Her Majesty The Prince XVII (Patreon)

Lou took a deep breath, then walked through the door.

At least, that had been her intention; however, she veered away at the very last second, instead taking refuge by the open shelves of the changing room. Her forehead resting against the wood, she stared down at the clothes that she'd taken off earlier. All neatly folded into one of the free compartments, just like everyone else's. Perhaps a little neater, even. She exhaled shakily, tugging at the knot in the towel she'd wrapped around her body.

This had been her third attempt.

She could hear the voices on the other side. Chatting and laughter, interspersed with the occasional splashing as someone entered or exited the water. Lou wanted nothing more than to go unnoticed; to blend in, and act like this was the most normal thing in the world. To not make waves, no matter what. But so far this was proving to be more challenging than her toughest battles had ever been. At least foes and monsters could be sent running, or cut down. But she couldn't fight her way out of this. She had no weapons to speak of, and only a thin sheet of cloth for armor.

She chided herself for relying so much on her eyes all these years. A proper wolf had more senses than that. Maybe she could approach slowly; let the steam fog up her glasses, and limit her visibility just enough to let her move about without inadvertently seeing anything she shouldn't. That could work. All she'd have to do after that is find a quiet corner of the bath chamber, and settle in. Somewhere she could be present, but undisturbed.

She was mentally preparing herself for attempt number four when she heard the pitter-pat of bare feet on stone approaching behind her.

"Are you okay there Glasses?" Chiffon asked, wearing nothing but a towel, a bonnet and a smile. Out of her three bunkmates, she was always the first one to check in on her. Lou had long since learned there was little point in trying to hide her feelings from the former theater troupe member.

"Mm." Lou nodded. She wasn't in any danger. She just needed to get over her silly apprehensions already.

"The heat's not getting to you, I hope?"

"Mm-mh." Lou shook her head.

"I'm glad! I'll see you inside, then!" And with that, Chiffon headed for the door to the baths.

Lou took another deep breath, returning to her mental preparations. She could do this. She'd start walking, and everything else would follow. She just needed to take that first step already! Why couldn't—

"You want to do this, right?"

"Wh... what?" Lou looked up from her little nook of solitude. Chiffon had stopped halfway to the door.

"I just want to make sure! You look like you're having a hard time. You do want to go in, right?"

Lou stared blankly at her, trying to figure out the meaning of her question. "It's... a special day, right? They... they never open up the royal baths to the staff." She took a shaky breath, unsure why her heart was suddenly beating so fast. "It's an honor, a privilege. A gift. It'd be rude of me to say no." Her voice cracked and dwindled down to a whisper as she spoke, the words coming with feelings attached that she hadn't been at all prepared for.

"Oh, Lou," Chiffon said as she walked up to her. She gently reached out and took one of her hands into hers. "You know you don't have to do anything you don't want to, right?"

Lou looked up at her. She opened her mouth to reply, but no sound came out.

"It's your body!" Chiffon said with her kindest smile. "You can do what you want with it. And that means you don't have to let anyone else tell you what that is."

Lou took a step forward, then another, overcome with emotion. She didn't know. She didn't know what she wanted to do. Being asked to decide was so much scarier than being told the answer, regardless of what it was.

Before she knew it she was in Chiffon's arms, the two of them rocking side to side. The sound of Chiffon's melodic humming drowned out Lou's hushed cries, today like many other days.

"There's no wrong decision here," Chiffon said between little reassuring squeezes, "as long as it's yours."

Lou held on tight, her face tucked just under Chiffon's chin. "I miss you," she said between sobs that were all heat and no tears. "I miss you so much already."

"It's okay," Chiffon said as she rubbed her cheek against Lou's hair. "You're gonna be okay."

Lou opened her eyes with a start.

She reached up to wipe away tears that weren't there; looked around, expecting stone walls, a canopy, or the underside of the bunk above her—but finding only colorful patchwork across a circular canvas roof. She sat up reflexively, turning to get out of bed only to stop herself mid-motion. She'd almost stumbled over the person lying down next to her, still fast asleep.

She took in her surroundings as the dreamlike fog faded from her mind and reality caught back up to her. She was with the Shepherd's Troupe, not at the castle. She looked down at her closed hand, counting finger by finger. Five days. She hadn't been at the castle for five days now. It felt like a year, and it felt like no time at all.

She let her heartbeat settle back down to normal as she looked down at the man sleeping on the cot next to hers. Jehan, one of her new tentmates. Though technically Lou was the new tentmate, as the day cook and the night cook had graciously made some room for her in their home, temporary as it was.

