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nitewrighter · 2 years

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Cindy Part 12

As always, for previous chapters, please refer to the masterpost.

Posting this because the epilogue got too honkin’ big!! Have some ‘Meet the Parents!’

---

Cinderella’s arrival at the castle is very quiet. Like, mostly, everyone is aware how volatile a situation like, “Hey whoever fits this shoe is going to marry the prince” is. So it’s like… 4 gardeners, 3 maids, and the butler see an absolutely filthy girl sleepily slump out of the royal carriage with the prince supporting her in her descent, and they carry about their business. If there’s an announcement, they’ll hear about it later. This is just a perfectly normal instance of some weirdly dirty rando showing up the castle in the company of the captain of the royal guard, the royal valet, and an almost-equally dirty footman who is certainly not the prince in disguise, no sir! Still, a royal messenger is discreetly sent to the king and queen, and they both hurry to the foyer just in time to catch the prince and the supposed shoe-fitter quietly trying to make their way through. In their company is, of course, Gabe the Valet and Guard Captain Brad.

“Chaz?” The queen calls out.

Both the prince and Cindy look up.

“Oh—Mom, Dad, this is Cindy. Cindy, these are my parents.”

“Hi,” Cinderella gives a small wave, “I mean—” she’s been a little thrown off by the whole ‘these are my parents’ thing and remembers this is the literal fucking king and queen and she quickly curtsies, “Your majesties.” She stands up straight again and brushes her hands down her skirts, sending a dusting of ash onto the palace floor. “I—um—“ she stuffs her hand into a fold in her skirts—oh it’s a pocket—and pulls out the slipper, “I have the shoe. The other shoe.”

“Ah,” the queen blinks and she gives a glance over towards the king, who like, he’s not upset, but you can definitely kind of hear the laptop fans whirring on him seeing this girl. Like… Is that a rat? On her head?

“Darling,” the queen places a hand the king’s shoulder, “Do say something.”

“Right—” the word stumbles out of the king, “So… the shoe fits then?”

“The shoe fits,” the Prince says.

“Here—I can—” Cindy slings an arm around the prince’s shoulders as she stubs her heel out of the shoe and puts the slipper on again, once again extending her leg, though this time it’s less of a toe-pointed ‘ta-daaaa’ gesture and more of a foot-flexed can-can kick.

“I… see,” the King says slowly.

“You can try it on other feet if you need to,” Cindy pipes up.

“Seeing as the other shoe…” Gabe starts and isn’t really sure how to finish that sentence.

“You know what?” The queen clasps her hands together in front of herself, “I know this whole slipper search has been an ordeal, so we’ll have some apartments made up for—for our most distinguished guest, and you can tell us all about it once you’re a bit more…settled.”

“Just so, Dearest,” the King agrees, desperately thankful for an opportunity to compose himself a bit more but now eying the old-as-balls dog sitting on its haunches just behind Cindy.

“You will have my report on the events that transpired surrounding the shoe, sire,” Gabe dutifully places his hand over his heart.

“And my debriefing as well, your majesties,” Brad bows from the hips.

“Good—good…” the king says blankly.

—-

So that night, both the king and the queen are in bed, and the king is wearing a fancy, kingly little nightcap and the queen is reading in bed next to him.

“I’m glad he found her,” the king says firmly, as if trying just as hard to convince himself as he is the queen.

“Mm-hmm,” the Queen turns a page.

“And she seems very nice and it’s clear he’s quite taken with her and—and you know him! He’s odd! He’s picky!”

“Mm-hmm,” the queen nods.

“But the state of them both—”

“Darling, they hardly looked any worse than we did when we first met,” the queen glances up from her book to lovingly brush her thumb over his sideburns.

“Well that was different! When we met, they were asking me which finger I would prefer they cut off to send to my parents, and that was—” he catches himself, “My god, you don’t think he found her in such a state?”

The queen thinks for a few moments. “No… no, I don’t think so. But there is a lot we don’t know about the situation.”

“I know, I know—there’s the reports and the debriefs—and I’ll be doing my own research as well.”

“Oh I know you will. That’s where Chaz gets it, you know,” the queen kisses the king on the temple.

“Mm,” the king responds.

“That’s an ‘I’m turning off the light’ kiss,” says the queen, turning off the lamp next to the bed.

“Mm,” the king murmurs again.

There’s the soft settling of pillows and sheets as the queen snuggles in for the night.

“…the rats are a bit of a hard-sell,” the king says after a few long beats.

“The rats are a little weird,” the queen concedes.

——

“I don’t think they like me.”

It’s late in the afternoon and early in the evening the next day. Cinderella is fidgeting with her fingers as she and the prince are walking through the garden. She’s wearing one of her nicer Frankenstein gowns, still too nervous to take any of the beautiful dresses in the wardrobe within her apartments. The prince just watched her plant the hazelnut she took from her family estate in a bare, quiet patch of the royal gardens.

“They’ll like you! They will! Just… things need a bit more time to get settled, that’s all,” the prince is holding Chauncey’s leash. This dog is old as balls so they’re both stuck walking very, very slowly, “Everything came together so fast…” he trails off briefly. “And.. I have a lot of questions, but I don’t know how to ask them, and I don’t know if asking them will undo everything—”

“What do you mean ‘Undo everything?’”

“Well… there’s the shoe. I know the shoe isn’t a normal shoe because I wanted to have glassmakers create a hundred replicas of it to expedite the shoe-fitting process but they couldn’t come up with any consistent measurements or fittings and—”

Cinderella pressed a single finger to his lips then, quieting him.

“It’s not a normal shoe,” she confirms, “But… I’m not really in a position to tell you more about it. All I can tell you is that the shoes, the dress, the carriage, everything, were lended to me by a very dear friend, and I had to give them back at midnight. And I’m not in a position to discuss this friend’s identity or resources—only that… they were acting out of a kindness that… is very rare in the world, and even if they’re a little snippy, they mean the best. Do you understand that?”

Her finger still pressed to his lips, the prince nods.

