work as an apprentice. Allegedly, anyway. He was given all the menial chores around the house and playground. So, he was more like a cleaner, or worse. Wash this, hang out that, scrub this, cook that. His hours were eaten up by hard work that rubbed him to the bone, it was perpetually neverending, especially under the matrons’ wicked eye.

He never even got to sleep a wink elsewhere or a moment of repose. Now a young man, Spectre’s previous quarters in the children’s dormitory was no longer suitable so they had him sleep in the barn with the other, actual workhorses, and cows.

Spectre tried not to mind. He preferred the straw and hay, he never got a moment of quiet beforehand with his previous roommates, either. Honestly, the animals with their lowing were far more pleasant companions than children who had been his prior bullies. That made the crick in his neck worth it, as if barely.

But there was something that he looked forward to, being able to visit his favourite place up in the woods, his Mother Tree, if he could be so fanciful in his loneliness and aching. That tree was beautiful. Enormous. She had a kind face in the knots and whorls up high, her foliage was verdant and the fragrance of the meadow was calming.

Being with her was truly Spectre’s favourite place.

He was only able to go occasionally on the rare day off - once every two months, maybe, it wasn’t a given. But the reprieve meant the world to him, walking into the forest full of pleasant birdsong, to have his own company and spend the day at rest. Sometimes he brought a picnic along it. It truly meant the world for Spectre and made his thankless, tireless work worth it.

He saw no point in leaving the orphanage if the wider world didn’t seem to want him. He had poked around here and there for other jobs. Employment with the bank or the baker, smithing and shoemaking, but Spectre was just one urchin in the castletown alone. It was a huge, bustling metropolis so there was much competition from near and far, travellers and the homegrown.

So staying at the orphanage it was. For better or for worse, there was always work of some description there. Clothes that needed to be washed, floors that needed to be scrubbed, food that needed to be cooked. And thus, never thinking his circumstances would change, Spectre worked as he could at the orphanage. But that is exactly what would happen when a peculiar, ivory-coloured letter with a burgundy stamp in the shape of a segmented triangle would arrive with the rest of the orphanage’s mail.

Now, this was a castletown, after all and where there were castles, there was royalty and where there was royalty, there was a prince in need of a good spouse.

Needless to say, there was a frenzy afoot…

Spectre wasn’t caught up on the gossip from around the orphanage, let alone the entire city, but the letter which came in the mail explained everything that he needed to know. Here ye, here ye, come one, come all: every youth and lady in the kingdom was eligible, noble birth not needed but preferred, all are eligible for Prince Ryoken’s hand in marriage. There was a ball to be held within the fortnight, on the night of the full moon.

Most peculiarly about the letter was even addressed to Spectre. Or at least the name that he didn’t care for. He was Spectre nowadays but the royal register and census didn’t know or need his nickname. But it did make sense that it would be for him and him alone. He was the only live-in at the orphanage of an eligible age as even the youngest matron was a woman twice his age.

Out of curiosity, Spectre opened the letter and read and something quite uncharacteristic happened. He felt… excited.

Spectre had parties. He hated loud noises and he’d never been any good at dancing, either, but even he had to admit. This was a once in a lifetime opportunity. He had no interest in meeting the prince, let alone trying to seduce him, but the opportunity to at least people watch in such a magnificent setting, Spectre was intrigued.

“Madam, may I have the day and night of the party off?” Spectre asked the principal matron when he saw her next.

She was a severe woman, nose always in the air, “What party?”

Spectre provided the letter to her and she read it over. Her eyes skimmed across and her expression was difficult to describe. Incredulous, perhaps? She was a hard-faced woman at the best of times.

“You had a day off recently, did you not?” she asked.

“Last week, yes.” Spectre said and he had a brief yet fond recollection of an afternoon well spent reading in the shade of his favourite tree.

“Then you are not due for another day off any time soon then,” she said, “besides, we are expecting a caravan the day before which will bring new blood here. There will be too much going on to be a worker down.”

“Ah. I see.” Spectre replied. He tried to conceal the disappointment in his voice but the watchful look of the matron, he knew straight away he had betrayed himself.

She sighed petulantly, “I suppose, if the drop-off of new charges is smaller than expected and all work is completed timely, there might be a window of opportunity but do not let something so stupid distract you from the good work we do here.”

“Of course.” Spectre replied and he didn’t even try this time to disguise the hope in his voice.

So, incentivised by an unusual night out, Spectre did his best to stay on top of all the chores and jobs he had to do around the orphanage. All of which seemed to suspiciously multiply. In the even rarer than usual downtime Spectre had between doing all his work for the orphanage, he tried to prepare in advance something nice to wear.

Being the orphanage’s resident handyman, of course he had experience in being a tailor, too. Though, usually he was only doing patch jobs here and there as it was more cost effective to repair old hand me downs than replace them. Creating something to wear from scratch was much more difficult, especially on such short notice, but Spectre persevered.

What resulted from his work on his sparse off hours here and there were repairs on his good, white trousers and a new, navy blue blazer to match. It wasn’t much but Spectre figured that it was probably good enough for a squire. Again, it's not like anyone was going to look twice at him anyway. He was just there for the canapes and people watching.

But just as the letter came by fate in the work of human hands, so did the destruction of Spectre’s good clothes for his planned night out.

He worked hard. That is what the principal matron said he had to do if he wanted to earn some time off. He did all his chores, all his jobs, all his work. He chopped firewood to both keep and sell, he washed dishes and he weeded the garden. He cleaned muck out of the stables as well as from the long-drop. He went to markets to buy provisions for the upcoming days and he helped with admin as they welcomed the newest orphans into their ranks.

Some were the same as him. Abandoned. Others were waiting to reunite with their long-lost family. They were just whoever was willing to be collected up by missionaries and merchants alike to be dumped in a group home. The number of mouths to feed and children to clothe and beds to make doubled all but instantly with this arrival. The matron had not been lying when she said it would be a huge job but Spectre was up for the task.