She looked down at him. Shouldn't he be getting ready to prepare breakfast right about now? Back at the castle, cooks would already be done preparing the kitchen for the day. Maybe she ought to wake him up, and spare him the ire of hungry actors. As she pondered this, Jehan suddenly rolled onto his back, running a tan hand through his short black hair. He scratched at the stubble above his lip. Opened his mouth, as if to speak. And then began snoring.

Lou exhaled, slightly disappointed the choice hadn't been made for her.

She gave it another thought. What if he normally got up later, and she'd only be ruining his sleep by waking him now? She couldn't do that to a troupe member, not on her first official day. She was still only here tentatively, wasn't she? She needed people on her side if she was going to stay for the long term. This was her one shot. Besides, she owed it to Chiffon—

She paused. Thought back to the dream that had all but vanished from her mind moments ago, but was now clear as day. She did want to stay here, right? The whole time during yesterday's trip here, her focus had been solely on what to do to get accepted. And she had. Now, on this quiet morning, she had time to think it through. She had time to ask herself what she wanted. Was she ready for the answer?

Jehan's snoring shook her out of her reverie. Better to get outside first.

Lou carefully got up from her cot and stepped around her sleeping colleague-to-be, making her way to the center of the tent. The canvas abode wasn't the roomiest one around, but given that Jehan was barely taller than she was, they both easily fit on one side of the central pole. The other half was used for the residents' possessions, as well as the oversize sleeping cot of the third person who called this place home. Maybe Lou should seek her out. The night cook would surely be awake if the day cook wasn't, and would probably have some things to teach her about how schedules worked around here.

First things first: she needed to retrieve some clothes from one of her loaned portmanteaus and go outside before she made any more noise. Carefully pulling open the first of the large leather bags, she picked the first garment that felt loosely appropriate and closed everything back up. Thankfully the morning light was such that even through the canvas of the tent, it was enough to get around without stumbling too much.

Lou stood up in front of the mirror propped up at the back of the tent. It was an old but somewhat fancy affair, the inside (or outside?) of a thin wooden door pilfered from a dresser. She double-checked that the flap to the tent was closed and that her tentmate was indeed still sleeping, then removed her nightclothes and took the fresh set of clothes in hand. Before she could put them on, though, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. She paused.

She still wasn't used to the fact that the person in the mirror was her. That her eyes didn't automatically shy away from the sight of the naked body she inhabited. Had it been the same for everyone else all this time? Were people able to withstand the sight of their barest self without effort, without pain? Find joy in it, even?

Lou herself had evaded this view for months now, for various reasons: protection, principle, duty. But that night just five days ago had shifted everything to a new perspective. This was the most natural thing in the world now. Her mind knew it; her heart was slowly catching up. Her body's previous owner had given her his permission. His blessing, even. Along with... a little help.

No. She shook her head as it to drive back the blood rushing to her face. She forced herself to stare down at the floor as she put on first her underclothes, then her outfit for the day. Now was not the time to think about that. She had more pressing things to do than lose herself to the past.

Her eyes fell upon the large square slab wrapped in tarps and ropes that precariously leaned against the stack of personal effects at the back of the tent. She'd need to get all those wrapping materials back to Soix. They'd surely be back today to check on her and that meant she'd need to have an answer ready. All the more reason to get moving. She checked herself in the mirror one last time, went over the remaining steps of her daily routine, and quietly headed outside.

Lou chided herself for taking so long to get ready. The sun was already visible over the horizon, the morning light filtering through the trees of the nearby woods. Puzzlingly enough though, the village of tents big and small that made up the Shepherd's Troupe was strangely quiet. She could see some of the hardier troupe members transporting what looked like the supports of a large tent around in the direction of the fairgrounds, but they seemed to be the only other people up and about. She began to walk in their direction; perhaps she could help out. She was desperately eager to show that she could be counted on.

As she stepped between the tents and the trees, she noticed there was one more person who had gotten up at a reasonable time: the tall woman with muted blue hair, whom she'd seen pacing and repeating her lines just yesterday. She was standing still, arms down to her sides, palms forward, facing the sun. Lou stood in place as well, not too far away, transfixed by this morning ritual.