“But also, like you, I’m scared of kicking a hornet’s nest I can’t really see, so… I’m just going to take the good. And you’re the good. And I just hope I’m the good, too.” She withdraws her finger from his lips.

“You are,” he says quietly. He glances off for a second. "I—look, I should say this—about the ‘intended bride’ thing…” they pause under the willow near the reflecting pool that the prince threw himself into a few days earlier. There’s a little bench there and Chauncey takes the opportunity of this slight pause to lower his bad dog hips to the ground and lay down. “I—” the prince glances down and looks at her, “You don’t have to.”

“What?”

“You don’t have to do the thing. The marriage thing,” the prince offers a hand to Cindy so that she can sit down on the stone bench beneath the willow, “I mean, you can if you want, but I know it’s a lot. I know they’re a lot. And I know I’m a lot. And—“

“You’re not a lot.”

“I’m not?”

“You know, you seemed a lot more cocky at the ball.”

“I was a jerk at the ball. Everyone was… pulling out all the stops for me, doing all this stuff, and it wasn’t even about me, it was about their families! Their livelihoods! But all I could think about was how uncomfortable I was and…”

“Well you’re not livestock!” Cindy throws her hands up.

“I mean, yeah but—“ the prince’s jaw tenses, “Just… it was nice that there was someone who… didn’t see me as… that? For just a little while? But that’s not how things are, and it’s not fair to pull you into things just because I like you—I mean, I really like you—but it seems like you care about lots of things so—”

“I’m not the same person you thought I was at the ball either!” Cindy blurts out, “I do care, I do, I’m just… I’m scared, all the time. I’m horribly, awfully scared that everything’s going to collapse on me at every second, and I cry a frankly unreasonable amount, and—and—the only reason why I acted the way I did was… I figured everyone would forget about me… Like they’ve always done.” She blinks a few times and it kind of hits her that she actually hadn’t thought that much about the impact she would have on people after the ball—that her initial concern was about being recognized.

“How could anyone ever forget you?” The question comes out of the prince, incredulous, as he bends to look at her. Literally every staff member or guest at the ball remembered her for some good deed or kind word or the impossible speed with which she could scarf down celeriac tarte tatin. He’s almost looking for an indicator that that was a joke, but he studies Cindy’s face for a few seconds and he realizes that no, it’s not a joke. His eyes flick downward. “Cindy?” He says, not making eye contact.

“Yes?”

“Everything I’ve gone through these past few days to find you has been… the most exhausting thing I’ve ever done in my life. And I know that’s stupid—I know it’s nothing because you and everyone else is working so hard all the time while I’ve been off… fucking reading! Or horseback riding! Why am I better with horses than people? They’re the most fucking paranoid animals on the planet!”

“It’s not nothing—” Cindy starts.

“But I’d do it all over and over and over again a thousand times over or however many times it takes if it meant making sure you have a home with people who love you and value you.” The prince has been bent over the bench, but now his back is starting to hurt, so he drops down to one knee to maintain eye contact with her.

“Is.. is that here?” Cinderella’s voice is brittle.

“If you want it to be,” the prince glances off, “This… was also supposed to be a conversation where I give you an out. In case.. I don’t know… you have way cooler things going on. There’s so much I still don’t know about you, so much I want to ask but I’m… honestly scared to ask.”

“I know,” Cindy interlaces her fingers in her lap, “But… I don’t know how much I can tell you about it right now without sounding completely mad or without making things very complicated for the friend who helped me. But as soon as I can—if I can—I will. I promise. And—and I don’t have anything cooler going on. I do want to stay here. Very much so.”

“I mean, of course you could still stay at the palace—like… just… as an advisor. I can deal with it. I can be cool about it. I swear. But like, I mean as far as official titled jobs go, I think… you’re.. really… well… qualified for um. For the whole ‘princess consort’ thing?”

“So you’re giving me an out but this is also… a proposal…” Cindy says slowly.

“Well, yeah if you want to get really intense about it—” the prince huffs a little then realizes he’s on one knee, “I mean… Yes. Yes it is.”

Cindy snorts hard.

The prince presses his lips together. “I mean there are people out there— I can see that now—I… I can be with people, and I can be okay—”

“Prince—” Cindy starts.

“And I know that sounds stupid and completely removed and selfish of me, but… you’re the person who really made me see that. I mean, also people made me see that because that’s the whole point—”

“Prince…” Cindy starts, a bit more softly and affectionately this time.

“And I really do like all your ideas! I really think we can hammer some stuff out that can make things so much better for—”

“Prince!” Cindy suddenly cups his face in her hands.

“Yes?” His cheeks are a little smushed with the gesture.

“I get it,” Cindy smiles.

“Oh. Good. That’s good,” says the prince. A pause passes. “Is this a ‘Yes?’”

“Yeah, it’s a yes.”

The prince’s hand comes up and clasps around one of hers, still on his cheek, holding it tight to him. He squints his eyes shut for a few moments, just feeling the warmth of it. He seems to catch himself and his eyes flick open,

“In case it wasn’t already abundantly clear, I’m not nearly as cool as I was at the ball,” the Prince is staring into her eyes.

“Neither am I,” she says before kissing him.

——

The king has been poring over numerous documents pertaining to the estate where the prince’s soot-covered partner emerged from as the queen looks out the window with a chilled glass of white wine in her hand. She’s watching the whole ‘whoops-it’s-a-proposal’ unfold in the garden below, and like—this is really nice wine that you do want to take your time with (Is it new? When did they get wine this nice??)—but she does take a slightly larger gulp at seeing her precious baby boy who is just as deranged as his father get down on one knee to a girl who was covered in soot and rats just yesterday. Like, yes, she knows she and the king had their own very unique situation, but it’s like, there’s you, and then there’s your kid, you know? You want things to be better for your kid and you don’t really know what this whole deal is yet so she’s counting on the King’s nerd ass to figure this mess out.

She glances back at the King who is still flipping through different documents at his desk alongside Gabe.