He got everything and everyone sorted. He took names, faces, luggage, and showed them to their rooms. The other matrons gave them all the rules and regulations mixed with a warm welcome whilst he swept afterwards and did the other tidying up.

It truly never ended. Every step any given child took, more mud was tracked through the building. Spectre was cleaning and cleaning again but it all led him back to the stables. Mud outside was fine but there was just something… amiss. An organisation to the chaos, as though it were orchestrated…

Sure enough, this strange inkling at the bottom of Spectre’s chest was confirmed when he found that his good trousers were no longer white but rather brown and his good blazer was no longer in one piece.

The horse had gotten into it, tried to eat it and when it discovered that the jacket was inedible, it was trampled. Spectre picked up the pieces and he was… He was hollow. He knew it was a bad idea to look forward to even the remote possibility of doing something interesting with himself, bigger than the orphanage which kept him more like a prisoner than a charge.

But how? Why?

He had lived in the stables without issue for years now at this point. He didn’t want to think the worst of any of the children whose work he served but the alternative was worse. Did the principal matron put one of them up to it or was it a genuine accident that his one set of truly good clothes got ruined on the night of the ball.

With what was left of his jacket, he steeled himself. He may as well ask, so Spectre found the principal matron in the kitchen, fixing herself a cup of tea (for once, instead of asking him to do it for her). Her eyes were all-knowing from the minute he stepped through the door. There was no point.

“Good, you can clean up after me since it seems your plans for the night are ruined.” she said.

“Yes. I suppose so.” Spectre timidly replied.

He was incensed but he could not show it. He simply did as he was told, disappointedly. There was no use keeping fabric which couldn’t even be used as cleaning rags so he discarded what was left of his jacket and cleaned the kettle as the principal matron drank her tea.

Spectre knew he had been a difficult child to keep. For the longest time, he was an adventurer, an eloper, always running off. Picked on others just as much he had been picked on. All that sort of thing. But was that enough for this petty retribution? He didn’t know, he couldn’t say.

Later, as night began to draw, Spectre slipped away the first chance he got. He wanted some time away from the orphanage and with the ball out of the question, there was only one place to go to enjoy some reprieve from others.

Technically,he did still have the night off. The matron be damned. He had done his work, he deserved rest. There was more to come in the morning but until then, the night was young and the walk was not that far. Not really. If he couldn’t go to the ball, he could still go into the one retreat that he still had.

Spectre made his way up through the woods, into the thick of the forest, and all whilst he was nimble-footed. He had made the journey hundreds of times, he knew these trees and the path into his favourite copse like the back of his hand. He made his way to his Mother Tree’s meadow so high on the hillside, not quite mountains but close.

He collapsed in her inner sanctum. It was a twinkling, calm night. He could all but imagine the silver-toned music of the ball as he soaked in the silence of the forest. Even the birds had gone to roost early, it felt, as he watched fireflies drift and float lazily. The air was still, not even a breeze but the temperature was pleasant.

What a wonderful night for the prince’s occasion, Spectre could have laughed. Instead all he could muster was a breath that turned into a rock hard lump in his chest. He was exhausted. He had been worked to the bone all day, the day before, all last week and then some. He was tired as he curled up against the trunk of his Mother Tree.

A single, disappointed tear streaked down the side of Spectre’s cheek. He wasn’t crying, it just occurred without reason but his soul was heavy nonetheless. He was utterly heartbroken by the turn of events, Spectre languished against his favourite tree, head in her roots as though they were fingers to card through his hair.

What good was he anyway? He was forever the shade in the corner, he likely wouldn’t enjoy himself anyway. He knew that and yet. The fact he had been invited. Sure, everyone was but it was still the very first time anyone ever had made some vain attempt to reach out for him. Sure, he was just another name on the list but still. Just that little meant a lot.

Anything would have meant a lot.

Like just a whisper, perhaps. A hello, a greeting, a salutation, just like… this one.

“Hiya papaya, Spectre-Wecter!”

“Who goes there?” Spectre yelped, alarmed.

He ripped himself off the ground. Dirt and shreds of grass fell off him as he frantically looked around. Spectre scanned the oddly bright darkness for nothing. He couldn’t see a person, even though it was such a lovely and clear night wherein he could make out every leaf in the far distance’s trees but not anything closer, let alone humanlike to make the distinct noise of a gentle conversation.

Laughter followed, “I’m right here, silly.”

Spectre turned his head and from around the bulbous curve of the tree’s middle, a strange imp curled around, also. Hiding and cheeky, she had fluffy blonde hair and green skin, strange and insect-like eyes of red.

“Who are you?” he asked, on his hackles as he stared into the mischievous face of a young woman. “How do you know my name?”

“Think of me as your… magic fairy god-sister.” she said. She bounced along from behind the tree, her rose petal tutu flounced bombastically as she did so. She then took a bow, “My name is Healer and I am here to help.”

Spectre’s brows quirked, “Help?” He got up cautiously and he realised he was far taller than the elfin thing in front of him.

“Yup, help.” Healer confirmed, she nodded her head as she drew back up with a grin plastered across her face, reaching from pointed ear to pointed ear. “You wanna go to the ball, don’t you?”

“Well, yes but… I don’t have anything to wear. Why bother? I was only invited as a courtesy.” Spectre replied.

“Even so? You were invited and you wanted to go. Have a night out, dance it all away, it’ll be great fun and who knows,” Healer clasped her hands together for dramatic effect as her expression turned dreamy, “you might even meet your one true love.”

Spectre snorted.

“Hey! You might!” Healer snapped. “You're not making this easy for me. You should be all like, “waah, waah, I wanna go to the ball, take me to the ball” and well? Do you want to go to the ball or not?”