There had been something that had drawn her eyes to the woman the previous day, a strange tugging at her heart that Lou couldn't quite put her finger on. And now, for reasons she still could not explain, it was back in full force. What did she find so captivating? Why was she so entranced by the slope of her nose, the angle of her jaw, the color of her hair as the light washed across it? This woman was taller than Roy; taller than Lou had ever been. What's more, she didn't shy away from it at all, embracing the morning sun with her back straight, standing her full height.

Lou remembered seeing someone like her once, when she was young. Someone passing through her hometown on a brisk autumn day, in and out of her life in the blink of an eye. She remembered feeling then something quite close to what she felt now. There was nostalgia and melancholy in the way her heart was beating. Something else, too; something that made her ache deep inside, in a way she had never truly understood. Something aspirational.

The woman opened her eyes, her ritual complete. She turned back toward the camp; jumped with a start when she noticed Lou standing there, staring at her. She reached up to adjust her hair as she turned away with an expression that nearly tore Lou's heart in half.

Oh no. She hadn't meant to make her self-conscious, or... or worse! She had to say something! She had to clear things up, to stop this wrenching feeling from twisting her up inside any more than it already had. But what could she say?

"I'm sorry!" Lou said as apologetically as she could. "I didn't mean to stare! I... I..."

She looked around, trying to summon the words that could bridge the chasm she'd just dug between the two of them. She looked up at the woman, their eyes making contact as the actress turned back toward her slightly. She had to say something more. Something nice, something heartfelt.

"I..." Lou began to say, her anguish mixing with the color rising to her cheeks. "I really like your hair."

The actress blinked in surprise, still standing in a somewhat guarded stance, half-turned away. Then she gave Lou a weak smile that went a long way to defusing the tension that this misunderstanding had brought. "Thanks," she said, her composure returning slowly. She tilted her head away from Lou slightly, looking her in the eyes; her smile now more sincere. "I like your hair too."

"Ah?" Lou hadn't been prepared for the compliment to be returned to her just like that. She shyly put her hands together in front of her and did a quick bow, then... fled. "Thank you!" she said as she ran off further into the camp, in a hurry to be somewhere else.

Though it was hard to tell over the sound of her boots hitting the well-trod grass, Lou could've sworn she heard a chuckle.

She made her way around the multitude of tents until she came to a clearing of sorts, situated at the back of the big top that dominated the camp. The entrance—facing away from the fairgrounds, inexplicably—was half-open, with the occasional troupe members entering empty-handed and leaving with long poles, ropes, and other building materials. She was about to accost one of them to volunteer her aid when she noticed Alphonse walk toward her across the open area.

While his eyes looked half-asleep, the rest of his face told a different story. There was a spring in the playwright's step as he made his way over to her, shirtless under his well-worn sea captain's jacket. Though she tried not to stare—a lesson harshly learned just a few moments ago—it was hard for Lou not to admire the artistry of the tattoo on Alphonse's chest.

Inky black tentacles spread out from parts unseen along his sides, snaking their way across his ribs but not quite reaching the middle. It seemed to be incomplete as his right side was still relatively untouched: a long horizontal pink scar visibly stood out against his darker skin, whereas its mirror on the other side was completely covered up by the art. Perhaps the tattoo had been infused with a practical purpose in addition to its meaning.

"Good morning, Lou!" He waved as he approached, a small circular basket in hand. "Sorry about the noise, we are still setting up the main tent. Did we wake you?"

Lou shook her head. "No, I... wait, this isn't the main tent?" She looked at the entrance again, trying to catch a glimpse of the interior through the flap as someone came out of it with a large rolled-up rope slung over her shoulder.

Alphonse laughed. "Not anymore! It used to be, but we have a better one now."

She looked up, trying to comprehend how a larger tent would even be possible. "You need tents that big?"

"Not bigger, smarter!" he said with a grin. "They make them wider now, longer. No more big pole blocking the stage. Two support poles, leaning away!" He stretched his arms up and out diagonally, nearly spilling the contents of the steaming basket in his hand. "Oops! So, now we have a tent with more seats and a better view. It's much better for the audience. This old one? Much better for us."

"I s'pose that makes sense," Lou said, watching as Brie herded a returning troupe member back into the big tent with friendly barks. "Is there... is there something I could do to help?"

"Oh!" Alphonse clasped Lou's shoulder with one hand. "I was hoping you would ask. I've been meaning to talk to you about the next big play. We can walk and talk." He brought about his other hand, tilting the circular basket of steaming white bread balls toward her. "Stuffed bun?"

Lou nodded eagerly. She was famished.