“Well?” The word comes out of the queen a bit thick. It’s not clear if the king heard her. “Darling?” She turns away from the window.

“Mm?” The king blinks several times as if breaking out of a trance.

“What were you able to find?” The queen clarifies.

“Oh…” and the king seems to get distant for a few seconds, “Do you remember a Lord Ashcroft?”

The queen thinks for a second. “Oh!” She says after a beat, “It’s been a very long time but—yes. Charming fellow. Hammered out some amazing textiles deal with the east a long while back, didn’t he?”

“Yes! And we sent him that bottle of port when his daughter was born!” The king perks up with the memory.

“Oh yes—such an adorable, chubby little girl—and of course Chaz was fussing and miserable throughout the whole christening—” the queen’s face drops, “Oh god—don’t tell me that’s—”

“It’s… her,” and that distant look settles back on the king’s face.

“But surely she would have been announced at the ball!” The queen briskly approaches the king’s desk, “Her father—”

“Died,” the word comes out of the king as a flinch, “When she was 12. Only a few months after he remarried.”

Something dark flickers over the queen’s face and the King blurts out, “Appendicitis! Appendicitis! The doctors ruled it as appendicitis! And grief, probably? Heart and gut.. couldn’t take it…”

“Grief,” the queen repeats, unconvinced.

“Dearest—”

“I know—I know…” the queen lets out a shaking exhale and then does this calming, pincer-like gesture with her fingers with another steadying breath, “Just… instincts and cultural differences…”

“I know,” the king touches her arm.

“So this… remarriage…” the queen starts hesitantly.

“Well… on paper it seems respectable enough—but then there’s fact that they didn’t even pay for an obituary—for Lord Ashcroft! I would say that’s a bit suspect. And I had Gabe look into some expense records registered for that estate with the local merchants and bankers… all these heirlooms sold immediately after his death compared to the actual costs of the funeral… I suppose we all grieve in our own way, and its difficult keeping the things of a lost loved one around after they’ve gone but one would think they’d at least keep the some of the objects on here for his daughter’s sake—”

“But as a young girl, she wouldn’t have a say in it,” the queen’s voice is brittle.

“Not with the stepmother being the acting executor of the estate…” the king rubs his brow, “Granted, there’s still a lot we don’t know."

“Chaz said the poor girl was locked in a basement. I don’t think we need to extend a lot of the benefit of the doubt here, darling,” the queen’s voice is terrifyingly icy.

“There were murmurings at the ball about that family as well…” the king muses.

“I need to talk to her,” the queen says firmly, “This situation requires a woman’s touch.”

The king kind of gives her a look then.

“What?”

“Are you saying ‘This requires a woman’s touch’ as in you’re going to kill someone or—”

“No! No, of course not! Probably not!”

“Probably—?”

“I can be sensitive! I’m sensitive!”

“Of course, dearest.”

——

Cinderella’s been at the palace for a few days now. Honestly between the tour of the grounds and the ins and outs of her own proper quartering and getting to know the staff, it’s all been a bit of a blur.

“You can come in, dear,” the Queen is squeezing some lemon into her own tea before leaning back in her seat.

Cindy edges into the room. She’s been scrubbed head to toe and has been laced into maybe the first new, not-made-by-herself, not-made-of-magic dress she’s ever worn since she was 12.

“…would you like to sit down?”

Cinderella shuffles over to the couch and sits down a bit stiffly.

“Here,” the queen pours another cup of tea, “Sugar? Cream? Lemon? Honey?”

Cinderella’s eyes flick across the tea set like it’s a bomb she needs to defuse.

“No wrong answers,” the queen settles back into her seat.

Cinderella gingerly spoons a little bit of honey into her tea and the smallest splash of cream. The queen watches her hands, the scuffs on the knuckles, the brittle nails clipped to the quick, before Cinderella raises the teacup to her mouth and sips.

“It’s delicious, thank you.”

“Mm,” the queen nods, and there’s a few beats of silence.

“It’s… it’s an honor to be here,” Cinderella says, forcing herself to make eye-contact, “I—I promise I’ll learn everything I can to be a good princess consort. I’ll read more, and—um—I know I’ve been throwing the servants off, but I really am used to making my own bed! It’s not because I don’t think they can do it, it’s just… I’ll figure things out. I promise. I—“

“It’s all right. Breathe, dear,” The queen is refilling her own teacup, squeezing more lemon. “Do you know the story of how the King and I married?”

And Cinderella blanches for a second like ‘Oh shit I didn’t know there was going to be a quiz.’ She really doesn’t know how the king and the queen came together. She’s read what she could, and she’s decently smart because her stepsisters would sometimes make her do the homework that their tutor gave them and she would be forced to learn what they hadn’t been bothered to paid attention to in one fourth of the time, but these were mostly subjects tailored to the running of a house and the cultural refinement of a lady, like etiquette, poetry, a little bit of law, and some arithmetic with a focus on finance and expenses. History and science? Not so much. But the queen is just swirling her tea in its cup, not quite looking at her.

“The royal historians downplayed a lot of the… ugliness that came before it,” the queen says, and Cindy eases up in her seat a bit thinking ‘oh thank god it was a rhetorical question.’

“You see…” the Queen gently sets her teacup and saucer down on the table and primly folds her hands in her lap, “The country I grew up in—that is, technically, it wasn’t quite a country as I was growing up—but it was… oh, how to put this politely? A flaming death pit full of murderous power-hungry petty tyrants all with delusions of grandeur and no care as to how many soldier and peasant lives they needed to ruin or end to gain one more acre of land.”

Cinderella blinks at that, and doesn’t really know how to respond to it so she just sips her tea while maintaining eye contact.

