Okay, I know I promised you guys that I would do my version of The Little Match Girl first before Giselle's, but... I'm so sorry! I'm sorry to disappoint you guys, but I just don't have the motivation yet to do it. Still, I don't want to leave you guys with nothing. You've been waiting for way too long, so I might as well start with Giselle's past. Please forgive me for this sudden change.
Warning ahead of time. If you've read my story, you tend to notice that I would avoid using curse words. And that if I had to, I would censored the words. Please be warn that there will be more cursing in the next few chapters.
Please enjoy?
Chapter 1: A Newborn Star's Birth
Once upon a time, in Funen Denmark, there stood the Kingdom of Egeskov. Born to rule this kingdom was once a beautiful prince. He was blessed with dashing looks and was adored by the people. However, an old woman had warned the inhabitants to not let the prince gaze at himself in the mirror, for it would bring doom to the kingdom. Sadly, her words fell on deaf ears and she was ousted from Egeskov. Growing up spoiled and having everything he ever wanted since childhood, the pampered prince eventually ascended the throne as king. Upon seeing his reflection in the mirror, he fell in love with himself.
"What a beautiful creature! None ever seen is this entire kingdom! No - in this whole world!" he would boasted.
Very soon, the king became a vain and selfish ruler, taxing his people to buy himself all the best clothes in the world. His happiness was bought out of his subjects' misery and misfortune. During the intense summer, crops failed to grow from the scorching sun. In the winter, everyone would be out in the streets, starving and in search for food. Despite the king would collect his annual taxes, the people would try to make the best with what they had. But it wasn't enough and it didn't last long. Shortly after, the people began to divide among themselves. Not only do they hate and cursed their king, but no one shared with anyone.
A rift was created. Now, only the rich would live a more easier life, going to festivals and managing to buy expensive gifts, while leaving the poor with practically nothing. Egeskov, once a prosperous place where everyone lived happy and share, now becomes a former shadow of itself. People would look after themselves, not caring to help the poor and needy. People are happy at the cost of another's pain and suffering. The old prophet was right. Their king turned out to be more of the kingdom's curse than blessing. And it wouldn't be long until one day, his constant vanity will be the plague that completely destroys the kingdom.
This is where the story will start.
In the spring season of 1800, there was a man with light blonde hair and amber eyes. Being in the warm month of April, he is dressed in a long, woolly white shirt, rolling his long sleeves up his arms. The man had on brown trousers with white woolen stockings underneath and brown leather dress shoes with buckles in the front. This man's name is Claude. He's a kind and earnest man and working with him is his wife, Berthe. She has long, bright fiery hair and blue eyes. Like her husband, the woman worked very hard, dressed in dark blue, mostly woolly fabric and leather boots on her feet.
The two of them had met four years ago when Claude helped her with fieldwork. Making himself a new friend, he would talk with her to make work in the fields less overbearing. They were sixteen at that time. At the age of eighteen, they wed, moving away from the fields and settled down in the Countryside. Together, they built a Matchstick Shop since there were many woods that could be gathered. Now, the couple were out in the forest, collecting wood as much as possible.
Once they were finished, they returned home before it got dark. Despite its looks, the shop is actually bigger than the outside, being two stories. Even though it was large, it was still a humble looking place to live. Claude was the one who opened the door on their way in.
"Here, be careful, dear." he warned her about the steps.
"Thank you, Claude." she smiled.
Putting the wood down, she sighed, helping her husband in making matches. He joined her, immediately getting to work. After a moment of silence, he noticed her troubled look.
"Berthe, what's wrong?"
"I'm just tired. How could King Oberon be so cruel?"
"I don't know. But, once I sell my matches, we could afford something to eat." he assured, looking into her hopeless eyes. "You have to eat well if you wish to add another member into our family."
"Yeah, you're right." she smiled back at him, placing a hand on her stomach.
And so, they resumed working until they filled baskets full of matchsticks. Taking a basket each Claude and Berthe left their shop to sell what they had. By the time it was dusk, the couple returned home with happy looks on their faces. They each have sold their matchsticks, their baskets filled with gold coins. In their delight, they counted and were happy, believing that their suffering will soon end. That is... Until the door knocked.
"Who could that be?" Claude wondered as his wife got up to answer the door.
When she opened, she saw the king's guards. Surprised, but not without her manners, she greeted the two men.
"Good evening. And what are the king's two guards doing here, might I ask?"
"Today is King Oberon's birthday. As ordered by His Majesty, he requested that everyone pays 75% of the regular tax." a guard explained.
"But... That's too much!" Berthe protested.
"Sorry, but king's orders." the another guard argued.
