First Love's Cider


A/N: This was written before I read his marriage event, so everything is wrong~ but the next two one-shots are closer to in-story events and occurrences.


At first, he regarded her as a serendipitous opportunity. Everyone already thought of her as the Princess by time he arrived (though Arthur was a male's name, and exactly how they came to think of him as a her was beyond his reasoning) and it gave him the chance to live without the title of Prince looming over his head.

At first, the arrangement was difficult. She knew absolutely nothing about everything. Her skills were abysmal. The butlers helped her out where they could, but every afternoon she always hobbled into his office, covered in sweat and dirt, asking questions about anything and everything.

It was an annoying reminder that he was still a Prince. Not only that, he worried her constant council of him would make the villagers suspect he was really the Prince. He answered everything as much as he could, but it would put him behind every single day as a result. Who knew how long this arrangement could last, especially if Father decided to make an impromptu visit. He would not be happy he discarded his title for personal benefit.

But as the days turned to weeks turned to months, she came by less and less. When he would walk through town he'd see her accompanied by one of the townsfolk, with that ever present smile of hers. If she happened to see him, she'd wave and keep walking. She understood now, the amount of work required for the job, and simply let him be.

But she also did not ignore him entirely.

Around the time she stopped seeing him daily, she began leaving him meals accompanied by a short note. The first one was a small plate of rice balls. Misshapen, crudely assembled, but still tasted delicious. The note read, "I saw your light on late last night. I know you're busy, but don't forget to eat."

And just as everything else, her meals began becoming more elaborate and better prepared. She seemed to rival Porcoline now, if not to others, but at least to him. The small plates and short notes were what he looked forward to each day. Especially since she had a knack for knowing exactly what he loved. The villagers had no privy to this information; it had to be that natural gift that made her friends with everyone.

It was a routine he settled into nicely. Until last night, when she set out a plate of a trio of turnips and disrupted his rhythm. "I looked at your schedule book and noticed you were free at seven. I penciled myself in, so see you then!"

All day nervousness attacked his body. It didn't feel right. She set out his favorite dish, looked into his schedule book, and asked to meet. Normally she wouldn't be formal at all. Did she want to give up her title? Did she want to leave? If she wanted to leave, what would make her stay?

And now he sat in the plush leather seat, staring at the large grandfather clock, watching the seconds tick by until nineteen hundred.

She burst through the door fifteen minutes early.

They looked at each other and awkwardly smiled. "Hey," she said in her cheerful voice, "Umm, it's a beautiful day out."

"It is," he agreed.

Awkward silence. She walked over and sat across from him. She twisted the hem of her dress. Her hands wore the callous of days of hard work. Guilt sank into his stomach. She worked hard for the people and him. How could he ask her to stay after that? Ask her to give more than she already gave? He swallowed a sigh. "You wanted to talk to me about something?"

She cringed a bit, then looked straight into his eyes. Hints of pink were in her cheeks. "I love you."

The words hit him like a stack of stones. He blinked several times. She kept her gaze firm, cheeks fully red, and said nothing more. Was she joking? She seemed serious, but to say that abruptly, without any sort of pretense, "That's a cruel joke."

She leaned forward, almost slamming her hands on the table. "I really love you!" The forcefulness of her objection seemed to surprise her. She fell back to the chair and covered her face with embarrassment. "Sorry," she muttered.

His chest tightened. She didn't want to leave, no, the opposite. He took a shaky breath. Arthur the civilian would accept without a second thought. But that was his mask, and Arthur the Prince had several things to worry about, especially when it came to romance. He smiled to reassure her, "Can I think about it tonight?"

Her eyes widened. She nodded. "Y-yeah. Can I stop by tomorrow morning?"

"I'll meet you at the square at ten. Is that alright?"

Her pigtails bounced as she nodded, "Yes!" She rose and nearly dashed out the room, "I'll see you then!"

He stared at the closed door as he tried to calm his racing heart. She was in love with him. He replayed the memory of her words over and over like a broken record. Elation lifted his body as a huge grin spread across his face. Just as the emotion reached its zenith, it crashed down abruptly. A long sigh left his lips as he sank into the plush chair.

What would Father think, first of all? He always assumed he would be married off like every royal before him. Father was more lenient than others, after all, he sent him here without any sort of pomp, yet marrying a commoner would cross the line of tolerance. As much as he hated his birthright, he was the only one in line for the throne, and he could not escape that reality.

She adapted to being a Princess well. In fact, she was a Princess in all but birthright. She won the hearts of the people, she worked hard on their behalf, and she governed them well and fairly. At first, that final part made him nervous, but like everything else, she took to it with a flair of all her own. He could very well pass her off as a Princess until they questioned her background. But she deserved more than that. If he would defy tradition, he would parade her as the perfect example that birthright did not make the person.

He closed his eyes. Seeing that beautiful smile everyday would be a pleasure. He treasured those brief moments they saw each other. Did he not fall for her too, somewhere along the line? When did he start looking forward to her meals and notes? When did his heart surge when she waved at him from afar? Somewhere, he began treasuring her.

Would everyday with her bring the same happiness he felt after she confessed? For the first time in his life, he could describe his emotions as truly happy. That was worth taking a risk. In the land of commerce, there was no reward without a modicum of risk involved. The greater the risk, the greater the reward. They would date, after all, not marry. There was nothing wrong with going on dates, and should they not be right for each other, they would split.

But should she be his perfect match, he would make Father understand. Hedging blindly into the unknown was not his style, but so long as she was by his side, they could make it.

"Yes, I love you too," he whispered.

Tomorrow would bring a new chapter in his life.