“I grew up the daughter of one of these petty tyrants, then as a political hostage, to secure my father’s alliance with a neighboring lord,” the queen’s gaze has trailed to the window, now, “And then my father and brothers were killed, in one of many stupid, pointless battles, for this bridge or that mountain pass or some other such nonsense…From there I saw two clear paths laid out for me: Either my foster-lord would have me killed so he could snatch up my father’s lands, or, more likely and far less pleasant, he’d marry me to one of his brutish sons who were at least twice my age to, again, secure my father’s lands. I was lucky enough to have a handful of retainers from my father’s house to help smuggle me back to my own family estate where I could regroup and see of my own forces and resources but…” she sighed, “From there…It all kind of blurs, to be honest. A part of me became just as merciless as everyone I fought against, but at the same time I hated them so much, so I hated me so much—I couldn’t bear the thought of just… becoming one more of them. And looking among the people that were my responsibility to protect…” she trailed off, “I wanted a better life for me. For them. For all of us. But I didn’t know what that looked like. I was terribly stubborn about the idea of marriage, you understand. I imagined myself having some… passionate torrid affair with some battle-scarred Samson, and then naming whatever bastard came of that my heir to continue the fight when I inevitably died in one more stupid battle for this bridge or that mountain pass.”

Cinderella is kind of thrown off by the bastard thing, like ‘You can do that? That’s allowed?’ But then Cindy has the reasonable assumption that probably no one told the queen she couldn’t do that, and if she had done it, no one would really try to tell her after the fact.

"But then I met the king,” the queen goes on, “He was just a prince himself, then. The poor fool was traveling through our lands as part of some… diplomatic mission when he was captured by one of my remaining enemies. I didn’t even know he was in that keep, I was just… there to take down one more scourge. And I took them out right before I found him.” Her eyes get a little distant then. “I must have looked monstrous the first time he saw me…” she’s quiet for a few beats, then she seems to catch herself and she smiles a little, "Once I found out who he was, I more or less bullied him into our match. I was of high enough birth, after all. I thought he was so agreeable because he was afraid. But… I soon came to learn that there are many different kinds of bravery. Which… brings me to my point, dear,” the queen leans forward from her own seat, “Between what I saw of the king, and what I saw of my own people… I know what it means to have to be brave far longer than anyone should have to be. Something happens in the eyes…” the queen extends a hand and Cinderella unconsciously shrinks back in her own seat. Cindy’s mouth opens to apologize on reflex, but the queen is drawing her own hand back, fingers curling in. “What… I want to tell you is that… we want this place to be a home for you. I know what it feels like when your home… isn’t your home. When what remains of your family—” she catches herself again. “I’m sorry. I’m overstepping. This all must be so much on its own—“

“It’s— it’s fine—“ Cinderella is still tense in her seat, “It’s—it wasn’t nearly as bad as you think it is—I—I was never in a war—”

“It doesn’t have to be a war,” the queen says gently.

“Well, yes, but my stepsisters calling me stupid and ugly and saying I smelled bad all the time isn’t a war—”

“They called you stupid and ugly and told you that you smelled bad all the time?”

“But I did smell bad because I was cleaning out the chicken coops or the stable, or shoveling from the compost heap, or hauling laundry around, or because I had smoke pouring over me from the hearth and I got ugly muscles in my legs from going up and down the stairs all day—”

“They were making you do all that and they weren’t helping?”

“But that isn’t a war!”

“But you’re afraid of them,” the queen says softly and Cinderella flinches at the word ‘afraid.’ “Even now, even here, you’re afraid they can still make you hurt like all the times they hurt you before.”

“I—I—” CInderella stammers.

“Am I scaring you now?” The queen asks, not accusing, but genuinely concerned.

Cinderella’s knuckles are white around the handle of her little teacup. She’s gone deer-in-the-headlights again.

“It’s so hard to turn off…” the queen says softly, and Cindy isn’t sure if she’s talking to her or to herself. “And when you can turn it off you just feel so silly for thinking that way, but then something happens and it comes back all the worse…”

Cinderella’s half-come out of what would be called ‘tharn’ in Watership Down enough to sip her tea a little bit. The teacup rattles a bit in its saucer as she sets it down.

The queen gestures at the little tiered cookie trays. “Um… macaron?”

Cindy takes one and munches it down in barely a bite and a half, eager for the gap in conversation chewing affords her.

The queen huffs and slumps back in her seat. “Chaz was right about you. One really does feel like they can tell you anything and you don’t know if you’ve made a fool of yourself until after you’ve said it.”

“Is that… good?” Cinderella is picking up her teacup again.

“I think it’s good,” the queen says, taking a cookie herself and taking a bite out of it, “People are cynical, you know. It means a lot to inspire that kind of confidence. You managed to make quite the impression on a number of the palace staff the first night you came here.”

“Because I crashed the party…”

“Because you were kind. And helping seemed to be your first instinct about, well, anything. So this is what I’m saying—with regard to.. your previous living conditions, regardless of the abuse put upon you, there is only a limited degree to which the crown can respond. But I can assure you we will find every means we can to—”

“I don’t want to punish them,” Cindy blurts out, tense in her seat.

The queen’s gaze flicks up to her.

“What they did to me…” Cindy starts, but then stops and glances off, “I don’t think hurting them further than how they already are will help. I don’t know what will help them. But all I know is that I don’t want them anywhere near me. And I don’t think they need to hurt to know that.”

“…exile, then?” The queen munches a macaron and Cindy blanches.

“No,” Cinderella says quietly, “That doesn’t feel right either.”

“Well… we have a whole library and dozens of legal experts at your disposal, dear,” the queen smiles, “I trust you to be a far more merciful person than I’ve ever been.”

Cindy stills in her seat, full deer-in-the-headlights mode.

“…that’s good,” the queen says, reaching forward and putting a hand on Cinderella’s knee.

“Oh!” Cinderella eases up, “Th-thank you.”

And so, over the next few days and with much discussion with many royal lawyers, the first restraining order was invented. Granted, if you look up legal history as we know it, the modern restraining order popped up in like, the 1970’s, which is… really fucked up and you’d think it would pop up sooner. But also people are terrible so it makes sense that it would take that long. But we’ll just assume this was kind of like the whole ‘sometimes people act like Don Quijote was the first novel and not Lady Murasaki’s Tale of the Genji just because Don Quijote saw wider distribution,” and also an instance where something was so unusual for its time we wouldn’t really see its implementation until a long-ass time later situation. And also I made up the country they’re all in so fuck it. They invented restraining orders. Which is what Cindy deserves.