Without another word, the two guards forced their way through, shoving the soon-to-be mother aside as they took more of the couple's money. As Claude helped his wife up, she began clinging onto one of the guards' legs. He tried shaking his foot free, but she cling very hard.
"Please! We need the money! I'm with child and if I starve, so will my child!" she begged.
At the mentioning of an unborn child, the first guard's expression softens. He looked at his partner, who merely gives a shrug, not knowing what to do. Turning his attention back to the pleading woman, he sighed. Kneeling at her level, he gently removed her hand away from his feet before softly speaking to her.
"I can't give you the money. But take this emblem. Given it to the chef of the Egeskov Palace. He can help you." pressing the emblem into Berthe's hands, the guard got up and left with his partner.
Alone with just her husband, Berthe got up and hugged Claude, sobbing. The man embraced her back, rubbing her back as he stood without uttering any words of comfort.
Later that late night, the couple sneaked into the palace kitchen where they met with the chef. He had just finished making dishes for King Oberon's 26th birthday. Many of the dishes were left unfinished, so he gave the leftovers to the couple. They couldn't thank the chef enough for his generosity.
"A mother has to take care of herself to care for her child." the chef replied, smiling at Berthe.
"Thank you." Claude replied.
"Ah! It's no problem, eat, eat! I won't be satisfied until you are full!" the man exclaimed. "Once you're done, you may even take the leftovers. I'll go boxed them for you."
"How can we repay you?" Berthe questioned.
"You really want to repay me?" he asked, receiving a nod. "Then care for the child."
The woman smiled as she dip her spoon into the soup. Claude saw how happy she was and started to hold her hand. She returned the gesture, squeezing his. Together, they ate and when finished with their meal, have take outs. Leaving the kitchen, the couple waved the chef goodbye before returning to their home.
For a while, the two of them lived slightly better than before with the help of the chief. And many times, the couple would sneak back into the palace to get more free food. However, their comforting life was soon going to be short lived. Words have spread and it has even reach the king's ears a few weeks later. The news has reached him in the morning. He was sitting on his throne, happily spending his time gazing at himself until the prime minister came into the Throne Room, bursting with the news.
"What is it now, prime minister? Can't you see that I don't have time for your tomfoolery!?"
"Forgive me, Your Majesty, but there has been these rumors..."
"Hmph, well whatever it is, it's probably nothing important. You may now leave."
"But Your Majesty, it concerns the palace chief." the man insisted, going further into explaining the problem.
It took a while, but the king eventually let the news sink in. Once he did, his blissful expression changed. Immediately, he stood up from his throne.
"What!?" he exclaimed, taking his sight away from his hand mirror. "What do you mean?!"
"I-It's just as I said, Your Majesty." the prime minister replied.
The king shook with rage as his face turned an angry red, "You better listen to me now, prime minister. Only the best can dine the best food and wear the best clothes. No one, but me, can have such special treatment! Is that clear?"
"Y-Yes, Your Majesty." the prime minister stuttered.
"Good!" the king snorted. "Now, go tell that chef that he's fired! Hire a new cook and make sure they don't share my food with those unrefined beggars! We can't have these dirty peasants marring my beautiful palace with their grimy, filthy self."
"But-" the man was about to protest.
"I am the king, this is my palace, made for me! You better heed my warning, prime minister. Do I make myself clear?" Oberon stresses the last part.
"Yes sire." the prime minister bowed his head before leaving the Throne Room.
Alone, Oberon sit back down on his throne, sighing. Taking out his hand mirror, he began to stare at himself again. He sighed again, however, unlike the previous one when he was stressed, this one was out of bliss. That's right. No one can outshine him, and therefore, are below him - unworthy to live in luxury. That's how it has been and that's how it should be. He is right and they are wrong. Simple as that.
Besides, anyone who dares to challenge him shall be punished. No one will get away at making a mockery out of him. Getting rid of that chef will teach them all a lesson. Letting out another blissful sigh, he continued to ever so gaze at his reflection as if it was a real human being.
"Oh, such beauty. I'm so blessed, and it should stay that way."
With those light blonde, curly long hair, a youthful face, and stunning grey eyes... He's the image of perfection! A natural beauty. His clothes and royal crown only enhance his looks even more. As such, he must make sure to dress the best to keep up his wonderful appearance.
Meanwhile, elsewhere in the palace, there was a ruckus. The poor chef was being pushed out of the kitchen with his bags. He didn't understand. For one second ago, he was busy preparing a meal and then after, the king's guards started to dragged him out of the room. He wanted answers, but was given none. He tried everything. Protesting, struggling, squirming, but all was fruitless. The guards took his stuff from his personal room and pushed it into the chef's arms before shoving him out of the palace gates.