The two of them took a long circuitous walk around the camp and the fairgrounds proper, sharing the leftover late night snacks Alphonse had gotten from the kitchen. "What's the best way to do this," he mused between bites. "I want to hear your thoughts on the play so far, but I want to know if I'm wrong, too."

"Wrong?"

"You know, about the people, the facts. About Le Loup. About the Prince. I do not know them as well as you do."

"Mm." Lou rotated the steamed bun in her hands, blowing on it and passing it from hand to hand in the hopes it would cool down enough for her fingers to actually bear holding it longer than a second. Enough for her to take a bite already.

"I know! Tell me about His Majesty first. That way you will not be tempted to cushion the blow for my ego." He grinned. "I do get it wrong sometimes, just like everyone."

Lou turned the words over in her mind, mimicking the motions of the piece of stuffed bread she held. "He's... brilliant. He must have read half the books in the royal library. Wrote a few of them. Not a day went by that he—"

"The Prince is a writer?" Alphonse asked, eyes wide.

"Yeah. Well not physically, he's got people for that. He did it a lot back before the coronation. He'd dictate while he was working on something else, and Plume or Virgule would write it all down."

"I had no idea," the playwright said, selecting another steamed bun.

"I can show you if you come to the capital. I forget what name they're under, but I know what the binding looks like on the ones in the library's collection."

Lou took a tiny experimental bite, relieved to find that the temperature of her breakfast had gone down low enough not to burn her tongue. That always took ages to heal nowadays.

"Not a lot of people know about the book thing," she said, "but he's used to it. That's how the princess days were a lot of the time. The Prince would talk about something he was an expert in, and people would think he was being cute, or making a joke. It was really frustrating." Lou sighed quietly, deep in thought. "Every audience was a battle. Sometimes he won, sometimes he lost. Over time I s'pose he got really good at understanding who he was talking to. He'd map out conversations in his head, plan out how they'd go. He'd make m—"

Lou faked a cough, pretending to clear her throat after her last bite. That had been too close. She had to focus here; she couldn't just lose herself in recollection. She had a job to do.

"Sorry," she continued. "The Prince would make... Le Loup read the other person's lines sometimes. To help prepare, you know?"

"An actor too, then!" Alphonse laughed. "He does it all."

"Yeah." Lou smiled bittersweetly. "That's how it is now. By the time he talks to you, he already knows what you're gonna say. He could have the whole conversation by himself but he... he lets you act it out. It's more polite, I s'pose."

"Oh! That sounds risky. What if he gets it wrong?"

"He rarely does. But even then..." Lou had to pause for a moment. "Even then it doesn't really change anything." She swallowed; took a shaky breath as her vision became blurry. "Things still work out the way he wants them to. He can do that. He's... he's the Prince."

Lou felt Alphonse's hand on her shoulder as she stuffed the rest of the bun in her mouth, looking down, looking away, trying to give herself a few private seconds to calm down. But she couldn't hide anything from him.

"I'm sorry," Alphonse said softly. "That must have been hard for you. I had heard he was difficult to work with, but—"

"Mmph?!" Lou struggled to chew her way through the remaining bites, giving Alphonse a look of almost furious disbelief. She gasped for air, desperate to say her piece. "Who said that? Who said he was difficult?!"

The playwright was genuinely taken aback by Lou's sudden emotional shift. "Ah, well... people said that. Word gets around."

"What else are people saying? What'd you hear?"

"Well, these are from the princess days, you know? I'm sure he is better now. He did have a reputation for pushing people too far, inside and outside the castle. What was the saying again?" Alphonse scratched at the closely cropped part of his hair, from behind one ear to the other. "Oh! 'The princess makes the plays, but Le Loup's the one who pays,' that's it."

"WHAT? No! That's not true at all!"

"Really?" Alphonse took another bite, giving Lou his undivided attention.

"It wasn't like that! Ugh!" Lou gritted her teeth. She couldn't believe this. "Don't people understand? There's so much at stake! The Prince's dreams for the future... If you'd heard him talk about it in person, you would've done anything to help too. He didn't need to push anyone. Least of all... Least of all his bodyguard." She couldn't believe herself, either. She'd been pushed into an impossible situation, having to come to his defense, of all things. Of all people.

"So the Prince did not hide behind Le Loup." Alphonse nodded to himself. "Not even when the Witch-Fiend attacked? The people there—"

"He would never!" Lou said, her voice shaking, her hands balling up into fists. "He was always the one saying not to walk into danger! He never wanted anyone to get hurt. Especially... especially not..." She wiped her eyes with both hands, swatting the tears away like they were bothersome flies. But they wouldn't leave her alone. "He never got the chance," she added quietly. "He never got the chance to mourn."