Oh god. like, I would hate being in the presence of the stepfam in any situation, but what I wouldn’t give to be in the room when the royal messenger shows up at the stepmother’s doorstep. Like the stepmother would totally think she’s receiving a ‘guest of honor’ invitation for the royal wedding despite the Prince’s absolutely harrowing look at her, and she’s like ‘Finally that little rat of a girl is proving herself useful.’ And there’s the royal messenger on the doorstep like, “Good afternoon ma’am, I have the distinct honor of issuing to you this royal decree that you and your daughters are not to come within 800 paces of the Princess Consort-to-be. As well as this fruit basket.” (The palace had never issued a restraining order before and as such wasn’t really sure the proper means of delivering it, and the fruit basket was Cindy’s idea so that they might ‘part on good terms.’ Cindy’s never issued a restraining order before either, and she also has a very inflated opinion of the power of gifts and fine food, so go easy on her.)

“…I suppose… the seating for the wedding will accommodate?” The stepmother says a bit blankly.

“Oh—Madam, unfortunately, I have no invitation for this household. But! You will observe that this fruit basket does indeed have a pineapple! So let that be a symbol of the crown extending all the hospitality it can extend in line with this decree.”

“Ah. Yes. A… a pineapple,” the stepmother says, blinking several times.

“Oh, yes, and also this sack of gold to cover any additional medical expenses with regard to the…” the palace messenger clears his throat, “Toe incident.” The messenger unceremoniously plops a roughly coconut-sized sack of gold onto the fruit basket. “Ladies,” he says, tipping his hat before leaving.

The stepmother snatches the gold sack up right quick but then she and the stepsisters are stuck staring at this pineapple for three days in utter befuddlement. Both the pineapple and the gold are enough to take their minds off of the increasingly large groups of starlings gathering in the hazel tree on the side of the house… for a while at least.

#love at first sight exists #but only in the sense that I consider that part of skyrim where you watch farkas turn into a werewolf 'love at first sight'#POV: You've been taken captive and you watch the hunter from Bloodborne carve a bloody path through your captors #like how can your brain NOT go 'wife' in that context???#what I'm saying is... Queen--it is fine he was absolutely INTO IT #cinderella #'also we've just tanked your entire social future but here's a pineapple byeeeeee'#Common sense: Hey you know you probably could make the epilogue one big chapter if you left out the queen's backstory #me: NO FUCK YOU I'M KEEPING IT

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skyloftian-nutcase · 2 years

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Secrets of the Shadows Pt 2 (Wolf Link Reveal Fic)

Summary: When Link goes missing shortly after his adventure, Rusl is worried. Preparing to leave and search for him, he stumbles onto a wolf. This has to be a sign of trouble, right? Rusl thinks it is, and the swordsman attempts to eliminate the threat... and then realizes that there is far, far more to this beast than he thought possible.

(Click here to read on AO3)

<<Part 1 // Part 3>>

Part 2

Rusl didn’t sleep a wink. Link was nestled comfortably between his arm and his chest, finally resting. Rusl spent the hours praying over and over, fluctuating between different prayers that he’d memorized as a child and his own desperate petitions to the goddesses. Link occasionally grimaced in his sleep, but the pain of his wound was never enough to wake him after the initial time, and that was enough of a miracle for Rusl to bring him some relief.

As the nighttime crickets grew silent, a soft drizzle pitter pattered on the roof. Hana decided this was a good enough time to wake up, and she began to cry. Rusl debated getting up to check on his daughter, but he didn’t dare disturb Link, and Uli awoke quickly. He watched her rub her face tiredly, having been asleep for maybe a few hours, and he felt guilt twist his heart and stomach. His wife looked at Link first, examining his state, before she silently slid out of bed to check on their newborn, carrying her out of the room. Link stirred marginally from the noise, which was simultaneously reassuring and concerning.

Was he sleeping through the cries simply due to exhaustion from everything, or had his body lost too much blood? Would he survive the trip to Kakariko?

Rusl trembled a little at the thought and refused to acknowledge that as a possibility. Of course he would survive the trip. There was no other option.

Speaking of which, the sun had to be rising soon, so he needed to leave. If he waited until the rest of the village awoke, it would be chaotic.

Especially with Colin.

Goddesses. How was he going to explain this to anybody, let alone his little boy? Colin and Link were practically attached at the hip most days, though the recent events had changed the dynamic of their relationship.

The rest of Rusl’s thoughts were pushed aside as Uli reentered, their daughter at her breast. She watched Rusl intently, and he knew there was no avoiding the interrogation now.

“How is he?” she asked softly.

Rusl glanced at Link once more, taking in the sight of his eldest resting comfortably. “I think he’s alright for now.”

Uli took a slow, measured breath, and Rusl didn’t dare look her in the eye. “Rusl… what happened last night?”

Rusl swallowed. Where was he even supposed to begin?

“I…” he tried hesitantly. He was suddenly energized and anxious, and he shifted to sit up, jostling Link. The teenager whimpered softly in his sleep, and both parents froze. When Link’s furrowed brow relaxed, so did his parents, and Rusl sighed heavily, resigned to being trapped on the bed temporarily. “I was… I was getting ready to find him. Like we discussed.”

Uli waited patiently as Rusl struggled to find the words, struggled to wrestle with his emotions on the matter. It was far too soon, but he owed his wife an explanation given everything that had happened.

“Instead I… found a wolf…” Rusl continued, feeling his throat tighten.

Uli gasped. “Like when the children were first taken?”

Rusl blinked. Considered that night a few months ago. Remembered his thought process from last night before he’d landed the blow. Blinked again.

Goddesses. Was it…?