“Fine. Yes. I want to go to the ball.” Spectre said. “But how am I going to get there? What will I wear?”

“And that is where I fit in.” Healer trumpeted proudly. “All you need is three magic words.” She looked around. “Ah! Perfect! I’ve already found your carriage. Watch this.”

Healer continued to galumph around - and beckoned Spectre to follow her. Which he did, even if it was with extreme suspicion. She bounced over to a tree which had white mushrooms growing at the base of it on the edge of the meadow.

“Bippity. Boppity… Boo!” Healer said and she waggled her fingers at these mushrooms and the most peculiar thing happened.

They grew. They changed. They became a carriage, an actual, functional carriage. The cap expanded and flopped about to become the top cover of the carriage. The stem underneath became the undercarriage, roots curled into wheels. It was strange, it was bizarre but it was beautiful. Spectre had never seen a carriage like it, it was good enough for royalty, he would think.

Healer proudly grinned by his side and glanced at him, “Like what you see?” she asked. “Good, I hope so. But you need something to pull a carriage,like a horse!”

She whipped around, looked left and looked right and then had her little eureka moment. Healer skipped over and then pounced on a mouse. She picked one up by its tail and the squeaking it made was horrendous. She tossed it up and as it flew through the air, tumbling into a somersault, its body morphed and changed also.

The mouse was white and so was the horse it became. Paws became hoofs and a thin tail turned to hair. The mouse’s squeaking became a horse’s neighing as Healer wagged her fingers. Girdle and tack manifested out of thin air and Healer had it all arranged so this horse which was once a mouse could pull the carriage which was once a mushroom.

Spectre could hardly believe his eyes. He sputtered and stammered as he watched these impossible, fanciful, magical things happen right in front of him and all for him.

“We have a horse, we have a carriage but what’s the word I’m thinking of…?” Healer mumbled, more to herself than to Spectre as she rubbed her chin thoughtfully. “Oh, yes! Of course! Coach! You need a coachman as well. Someone to guide the horse to the ball. We can’t expect a distinguished VIP to do something like that.”

V-I-what? Healer was basically speaking in tongues to Spectre. He was too flabbergasted as he watched Healer fossick out a coachman for him next. She perused the tree branches and found a nest with just one bird in it. She gave it a shake.

“Sorry mister but I need to borrow your services.” she whispered to the bird, a mourning dove.

The dove began to flap and fluster, Healer had to put the nest down and they wanted as the bird turned into a man dressed, unsurprisingly, in gorgeous feathers. She hustled him up and loaded him onto the front of the carriage. He squawked and carried on but once he was sitting at the helm, he calmed down.

Healer turned around and then eyed up Spectre, “Now for you. You can’t go to the ball and meet your one true love looking like that, now can you?”

“I - I suppose not.” Spectre said, flustered.

He wasn’t sure if he should trust the fashion sense of someone wearing a giant flower. Or had just dressed a bird in a feathered suit but it appeared Spectre had no say in the matter beyond giving his consent as Healer was lost in the enthusiasm of getting her god-brother to the ball.

“Here goes nothing,” Healer said, “bippity-boppity-boo!”

Healer gave it all in winding up and delivering energetic jazz hands towards Spectre. A sudden wind, speckled with stardust, blew a gale and wrapped itself around Spectre like celestial raiments. Around and around him, swirling and twirling, transforming his ordinary workwear into a gorgeous suit.

Spectre’s expression turned elated as he wondered at the marvel of Healer’s magic. He wore a suit of the purest white with yellow-gold decorations. The suit felt as though it were made of the finest, most petal soft silk but it was very strange. One step forward and Spectre noted that his shoes were odd to say the least.

He looked down, they were made of glass. They were shaped like a good, leather shoe ought to be and yet, they shone and shimmered in the moonlight, the shape of his foot barely obscured by the glass.

“What on Earth…?” Spectre murmured.

Healer laughed apologetically, “sorry. My magic isn’t one-hundred per-cent one-hundred per-cent of the time. Speaking of which!” Her eyes lit up. “You better hurry, you have a curfew. The magic will wear off at midnight but until then, go, vamoose! Enjoy yourself.”

Healer pressed on Spectre’s chest and tried to force him into the carriage. He was by no means complaining but he was still very much bewildered. Thankful but bewildered.

“Thank you, Healer.” Spectre told her through the window on the carriage door, leaning through it as it was paneless.

“Anything for the Mother Tree’s favourite human son. And, um, only human son.” Healer said and she kissed Spectre’s cheek goodbye.

He smiled as he was farewelled. The dove which was now a coachman yelled something to the effect of giddy-up and his horse, which was once a mouse, reeled with how the reins instructed it. The mushroom carriage began to move and roll on its spindly wheels, carrying Spectre away and into the night and right into the castle’s foyer.

It was an event of come one, come all but it was still a veritable who’s who of royalty and aristocrats, nobles and knights, and peasants too but it was actually quite hard to differentiate. It was a night of nights for fashion, everyone in gorgeous suits and over the top ball gowns, and plenty of folk in masquerade masks, as well.

The castle was a tall, white-stoned building with turrets that carried blue and crimson flags, it was mighty and beautiful. It was surrounded by gardens which were surrounded by a moat, the bridge was lowered but Spectre knew from his romps around the city, when the bridge was drawn, it was an unknowable, impenetrable fortress. To see it so openly welcoming, it was strange. Letters were checked at the door, sure, but it was still quite disconcerting to see large swathes of people come and go. It was dizzying.

Spectre disembarked his carriage and uncertainly scurried through the crowds. Already he was second guessing himself as entered and was blinded by how dazzling the castle’s insides were. A diamond chandelier illuminated a sparkling ballroom lined with elegant decorations with a silvery, string quartet playing. The music drifted through the hall and over the heads of people who made eloquent small talk and ate haute couture canapes.

