A/N

My first attempt at fanfiction.

Ever.

R&R and maybe I'll write something else.

This is kinda an angsty character driven one shot. It's not really based off of a particular fairy tale but oh well.

The Things We Leave Behind

I would be doing the laundry, ironing chiffon skirts and silken nightdresses, my face drawn from the hour upon hour of monotony.

When you came in I'd always be amazed at how your face would light up when you saw me. I can only image mine did the same.

"Don't look so grim Maggie" you'd say, the knees of your pants muddy from weeding, and your sleeves rolled back from when you had trimmed the laurels.

Then you'd grab me by the waist and twirl me around, not with grace but with an unrestrained joy. We'd spin until my woven skirts, seemingly so heavy moments before, lifted from the ground and flared out like a bell. A bell that I imagined rung with my girlish elation. And when we finally staggered dizzily to a stop, the room suddenly seemed to burn so bright.

I can see you twirling now. With someone else in your arms. A girl with fair hair and a fair bloodline to match.

Your uncoordination has been masked by hours of carefully practiced choreography, but I can still see it. Or maybe I imagine it. Imagine that they didn't change you at all. That beneath the fancy shirt that I starched this morning, you are the same boy whose kiss felt like a smile.

I stare blatantly now, the napkins that I was supposed to be collecting forgotten. Not even bothering to pretend that I wasn't watching your eyes, which for once, were not looking back at me. The only thing that spins now is my stomach.

I remember when it happened. When the queen and prince died in the epidemic that had swept the royal country house and the throne was suddenly left without an heir.

When you found out you were actually the king's son instead of a traveling musician like your mother had always claimed. I can still remember you sitting shocked; unresponsive to my touch.

There had been a scandal of course. The king and a serving maid? Unheard of.

But they soon accepted you. How could they not? You were not traditionally handsome but adorable none the less, with your lanky frame and tousled hair. The scandal just made you more appealing, mysterious even. And you had a heart of a prince, no one could deny that.

I remember back when you slung your arm around me and wound your fingers around mine. We sat next to the kitchen fire, late at night when everyone was in bed, my back pressed against your chest, as you twisted a lock of my drab hair around your finger again and again. We were radiant, you and I. Not beautiful or dolled up in velvet and emeralds, but radiant in our flushed cheeks and delighted glances.

Now as you walk towards me, your hand is clasped with a pale, uncalloused one, like two ends of a necklace. You whisper something in her ear and she smiles shyly, her cheeks darkening.

I only pray you didn't whisper what you whispered in my ear all those months ago.

That string of words, that back then, I thought only my ears would ever hear.

Then you glance up and see me.

Something in your eyes shift slightly and you smile a small wistful smile. A smile for the have-beens and could-have-beens.

That smile, even though I knew it is just for me, isn't enough.

When I said that I wanted to see you everyday for the rest of my life, I didn't mean it like this.

Fin.

Comments? Criticism? Review? Please?