He felt cold, drenched in the icy realization that yes, that probably had been Link back then, too. Why else would a wolf just wander into town? A black wolf with markings on its forehead, so distinct from the few grey and brown counterparts Rusl had seen anywhere remotely close to Faron Woods.

He pulled Link more tightly to his side while simultaneously wanting to scream and keep the boy away from him for Link’s own sake.

“Uli…” he whispered, horrified.

No, no, no, he’d done it twice, he’d hurt his boy more than once goddesses what had he done—

It was no wonder Link was scared of him at this point.

“Rusl, what happened to the wolf?” Uli pressed, resting Hana against her shoulder and patting her back.

Rusl felt his throat close with the overwhelming dismay and dread and anguish that filled him. He barely remembered that night so long ago, he’d been so injured and out of sorts himself, but he distinctly remembered swinging his torch and sword at a wolf, its ears peeled back and its tail between its legs.

Just like last night.

“I didn’t know, I didn’t know,” Rusl nearly whimpered, not sure who he was trying to convince. He pulled Link closer, his heart racing.

Uli clearly didn’t entirely understand what was going on, but she could interpret his reaction well enough, and her expression grew disturbed. “Rusl…”

“The wolf—he—Link—” Rusl spluttered, practically hyperventilating at this point. Link shifted, moaning, and it cut through Rusl’s panic like a knife. He moved to readjust the boy, his hands trembling as he did so.

“Did the wolf hurt Link?” Uli asked, though her tone implied that she was beginning to wonder if Rusl was responsible for the injury. She had grown three shades paler in the dull lamplight.

Finally, Rusl spat it out. “The wolf was Link.”

Uli stared at him. Then the words processed, probably being spun around in her mind multiple times. Her jaw shifted as she tasted them in her mouth, working through what he’d just said. “Honey, that doesn’t make any sense.”

“How much of my journeys have made sense?” Rusl fired back, almost hysterical, though he kept his voice low so as not to disturb their children. “What part of any of the most recent journey has made sense? Dark beasts? Dark magic? A shadow king usurping the queen, an ancient evil being resurrected, Link bearing a sword of legend—since when has any of it made sense, Uli?”

“But how—?”

“I don’t know,” Rusl shook his head desperately, tears stinging his eyes as he shot up into a seated position, filled with terrified energy. Link hissed, curling in against Rusl’s side, distracting him.

Uli, however, was focused solely on her husband. Her face grew steadily more horrified as she finally put all the pieces together.

“Oh spirits,” she muttered, eyes wide.

Rusl shivered, pulling Link onto his lap in an effort to ease him back to sleep as the teenager grimaced in pain. He hadn’t meat to jostle him so much, but by the goddesses he was—he couldn’t—

Uli’s hand was firm, squeezing his shoulder and dragging his attention to her. She was crying now, petrified. “Are you sure?”

Rusl looked down, unable to meet her gaze. “I saw him… transform. From wolf to Hylian. He… I…”

Uli practically collapsed onto the bed, dragging him (and therefore Link as well) into a hug. She was trembling almost as much as he was. Link squirmed between them, moaning uncomfortably, his cheek pressed against his sister tucked in Uli’s arm. Uli pulled away after a few moments to rest her forehead against Rusl’s, her eyes on Link between them. She ran a hand through the teenager’s hair, tears falling silently down her face. Then she looked firmly into Rusl’s eyes, and he almost had to avert his gaze.

“You didn’t know,” she said quietly, sympathy and sorrow radiating off her. Her voice was steady, bearing that silent strength that she always had despite the circumstances. His wife could weather any storm, no matter how much it made her heart break, and he loved her dearly for it.

Rusl choked up, swallowing hard and hiding his face in his boy’s hair. The statement was freeing in a way, but at the same time it still didn’t fix the current predicament.

And he still felt like hell for what had happened.

But her words gave him motivation enough to move. He had to help Link. He stood, bringing Link with him in his arms, still completely unwilling to let go of the boy. Uli watched him worriedly, their daughter cooing against her shoulder.

“I have to take him to Kakariko,” Rusl said. “Please… don’t tell anyone until we get back.”

Uli held his gaze for what seemed an eternity, understanding and pain swirling in her eyes, before she stepped towards her husband and planted a soft, loving kiss on his lips. The couple rested their foreheads on each other, eyes closed, drawing strength from each other, before Uli pulled away and placed Hana back in her crib.

“I’ll talk to the mayor and get you a wagon,” Uli said quietly, anxiously wringing her hands. “You get Link ready.”

Rusl nodded as he watched his wife leave the room quickly, and then he was left alone with the children. Sighing, he glanced down at Link, his mind planning for the trip ahead, giving him something to focus on aside from his worry and guilt. Hana made a distressed noise from her cradle, and Rusl glanced between the two before walking to his daughter.

“Don’t worry, little one,” he said softly, shifting Link so the majority of his weight was distributed to one side. It gave Rusl enough ability to briefly reach into the cradle and caress his sweet daughter’s cheek and comfort her. “Your brother will be better soon.”

Link groaned, uncomfortable in the awkward one-armed hold due to his size, and Rusl quickly slid him back into a gentle carry in both his arms. He swayed in place briefly, trying to get his thoughts together and falling into a familiar comforting gesture that had always worked to settle all of his kids.

I’ll need a change of clothes for both of us, and whatever food I can bring. Broth, maybe? I can get him to drink broth. We’re out of milk. Blankets, we’ll need blankets and pillows for the wagon. I’ll need my bow and arrows for any dangers. His dressings—

Spirits above, his dressings.

Rusl turned and settled Link on the bed long enough to pull his shirt up and check the bandages. They were still clean. Thank the goddesses.

By this point, he was growing worried for another reason. With all the movement and pain, Link should have woken up by now. Rusl had to check that he was alright, at least once, before they left Ordon.

Tapping lightly on his boy’s cheek, Rusl whispered, “Link. Wake up, son.”

Link squeezed his eyes shut more tightly, turning his head away from the touch. Rusl was tempted to persist, but that was honestly enough of a reaction to satisfy him for now. Link at least had some semblance of awareness to his surroundings.