Spectre had no idea who was who but they didn’t know who he was either. He wouldn’t even dream of trying to make small talk with anyone who could be some pompous dignitary from goodness knows where all the same as he didn’t want to risk encountering a fellow commoner with worse manners than he. He really was out of place here. It made no sense for him to be here.

Perhaps the principal matron was right.

Perhaps magic should never existed at all, let alone to give him grace.

He picked and pecked along the snacks here and there. He watched the people who came and went, who danced and made jokes. It did little to quell his nerves, however. Even though it was why he was here. To get those little snatches of a life so far removed from his.

What had the letter said, again? This was the prince’s attempt at finding some partner in life and politics. He really was just bloating the count in the crowd. He hadn’t even seen the prince but then again, he didn’t know what he looked like, either.

The ballroom was stiflingly hot. Honestly, how could anyone think in such conditions?

He recalled the scenic gardens on the outside. An elaborate hedge maze with planter boxes either side. Spectre decided that he needed a breather. He was far more comfortable amongst plants than people, after all. So, he made an escape. Not that anyone was watching.

The moment Spectre made his way outside, the second the cool, night air hit his face, he breathed a sigh of relief. The castle guards didn’t even bat an eye at him as he made his way to some seating on the inside of the maze. He just drifted in and out, taking rights and lefts at whim until he found somewhere he could appreciate the roses and the verdant nature of the leaves. The gardeners here were quite talented, Spectre could readily admit and admire.

Only problem was, he wasn’t the only one to have thought to take a break and breather in the hedge maze. Upon the cement plane of the seating in this hard to find, nestled away place, there was someone already there.

A young man with snowy white and lilac hair, eyes like crystals, and a mysterious smile. He wore beautiful clothes but everyone at this event had been wearing beautiful clothes so Spectre didn’t particularly register that as he tried to find something to say. He had basically bumbled his way here.

“I didn’t mean to disturb your peace,” Spectre said, flustered, “I’m just trying to find some of my own. Big parties aren’t really my thing.”

“Mine neither.” the young man replied. “And you're not disturbing my peace at all, here, come sit, there’s plenty of room. If you’ll have me.”

Not wanting to be rude, Spectre sat down where the young man patted. They seemed about the same age, Spectre was ready to estimate. Although, this young man might be a little bit older than him, two years. Spectre felt he was a good judge for age due to his upbringing.

Spectre awkwardly sat down and the silence between them was immense to say the least. They kept snatching glances at one another, waiting for something to say but nothing really coming up just yet. So, they both stared off into the distance together. At the stars.

It was a beautiful night tonight. Clear and wondrous. Spectre was more a moonwatcher than a stargazer and his companion here must have sensed that because they finally found something to talk about.

“Can you see cygnus?” he asked.

“Which one is that again? The swan?” Spectre asked.

“Yes, its right there.” he said, pointing it out with his finger and Spectre followed along the movements, mentally tracing the lines that he was making with the motions.

It appeared to Spectre that the young man beside him seemed to have a particular fascination with them. Hence why he had pointed out the cygnus constellation before realising he hadn’t even given a name to himself yet.

“Do you see it now?” he asked.

“I do.” Spectre said. “Thank you.”

“I’m Ryoken, by the way. It’s good to meet you.” he said.

Spectre hesitated. He wasn’t sure if he should give his real name or not, he swallowed and decided that as he had no real attachment to it, there was no point in speaking it aloud.

“I’m Spectre. Likewise.” he finally said in reply as Ryoken waited, patiently, politely, for Spectre to respond to his introduction.

“That’s an unusual name.” he said.

“Yes, well… I’m an unusual person.” Spectre replied.

“Is that so…?” Ryoken’s tone of voice was intrigued.

Spectre chuckled, “Unusual but not interesting, don’t get your hopes up.”

“We’ll see, I’ll be the judge of that. Tell me about yourself. I haven’t done enough schmoozing tonight, I don’t know about you.” Ryoken said.

“You're the first person I’ve struck up a conversation with at all.” Spectre said.

“Then don’t leave me wanting. Surely you have something prepared. Who goes to a ball without a few ideas of trivia up their sleeve?” Ryoken said.

“Me, apparently.” Spectre said and he sighed. He tried to think of something, he glanced around and saw the roses. Well, there was that. “Did you know that there are over a thousand varieties of roses?”

“I did not. I just sort of assumed they came in red, white, pink, and orange.” Ryoken replied.

“They do but there’s plenty more nuance to their identification than just their colours.” Spectre replied.

“Do you like gardening, Spectre?” Ryoken asked.

“You could say that.” Spectre replied, giggling nervously. He would sound like a lunatic if he was to tell this stranger his opinions on his life story and even the events that had gotten him to this ball at all. “Do you like astronomy?”

“I do.” Ryoken replied.

“Well, I don’t just like gardening, I love it. I love forests more, however. Its nice to keep flowers and plants in our environments but seeing them flourish in the wild, I like that more.” Spectre elaborated.

“Well said. Makes me wish there was some way to keep stars at home.” Ryoken joked.

“That’s a sweet sentiment to think over.” Spectre said, charmed.

They continued to talk more. They could both feel a rapport beginning, an enjoyable banter and it was strange to say but Spectre felt as though he could call this stranger a friend. He didn’t have many - if any - of those. Though, he did have to be cautious of the time.

They both did, Spectre noticed. Ryoken kept glancing back over to the ball which was taking place beyond those illustrious castle doors.

“Something the matter?” Spectre asked.

“I think I best go back in. I haven’t danced nearly enough.” Ryoken said. “Have you?”

“I have two left feet.” Spectre said. “And no one to dance with.”

“All the better. Well, will you do me the honour?” Ryoken said and he offered his hand to Spectre.

He shouldn’t. He really shouldn’t. If Spectre was calculating the time correctly then he had about half an hour - maybe forty-five minutes if he was lucky - before midnight would strike. He was an awful dancer but then again, he needed one story of the night for Healer later, he was assuming he would see her later…

“If you insist.” Spectre blushed.