There was an uneasy silence as Lou struggled to calm down, her eyes firmly on the ground at her feet. Then, she felt Alphonse's hand on her shoulder again.

"I am so sorry Lou. I should have stopped prying much sooner. Let's stop, and—"

"No, I want to do this!" Lou said, looking back up into the playwright's eyes. "It's important! It's important and it's right." Her face scrunched up, in spite of herself. "I don't want people getting the wrong idea. They should know what really happened."

Alphonse exhaled softly. He gave Lou a small smile. "Good, then. If you are sure."

"Yeah, I..." Lou trailed off. There came a surge of emotion, a familiar twinge deep in her chest, except this time it felt different. It wasn't being directed outward like it usually was; it didn't feel like she was giving away part of herself for a cause, or for someone else. This time, it was all circling back into her. She looked at him and nodded. "I want to do this."

Alphonse's smile grew wide. He nodded back.

The sun was high up in the sky by the time Soix returned to the fairgrounds.

Lou had taken this opportunity to give Brie a proper walk after her lunch break, getting some sheepdog handling tips from one of the troupe kids. She was in good hands, too; this one was an expert on the matter.

"He really likes it when you pet him here!" the child demonstrated, much to the joy of the troupe's four-legged guardian.

"Mm." Lou observed closely, right up until the point she noticed the cloaked royal guard walking down the path toward them. She bent down and picked up the rolled bundle of fabric at her feet, holding it by the handle she'd fashioned out of ropes. There came a sudden breeze.

Soix tipped their bycocket hat to the three of them, medal conspicuously absent for today's effort to be relatively incognito. "Ma'am. Sir. Distinguished resident. Another scorcher today, innit?"

Brie and his escort both tilted their head to the side in silent judgement of the newcomer.

Lou nodded to Soix. "Mm." She stretched her arms out before her, dangling the makeshift bedroll between the two of them.

The royal guard glanced at the object, then tentatively extended a hand, then even more tentatively picked it up by a free spot on the rope handle. "Ah, this is...?"

"Your packing supplies. They were very useful, thank you."

Soix took a better look at the bundle of tarps and ropes in their hands. "So they are! Well I'm glad to hear that, ma'am. Then, that means...?"

Lou nodded. "Tell Frederic I'll return the portmanteaus to him another time. I need them a bit longer."

"Oh, well," Soix said, scratching their chin, "I could just say I misplaced them on the way back. I'm sure you need them more than the castle does, ma'am."

The look on Lou's face was dead serious. "He'd never believe you."

The royal guard sighed. "He absolutely wouldn't. Still, I'm fairly certain he meant for you to have them. Fancy or not, they're only bags." They looked over her shoulder, beyond to the camp on the other side of the fairgrounds, before returning their attention to her. "You're sure about this, Ma'am?"

Lou took a deep breath. This was it: her last chance to change her mind. Her last chance to start anew somewhere else, to pick something that Frederic had suggested back in the gatehouse. Something more... normal. There was a tightness in her lungs, but it was gone in a second. There was no next step; this was it. Because that's what she wanted.

She nodded, resolute. "I'm sure."

To their credit, Soix stopped saluting the moment they remembered why they had gone to so much trouble to hide their uniform. They quickly brought their arm back down as fast as they'd raised it, nodding instead. "Then... then I wish you good luck, ma'am. It's been an honor. I'll tell Sir Frederic the good news."

The tightness in her lungs returned, but Lou did her best to dismiss it. She had made her choice; she owed it to herself to follow through. "Safe travels, Soix. Best of luck."

"You too, ma'am," the royal guard replied. "On both counts." They turned about and began their long walk out of the fairgrounds.

The strong breeze returned, catching the hem of Lou's dress and making it flutter. An errant leaf twirled around in a dance in front of her, carried there by the wind. She hugged herself with one arm, basking in the clear blue sky, the light, the heat.

Lou watched Soix walk away for a long moment before finally turning back toward the camp.

"Who's Sir Fred'ric?" the child asked. Then, as if connecting the dots, they perked up. "Is he a knight?!"

Lou smiled. "C'mon. Wanna take the long way home?" she asked, leading Brie and the child on a wide circuitous path toward the camp. "I'll tell you all about him."