Rusl honestly wanted to pick the boy back up immediately just to be sure he was safe, but he couldn’t carry Link around the house and pack at the same time, so he reluctantly left the boy on the bed while he began to gather supplies. When he had finished his task, he quickly returned to the bedroom to find Link’s eyes open and gazing around in a daze. He dropped his bag of belongings in a heartbeat and rushed to his boy’s side. “Link?”

Goddesses, he looked so pale. Link’s gaze settled distractedly on Rusl for a moment, and he furrowed his brow as if he were going to say something before his eyes looked elsewhere. Rusl followed his gaze to see if there was something concerning, but he was just staring at the wall. Link wasn’t lucid.

That wasn’t good.

Rusl brushed a hand over the boy’s forehead, then his cheeks. He didn’t feel particularly warm. No fever, then. It was likely just blood loss and exhaustion, but the swordsman couldn’t be sure.

They had to leave.

He heard footsteps in the doorway, and Uli miraculously was there right when he needed her. Goddesses he loved that woman.

“The wagon’s ready, and Epona’s waiting.” Uli reported softly as she walked up to the bed to look at Link. She noticed his gaze, and she approached him from the other side, sitting on the bed beside him and brushing a hand against his cheek. Uli dipped down and kissed his temple as Rusl grabbed the supplies he’d packed and headed for the door, knowing his wife would keep Link safe while he set everything up.

Rusl hastily tossed multiple blankets and pillows in the wagon to make a comfortable bed for Link, and then he stuffed the rest of the belongings in the corner, tying them down so they wouldn’t get jostled. Epona nickered nervously, clearly picking up on his anxious energy, and he took a calming breath, slinging the bow and quiver of arrows over his shoulder. He prayed he wouldn’t need them, but it was never a completely uneventful journey across Hyrule Field.

Reentering their abode, he found Uli gently carding a hand through Link’s hair as his head rested on her lap. She whispered softly to him, smiling gently, her features sharpened by an edge of worry.

“Has he said anything?” Rusl asked.

Uli looked up at him, her eyes sorrowful. She shook her head. Rusl tried not to let it overwhelm him. He had to stay focused. Approaching the pair, he slid his arms under the boy and picked him back up. Link’s eyes hovered on Uli for a moment longer before he closed them, exhaling a little sharply as the movement pulled at his wound. Uli rose as well, pulling the two into a tight hug and whispering into Rusl’s ear, “Please, be safe.”

Uli picked up Hana and followed Rusl outside into the dark pre-dawn air. The drizzling from earlier had thankfully stopped. He gently laid Link in the pile of pillows and blankets and swaddled him tightly in them, knowing the boy had to stay warm. When he made his way towards the front of the wagon to sit behind Epona, Uli stopped him with a hand to his shoulder.

“You didn’t know,” she said quietly with the same gentle but firm certainty as before. Rusl bit his tongue, his entire body trembling at the words, at the reminder, at the emotions fighting just below the surface. He dipped in for a quick kiss with her and then wordlessly climbed onto the front of the wagon. Uli headed back to the entrance to their house and watched him depart from there. He gave a small nod, and she nodded back.

Epona whinnied impatiently, and Rusl urged her forward. Ordon, Uli, Hana, and that damned spring were quickly left behind, and Rusl grabbed his bow, ready for danger as soon as they exited the woods.

Surprisingly, the journey wasn’t as eventful as he’d feared it might be. The occasional bokoblin appeared over a hill or around a tree, and Rusl’s sharp aim and quick reaction eliminated them before they ever even drew near enough to be a threat.

Epona guided them into Kakariko Village by midday, and Rusl immediately made his way to Renado. His worried expression and hasty Link’s hurt, I need help was all the explanation the healer needed.

When Rusl moved into the wagon to take Link into the healer’s home, he found the boy wiggling in the blankets, clearly trying to either get comfortable or get out of the bundle entirely. His eyes immediately locked on to Rusl when he got closer, and a light sheen of sweat glimmered on his forehead. His gaze, however, was sharp and clear. He was wide awake now.

Rusl swallowed, suddenly lost for words.

Link’s breath quickened and he squirmed even more, and Rusl found himself moving. He stopped short of putting a hand on the boy, guilty and petrified and disgusted with himself all at the same time. The gesture made Link shrivel further into the blankets, and Rusl wished with all his might that he himself had been the one nearly struck down, that he himself was in pain and Link never would have to worry about being afraid of his own family ever again.

“Rusl?” Renado called from juts outside. “Do you need help getting him inside? I can have someone bring a stretcher.”

It was honestly tempting, leaving it to someone else to handle carrying Link, to handle looking him in the eye and explaining what was happening. But Rusl was not someone to cower behind excuses, and his boy needed help now.

“I’ve got him,” he said softly, not really caring if Renado heard. The Ordonian swordsman bent forward, trying to ignore Link’s flinch as he wrapped him in his arms. He whispered, “It’s okay, Link. We’re in Kakariko. You’re going to get help here.”

Link remained silent but didn’t fight as he was carried into the healer’s home. His eyes were downcast, looking down Rusl’s neck and onto his tunic and lap. He never met anyone’s gaze as Renado guided Rusl to a bed. The healer grabbed supplies and brought them over with a small table. Rusl sat down on the bed beside Link, letting his leg serve as a pillow for the boy as the healer stood over him. Wordlessly, the swordsman pulled Link’s shirt up to show the bandages. Then he explained, “It’s bad, Renado. I did what I could, but he needs more than what I can provide.”

Renado nodded. “I’ll have to see what I’m working with, but a potion should be able to help. What happened?”

Rusl’s gut twisted as he helped Renado pull Link’s shirt up a bit more to fully expose the area. “Sword got him.”

Just spitting out those words nearly made him vomit, and his world spun a little. He blinked rapidly, trying to reorient from the dizziness. Movement caught his attention, and he looked down to see Renado removing the outer bandage from the wound.

All that was left was the packed gauze.