He placed his hand into the gentle clasp of Ryoken’s. His hand was firm and sturdy but gave Spectre the impression that it had never seen a true day’s worth of hard work. He had the telltale callous from a pen, maybe also the callouses from swordplay, but nothing which said that he had ever worked a field, perhaps.

Ryoken took Spectre back through the maze, never letting go once with all thee twists and turns. It was almost exciting but the nervousness that nipped at Spectre’s heels as they got closer and closer to the ball again prevented him from truly enjoying it. He was an awful dancer, he had a poor temperament which didn’t mix with people, the magic was due to run out soon, and then.

A revelation.

“Hark, Prince Ryoken, how goes it? Found your betrothed to be yet?” the Castle Guard greeted Ryoken and Spectre, far too friendly.

Spectre couldn’t believe his ears. Did he just- did he just say Prince Ryoken. And why did Prince Ryoken just glance his way? He smirked over his shoulder, looking at him.

“I’m beginning to wonder that myself.” Ryoken said as he turned his head.

There was no way that Spectre, of all people, had found himself in the company of the prince. It was a cast of thousands. A needle in a haystack social situation. He wasn’t even here to try to vie for the prince’s affections and yet apparently, Spectre had him hand in hand.

Ryoken continued to hold him - and prepped him for a dance. They were chest to chest, Ryoken held Spectre for a waltz and smiled. Together, they danced a simple one-two-three-one-two-three type of dance.

“So. Did you know I was the prince?” Ryoken asked.

“No, of course not.” Spectre replied, flabbergasted as he was harshly danced with.

Not scolded nor critiqued. Interrogated. Which was far worse than if Ryoken was constantly butting in to correct Spectre’s posture or manner.

“I had a hunch. Because there’s no Spectre on the guest list. I did review the guest list, I checked it twice even.” Prince Ryoken snickered. “Just who are you? You're not a noble, I don’t think, but I have never seen clothes like yours before. That makes me think you're not a commoner so just who are you?”

Spectre was swung around and twirled. His head spun. He was danced with - or perhaps more accurately, at. He was completely caught up in and swept along by Prince Ryoken’s tempo then taken for a bow that left them nose to nose. Even closer to chest to chest and famously, far too close to lip to lip.

“I am…” Spectre murmured. “I am the ghost in the corner. That is how I got my nickname.” He revealed to Prince Ryoken.

“And you said you were an uninteresting person.” Prince Ryoken laughed.

He pulled Spectre up and they danced some more. Slower, this time. Thankfully. Spectre’s heart raced. He blushed, too.

“You are also far better at dancing than you said. You haven’t trodden on my toes yet. When you said you had two left feet, I was looking forward to seeing what disaster that might put us in.” Prince Ryoken continued to banter.

“Yes, well, I have an excellent lead.” Spectre replied.

“People pleaser.” Prince Ryoken snipped at him.

Spectre guffawed. The unsightly noise of it amused Prince Ryoken and they continued to dance. They weaved elegantly in between the others who were coupled up and joined in waltz. But every person they passed by on the dancefloor caused people to stop and stare and suddenly, Spectre could not have been the most ignored person in the room. He had to be the most looked at person in the room.

All because of Prince Ryoken.

It made Spectre’s head throb. This couldn’t be real. And it couldn’t. This was all because of magic. That had to be it. If he had simply come as himself in his hand-stitched jacket, none of this would have ever happened. That had to be it: this outcome had to have been influenced by the magic that Healer had so kindly crowned him with and as Spectre was spun around in the waltz, he caught glances at the clock in the far wall.

The clock was tall and imposing, with ornate hands and said hands were so close, so incredibly close, to midnight. Mere minutes away from midnight.

Spectre’s heart froze, “I have to go.” he said.

“Huh? What, why? The fun has just begun.” Prince Ryoken told him.

Spectre struggled out of Prince Ryoken’s hands but though Prince Ryoken was dismayed, he let go of Spectre. Spectre glanced around, searching for the exit and when he found it, he pursued it but Prince Ryoken pursued him.

“Where are you going?” Prince Ryoken asked as he followed Spectre.

He darted through the crowd. Spectre could feel the glass of his shoes begin to crack.

“Can I come?”

“Absolutely not.” Spectre replied, his voice barky as he made it to the steps.

At midnight, they were ivory-coloured and sleepy. Shadowed and alone, the music of the ballroom hardly reaching to the outer reach as they looked over the hedges and the moat once more.

“Can I at least know your real name?” Prince Ryoken asked as he allowed Spectre to flee.

“No, no you may not.” Spectre said.

He saw his carriage. It all but miraculously appeared at the edge of the bridge and he grinned. This was for one night only. That was all he needed to escape the drudgery of his day to day in the orphanage, under the all but indentured servitude of the principal matron. He did not mean to endear himself to the crown prince.

But he had.

His spirit sang and in his rush, or maybe it was on purpose, Spectre left behind his glass shoe. He didn’t think it would exist past midnight but on the off chance he did, he did want Prince Ryoken to find him again. He did want these happy times to continue but joy was fleeting. He knew that well.

At the bottom of the bridge, in the nick of time, Spectre made it to his carriage and he was carried off by the chirp of his coachman and the thunder of his horse’s hooves. They rode off into the night, just far enough to disappear from eyes but through the paneless window of the door, Spectre saw the darkened, disappointed figure of Prince Ryoken pick up his abandoned shoe on the stairs.

He swallowed a lump in his throat. They had had a magical night together but it was just that. Magical. Spectre had no doubt in his mind that Prince Ryoken wouldn’t remember him come dawn. He should find a nice noblewoman to wed. Not him.