Which was going to be the most painful part.

Renado bent over carefully, tenderly picking at the tip of the gauze to start pulling it. Link hissed immediately, his legs kicking up and his feet planting on the mattress to push himself away. Rusl quickly took his hands, and despite how he didn’t deserve to be the one reassuring the boy, he whispered, “It’s okay, Link, he’s going to take it out so we can give you a potion. Just hold my hands, you can squeeze as tight as you want, okay? Don’t move. It’s going to be over soon, you’re going to be okay.”

Link obediently took his hands, much to Rusl’s surprise and relief, and the teenager tried to prepare himself as Renado continued. He stared at the ceiling, eyebrows scrunched together in fear. For a little while Link only winced or twitched, but as the healer progressed deeper into the wound, Link started to gasp and whimper, squeezing his eyes closed. His hands immediately clamped down on Rusl, who huffed a bit in surprise.

“Shit,” the swordsman cursed softly. Renado glanced up at him and he shook his head, gritting his teeth. “It’s fine. My boy’s got a strong grip.”

Renado gave a small smile. “That’s a good sign.”

Rusl knew that, and he was thanking the goddesses in his mind over and over, but that didn’t detract from the fact that it hurt. His boy had strength to break bones, and Rusl was certain he himself was going to need a potion so his hands wouldn’t be deformed when this was over.

Not that he deserved that kindness.

Pushing that thought aside, Rusl focused on the moment. Renado had returned to removing the packed gauze, and Link wasn’t appreciating it. Tears started to leak out of his eyes as some of the gauze clung to jagged, sticky tissue, and he whimpered. Rusl bent over, pulling Link’s hands to his chest, his heart breaking at the sight of his boy suffering and trying so hard to stay still. He rubbed his thumbs over the back of Link’s hands, massaging them as best he could in the boy’s iron grip. “Deep breaths, Link. You’re doing great. He’s almost done.”

Renado moved swiftly, pulling the last of the gauze out. Rusl glanced up enough to see the wound and felt a little nauseous. It didn’t look as messy as last night, but seeing it in the daylight with all its depth and varying kinds of tissue exposed to the air made him nearly pass out. He’d seen grizzly wounds before, but it was entirely different when it was on someone he loved so dearly.

And it was his damn fault in the first place.

Renado tossed the gauze in a bin and held a bottle with a familiar red liquid in it. Rusl hesitated for a moment, knowing that Link would have to be sitting up for this, knowing that his now exposed wound was going to twist and bleed and burn and scream when he moved him. Taking a deep breath and gritting his teeth, the swordsman pulled Link up to sit on his lap, and the boy’s head lolled on his shoulder as his back was up against Rusl’s chest. The teenager’s entire body convulsed and he cried out before slumping weakly against Rusl, gasping for air.

Rusl fought back the tears that threatened to escape.

With Link’s torso sufficiently propped up, Renado held out the potion. Link’s eyes were unfocused, though, and Rusl gave him a gentle nudge. “Link. Link, son, take the potion.”

His boy glanced around in a stupor, panting and clearly exhausted from everything he’d endured. Eventually his eyes settled on the bottle and his left hand shakily rose, making it about halfway before it started to slip back down. He was trying so damn hard despite the agony he was probably in, but it was clear he wasn’t going to be able to do it.

Rusl leaned forward, bringing Link with him, and he took the bottle instead. “Here, I’ve got it.”

Bringing the bottle to the boy’s lips, Rusl said gently, “Drink up, Link.”

Link obeyed, cautiously swallowing the red liquid, growing steadily more somnolent. Eager to ensure he drank the whole potion before he fell asleep, Rusl tipped the bottle back a bit more, his heart racing. He didn’t want his boy to be in any more pain. Link tried to keep up with the pace, but he coughed a little, and Renado reached forward to pull the bottle back a bit.

“Easy, Rusl,” Renado advised with a sympathetic smile. “I know you want him to feel better, but he has to be able to drink it.”

“Sorry,” Rusl apologized softly, trying to calm down. “We’ll go slowly, Link.”

This time, Link had gotten enough potion in his system to shakily grasp the bottle alongside Rusl’s steady grip, bringing the swordsman immense relief. It was amazing what potions could do. Link’s hands trembled too much to hold it by himself, but he was at least trying to guide it in so he wouldn’t choke on it. It felt like an eternity, but soon enough the teenager had finished the contents, and Renado took the bottle away as Link leaned heavily on Rusl, sighing. He turned his head to the right so he could better see the healer.

“Thanks,” Link mumbled, trying to give a smile. Ruls’ heart sang at hearing the boy’s voice, consoled at the thought that he was actually doing better.

Then Link tipped his head up to Rusl, and the swordsman felt his heart clench. Dread and worry filled him, not knowing what sort of reaction he was going to get. Link’s small, weak smile that he had directed at the healer grew a little, his face warming. “Thanks, Pa.”

That… that had not been the reaction he’d expected. Rusl melted right then and there, tears streaming out of his eyes as his lip wobbled pathetically. Two simple words, spoken softly with all the strength the tired teenager could muster, were enough to reduce the stalwart resistance member to a penitent husk of a man, holding his boy so, so tightly.

Rusl kissed Link’s forehead and buried his face in the boy’s hair, too overwhelmed for words.

He was going to be okay.

#hmm I'm on the fence with this but hopefully y'all like it #I love Uli and how she's so supportive and gentle and just keeps moving forward despite all the insanity #like her boys went missing and Rusl got seriously injured trying to find them and she just stays by her hubby's side and cares for him #despite whatever she has to be feeling #what a woman #anyway story related stuff lol Rusl is an absolute disaster #but emotions are gonna be addressed next now that Link isn't in physical danger anymore #so I think it's gonna be probably be 1 more chapter an maybe an epilogue #poor Link I want to hug him #but I think he's getting plenty of hugs already lol #twilight princess #twilight princess link #tp link #rusl #uli #renado #wolf link reveal fic #secrets of the shadows #legend of zelda #writing

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