The carriage’s wheels turned to mushroom mince underneath their own weight and momentum. The coachman began to sprout feathers and the horse began to squeak. They had made it far enough before Spectre’s finery with all their filigree and splendour turned to his worksman clothes, for the coachman to become a dove once more and for the horse to return to being a mouse.

They had arrived on the edge of the forest, it woudln’t have been that long of a journey back to the orphanage for Spectre to walk but sure enough. His assumption was correct. Healer was waiting on the edge of the forest for him, hovering close to a copse of trees and smiling.

“So?” she asked. “Did you enjoy yourself?”

“You could say that.” Spectre said. “I, um, I met the prince.”

“You what?!” Healer exclaimed.

“And I think he intends to marry me.” Spectre said.

“Oh. My. Gosh.” Healer gasped. “What’s next?”

“Nothing.” Spectre said. “I return to my normal life.”

“What, no?” Healer frowned. “You were sent to meet your one true love and now you reject him?”

“As soon as he sees me for who I am, he wouldn’t have me anyway.” Spectre said.

“You don’t know that for sure.” Healer attempted to cheer Spectre on, she made little fists in front of him. “Just wait and see you. I just know you’ll get your happily ever after or I have done a poor job of being your fairy god-sister.”

Spectre placed his hand on Healer’s shoulder, his expression was downcast but thank you, “You have done an exceptional job as my fairy god-sister, I can promise you that. Thank you, I have a had a wonderful night because of you. Good night, Healer.”

Healer smiled. “Okay, but if you need anything else, I promise I’m not too far away.” she said. “Good night, Spectre.”

Healer disappeared again, in the blink of an eye but a strange presence lingered. Spectre had always believed there was something strange about the forest on the edge of town and he was glad that his suspicion had been confirmed. Even if there was something oddly bittersweet about it, it was getting late. He was best to go to bed. There was much to do in the morning.

But the morning was tossed into disarray to say the least!

The ball was, naturally, the talk of the town but the fact that the prince had found someone he intended to marry, now that was well and truly exciting. Especially since to find this mystery person, a quest had been launched.

Word spread quickly, especially when it was accompanied by royal proclamations and trumpets but even so, when it reached Spectre, he was in total disbelief. He was just that. A spectre. The ghostly shade in the corner. It had taken a literal miracle of magic for him to have any impact and now, it was being felt far and wide through the citadel as Prince Ryoken was on the hunt for him and only him: the only person whose foot would fit the glass shoe he had left behind.

Prince Ryoken had proclaimed that he - personally - would sweep the city in search of the person whom he had danced with last night, whom he had sat in the gardens with last night, and he would not sleep until he found that young man.

It was madness. Pure and utter madness. Lunacy. Yet Spectre’s heart trilled as he was told this over breakfast at the orphanage. But, he had to temper himself. He was just hearing what had been heard at market by the principal matron, after all.

“Ridiculous.” the Principal Matron rolled her eyes. “Get an arranged marriage like anyone else.”

“Why didn’t you ever get married, madam?” Spectre asked, innocently enough but that was enough to incite cold furor from the severe woman sitting opposite him. “Nevermind, forget I asked.”

His skin crawled. He knew it was a faux pas to ask a woman of her age, well and truly past the moniker of either spinster or fruit cake but still. The rage in her eyes had been unprecedented.

“Why the interest in the prince, anyway?” she asked. “It's not like you went to the ball.”

“Can’t I take interest in current affairs? Regardless of how vapid. Though, if this mystery person was a foreigner, there is the possibility it could affect our politics.” Spectre countered.

The principal matron regarded him suspiciously. Her highly drawn eyebrows quirked and Spectre had this strange strike to his mind. He wondered, if she knew somehow, that he had gone to the ball and worse, that she had puzzled out that he was the mystery person whom Prince Ryoken was questing for. The silence was terse but in the end all she did was that she finished eating.

“Clean up for me.” she said.

“Okay.” Spectre replied.

His reply was clear and crystalline, perfectly hiding his intention of wanting to sneak off into the forest later. He wanted to see Healer again for she may have advice for how to best prove his identity to Prince Ryoken… should the opportunity arise any time soon. Surely this quest was foolhardy. The castle city was a city, after all, quite a large population - not to mention the invites which had come from overseas. Both Spectre and Prince Ryoken were one person a piece, a cloud of impossibility separated them, even if Prince Ryoken was determined to find Spectre again.

Even from just doing his chores and jobs around the orphanage again today, word travelled fast and even faster amongst the pipsqueaks. Where they heard it from, Spectre had no idea so the veracity was incredibly nebulous at best but if what even a fraction of what they said about the prince was true… Then determined did not begin to describe Prince Ryoken.

He had already cleaved through half the population on obvious accounts of incorrect gender. Then by age and height. It would be a matter of days if Prince Ryoken had his way, spearheading his quest by himself with all the resources of the royal family behind him. It was of the utmost importance, apparently, for him to wed and wed for love.

Spectre wondered why that was… Surely there were laws or other scruples to prevent the Prince of the Kingdom to marry whomever he pleased at willy-nilly. There had to be a reason why.

In the meantime, Spectre just resolved to check in with Healer again.

He finished up as fast as he could. It was about sunset when he got the opportunity to breathe for a second and then evening meals had to be prepared. The haste in which Spectre made food and cleaned up afterwards must have incurred curiosity because when he tried to slip out the back door undetected, the principal matron noticed Spectre trying to get away.

A shame he didn’t notice her back…

But she was careful to cover her tracks as she followed Spectre out.

Not too far, just past the outer rim of trees that made up the forest at the back of the orphanage. He cautiously called out for Healer. Fireflies floated around and with a twinkle of a giggle, Healer did appear before him - and to the shock of the matron who was following behind at several paces behind.

“Spectre-Wecter!” Healer cheered. “Good to see you again. Reunited with your one true love yet?”

Spectre frowned, embarrassed but Healer just found it adorable, “He’s looking for me but…”

“You just have to be patient!” Healer said. “Buuuut if you want a little bit of insurance, look at what I still have.” From behind her back, she produced Spectre’s other glass shoe. She laughed apologetically. “I told you, my magic is really touch and go. I’m not super talented but in this case, it's quite lucky.”

“Thank you, Healer.” Spectre replied and he accepted the other shoe from Healer.

“And don’t forget. If you need me, just call me. I promise I won’t be too far away.” Healer promised him once again.

Spectre was unsure in what scenario that he would need Healer but he did feel gladdened to have her nonetheless. She did disappear once again, however. The shoe remained though and felt lightweight and cool in Spectre’s hands. Unlike his trousers and jacket which had been ruined the night of the ball, this was something so precious for him to protect but he didn’t have any clear ideas of how to do so yet.

Especially with the matron aware of it and Healer’s existence.

Another day passed by. The eruption to the social order and gossip in the form of Prince Ryoken’s quest to find his one true love continued. The upheaval was all anyone could talk about it seemed and the current chat was that it would be any minute now. He had cut through many homes and businesses, a few close calls but none which especially satisfied him.

The curious glass shoe was all that needed to confirm the identity of the one who had stolen his heart. Or so they said.

Spectre just waited and did his best until the orphanage, which was located on the edge of town, was chosen as the next location for Prince Ryoken to investigate. In the meantime, he did as he was told and pretended to have no interest in anything vaguely royal.

Though, it was hard to pretend when the royals announced themselves. An entire parade of advisors and lieutenants, an arch-duke and of course the prince himself.

Trumpets rang out in cheerful tunes upon arrival. The carriage pulled by gorgeous white horses stopped right in front of the orphanage and the prince was let out of its velveteen inside with a smile.

The children of the orphanage were suitably excited. They clamoured for Prince Ryoken’s attention and he kindly gave it whilst his entourage asked around for their carers. They were after a person of a particular age and, well, maleness. Someone whose foot would fit the glass shoe that Prince Ryoken’s attendant kept in the middle of a plush, burgundy pillow.

Spectre could hear the commotion. Anyone could from miles around. His heart grew hopeful as he tried to make his way from the stables and into the garden. There was a plaza in between, it was a short walk, shorter if he hurried but the noise of the fanfare and children squealing had alerted the principal matron.

“You.” she growled.

She glared as she hitched up her ankle-length skirt and full-bodied the door that Spectre was trying to leave from. She shoved all her weight against it and Spectre did the same. The door jingled and jangled with them duelling through it. Time was of the essence for the both of them and yet, here they were in this molasses slow stalemate.

“Let me go! You can’t keep me in here.” Spectre yelled.

“Yes I can.” the Matron snapped back.

“Why are you doing this?” Spectre asked,as he grit his teeth. He banged his fists on the stable door as the principal matron tried to keep him inside. “What have I ever done to you to deserve this?”

He knew, okay. He knew he was a bad apple. He was a chronic runaway and he used to have plenty of sass. Spectre was well aware that for the longest time, he rightfully belonged at the bottom of the pecking order of the cohort of children who had come and gone during his time in the orphanage. The only one that remained but… did his transgressions from twelve under really work to incur such wrath from a woman in childcare?

“You want to know?” the Matron sneered.

She let go of the door and Spectre heard her footsteps as she paced upon the cobbled paving between the plaza and the stable. He felt the loosening on the handle. He stepped back and the principal matron opened the door. Her face was frightening.

“You ruined my life.” she snarled. Her expression was fierce, her voice severe, but her intentions in those four words, Spectre finally understood.

She was… The principal matron… A woman who dedicated herself to the care of the abandoned and neglected was the woman who had abandoned him in the woods all those years ago. What cruel, sick irony was this? A karmic punishment, perhaps?

The principal matron was disarmed by Spectre’s demeanour. It was most akin to a kicked puppy and for a moment, she thought that she had won. His arms hung loose by his sides, his gaze ahead a thousand miles away.

She shut the door again and locked it. Spectre heard the loud and sickening kerchunk of it as he was left inside the stable. A place with windows too high and too small to crawl through, with the animals and his few belongings.

“Goodbye, Spectre.” the Matron sneered.

Spectre was quiet but his mind was all fired up. He still had plenty of fight left in him. He would see the prince again if it was the last thing he did. He still had one ally he could call upon. He just hoped that the little dryadic thing really could be called from anywhere.

He waited a moment to calm his nerves and collect his hopes. He needed to get out of here quick smart, before Prince Ryoken left without even knowing that he was in here and then, once Spectre felt that the matron was out of earshot, he raced to the other side of the barn. He leveraged himself on shelving to at least peek out the window which looked out onto the serene forest behind the orphanage.

“Healer! Healer, please, this is important!” Spectre yelled but not too loudly.

He wanted to attract attention but not too much attention. Who knows how the matron would spin him in front of the prince if he tried too hard? Oh, he really was just another awful, petulant child to be disciplined to that woman.

His hands curled into fists as he banged on the wooden outer rim of the window. He didn’t care if he got splinters or not. He closed his eyes tight with a clench and grit his teeth. Spectre could feel tears well up in the corners of his eyes.

Healer was right. He did want to meet and fall in love with his one true love. He was fortunate to have had her at all but he really, really needed her right now. There wasn’t anything he could use to open the stable up from the inside: it could only be locked from the outside and it was just miscellaneous storage for everything else.

Please, Healer, please, Spectre found himself begging and then he heard it.

“Hiya-papaya, Spectre-Wecter.”

Her silly jovial voice. Spectre opened his eyes and his heart spiked. He looked through the window and there she was. She stood confused and bouncing on her heel.

“Why’re you in there?” Healer asked.

“Please, help, the Prince is right in the garden but the Matron has locked me up here to punish me. Go around the front and open the door, you can do that right?” Spectre asked.

“Grr, what a mean woman getting in the way of the course of fate! Of course I can open a door. That should be easy-peasy-lemon-squeezy.” Healer said.

“Thank you, Healer,” Spectre replied and he smiled a vulnerable smile, “for everything.”

“Anything for my human god-brother.” Healer chuckled.

She bounded off and Spectre raced to the other side of the barn. He stood behind the door and waited for Healer. He just hoped that she wouldn’t be seen. He hadn’t told her that but for a girl child dressed akin to a ballerina, she didn’t seem like the quiet and graceful type, but hopefully the importance of stealth went unsaid.

Regardless, he heard Healer in front of the door. She tried the handle and sure enough. It was locked. He watched the handle clanked as she moved it from the other side.

“Can you use your magic to open it?” Spectre asked, his voice was panicked and imploring.

“Can I use my magic to open it?” Healer mockingly replied. “Of course I can. All it takes is three special words: bippity! Boppity! Boo!”

Spectre held his breath as he watched the handle move silently. The mechanisms in it were made docile as something like an invisible key moved through it and then opened the door without being touched. Healer stood on the other side of the threshold, making jazz hands towards the door and she met Spectre with a huge smile.

“There you go,” Healer chirped, “now let’s get you to your princey-pooh!”

She grabbed Spectre by his hand and spun on her heel. She yanked him along but Spectre didn’t need to be told twice that he best be getting along. They made a dash for across the plaza, from around the corner of the main building of the orphanage and saw how the garden opened up.

A horde of children surrounded the prince with the matron and another of her assistants at her helm. Spectre’s stomach dropped. Without him, the illusion of there only being the super young and the wizened old was fully intact. It likely wouldn’t have taken much at all for the principal matron to convince Prince Ryoken and his entourage that the very person that he was looking for wasn’t here at all.

Spectre’s heart raced and he announced himself, “Wait, I - I would like.”

He stumbled with his words but Healer bounced next to him, trying to cheer him on. Her expression was determined, her little fists close to her face as her cheeks puffed out.

“You can do it.” she whispered.

“I would like to try on the shoe!” Spectre said and his voice rang out clear.

All the crowd looked towards him. The matron swallowed a gasp when she saw Spectre, and the strange, green elfin girl, at his side.

“I thought you said it was just the nuns and the children here?” Prince Ryoken said, wry.

The matron sputtered and Prince Ryoken looked over his shoulder, “Aso, please, prepare the glass shoe. I would like to check this person.” He smiled knowingly.

“Yes, of course, sire.”

Spectre came closer, Healer at his heels and the matron glared. Aso, the royal attendant to Prince Ryoken, was happy to see Spectre, also. Spectre quickened his pace, somewhere between a walk and a jog. He didn’t want to make a poor impression as he acknowledged Aso with a nod. There was a kind smile on Aso’s face as he held the pillow in his hands with as much dignity as possible. Prince Ryoken gave his blessing in anticipation and this moment was slow and sweet and perfectly ripe for something to go wrong.

Aso stepped forward and the matron extended forth her cane. She hit Aso in his ankles and though he did not fumble, he did drop the pillow.

“Oops.” the Matron murmured.

Her voice lost beneath the crash and clatter as the elegant, glass shoe smashed on the ground.

Prince Ryoken made an aghast expression. He was crushed and he glared daggers at the matron.

“What is the meaning of this?” Prince Ryoken barked at her.

“Simple mistake.” the Matron blatantly lied.

“It's fine.” Spectre spoke up.

“Yup, yup, it’s fine!” Healer added. “We have the second glass shoe!”

Spectre was nervous but he stepped in closer. He was flustered to say the least. His face was splotchy and he looked dowdy in his commoner's clothes but from his pockets, he produced the other glass shoe. He smiled.

He couldn’t think of a safer place than his own self to keep such a precious memento. He was very glad that he had never found a better place to keep it safe than right here with him because he could see the Matron seethe in the corner of his eyes.

Prince Ryoken stepped forward and met Spectre halfway. He reached out but did not touch the glass shoe. Instead, he was far too entranced by Spectre and it was as though they were the only two people in the garden, nay, the whole world. The sun was shining and the birds were singing and now, they had met once more but now in the beautiful and clear azure of the day’s afternoon.

“It's you.” Prince Ryoken said. He didn’t need either shoe to prove Spectre’s identity to him, just gazing upon him, his eyes lit up and he smiled wide.

“Yes, it's me.” Spectre replied. Even so, as his eyes were gazed into, all the proof needed, he did hold on tighter - protectively - to the surviving glass shoe.

Prince Ryoken drew in closer and he caressed the side of Spectre’s face. He was dirty and sweaty but there was such softness in Prince Ryoken’s eye that Spectre felt like the most beautiful creature in all existence. He tucked a curl of Spectre’s hair behind his ear.

“Well, will you marry me?” Prince Ryoken asked.

“I… Yes, of course, but.” Spectre stammered with his words through his grin.

“But what?” Ryoken asked.

“Why?” Spectre asked. “Why me? Why have a ball at all to meet the person you want to wed.”

“Because I wanted to meet my one true love.” Prince Ryoken said with the fondest voice.

“Yes, well, that would do it, wouldn’t it?” Spectre laughed.

Prince Ryoken kissed him and Spectre kissed back. It was a wonderful little kiss that just felt so strangely and perfectly right, Spectre swooned as he had all his breath was taken away by this kiss. His heart raced in his chest and he smiled. It was a magical kiss in front of all the orphanage and its matrons and Prince Ryoken’s advisors and Healer, too. It was a sweet and passionate kiss and just the first of many kisses between them in both public and private.

A wonderful wedding ensued at the culmination of many months and they lived happily ever after.

#yugioh #vrains #yugioh vrains #respectfulshipping #year of the otp #bippity boppity boo #spectre (vrains)#ryoken kogami #kogami ryoken #writing tag

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