"What's going on!?" he complained.
"The king cannot allow peasants to be fed." the guard answered.
The poor man had thought that he was just being taken outside of the palace, but he was wrong. Instead, he was being dragged outside the kingdom. Many people gathered and saw him being taken. Words were hushed as they watched the screaming, flailing chef being taken away. Once they were fully out of the kingdom, the guards pushed the man into a mud puddle before closing the gates to Egeskov. With nothing else, the poor chef took his bag and left, wandering into a path that will take him into the forest.
After that incident in the morning, everyone was talking about it. The words eventually reached Claude's ears. With bad news, he returned to his shop to meet the worried look of his wife. He told her about the chef and how the poor man was banished from the kingdom. The woman became somber, placing her hand on a small bump in her stomach. Understanding her concern, Claude sat next to his wife and offered her words of comfort. However, no matter how much he tried, they both know one thing. They will have to work even harder than before.
It was back to square one. They had to gather as much wood and materials than before in preparation for the winter. Earning money was hard, especially when they always have to pay taxes. Very soon, Berthe was unable to work due to the child inside of her. So, Claude was tasked with double duty, sometimes coming home very late in order to sell his matches. Business isn't doing so well. Many nobles or higher class has no need for matches for they have their own fire. As for those who do need him, they don't even have the money to pay.
Seeing those hopeless eyes, he really wanted to help. He really do. But, he has a wife to care first and so, cannot give his matches out for free. On one night, the man returned home with one of the basket filled halfway with golden coins and the other basket still full of matchsticks. Looking very grim, he sighed, taking off his coat before sitting down in a chair, rubbing his forehead to clear himself of stress. Taking out a small bottle of alcohol, he was considering to drink his worries away when the presence of his wife caught his attention.
"Are you going to drink?" she inquired. "You know you can't. It's not good for you."
Lowering the bottle, he sighed, "I know, but... We rarely have a lot."
Berthe sat down next to him, putting a hand on top of his, "It will get better."
He smiled a little at her, "How's the little one doing in there?"
"It could do better." she guide his hand onto her swollen belly.
"Kick for your father, will you?" he asked.
It was faint, but there was a small kick. He felt it and laughed. It seems that the child wanted to live. Otherwise, why would it try to kick? Getting up with renewed hope, Claude put on his jacket before taking the basket with all the earned money with him. As he walked towards the door, his action puzzled his wife.
"Where are you going, Claude?"
"I have to find food. Neither of you will be healthy if I don't find something for you two to eat. I'll be right back."
With that, he was gone. Seeing her husband made her smile slightly. He is such a kind person. Suddenly, the midwife came into the kitchen. She had volunteered to help Berthe when she couldn't work anymore. In exchange for shelter, she would be in charged with the cleaning, cooking, and helping Berthe when the time comes. Though her time here is limited until the child is born, she didn't mind.
"Lady Berthe, you must get some rest." she offered.
"Yes, you're right." the woman replied, holding hands with the midwife as she is taken to her room.
Later that night, Claude returned with some food, giving it to the midwife as she cooked the late supper. With very few that he bought, the meal had to be something that could last for a while before it goes bad. Even if the quality is high from a low quantity, the family hoped it would be enough.
And so, the fall season passes so easily. As the bright autumn leaves fall to the ground, tiny snowflakes would begin to fall. During this cold month, everyone was busy keeping their house warm with fire. With matchsticks, it was much easier for the couple to have warmth. But perhaps this cold month might make business go well. Sadly, Claude was mistaken. It was worse than the other seasons. The rich would either ignored him or were too preoccupied to spare him time. As for the poor, they rather save their money for food, not warmth.
Frustrated, the man left the street and tried another. Now these days, he would come home less often, having stayed out in the cold. Back in the Matchstick Shop, Berthe grew more and more lonely. She was deteriorating in physical strength as well as mentality. Though she is aware that her husband is out selling, other thoughts crosses her mind. Thoughts that were not her own.
"Maybe he forsaken you."
'No! He would never.'
"Why else would he come home so late at night?"
'What are you insinuating?'
"Oh, perhaps he has some mistress to attain to."
'He would never be unfaithful to me!'
"Are you sure? Because you don't sound sure yourself." the voice taunted. "Besides, even if he isn't, I know that you'll be disappointed if he isn't around to see you give birth to his child. To you, that's almost like betraying you, isn't it?"
'Shut up!'
"I wonder if he doesn't come, would you still love him? Or, will you allow yourself to give into that desire of yours?"
'What are you talking about?!'
"That self restraint of your lust... It's very small, like a flower bud. I'm sure that if he doesn't make it home in time, it will make the bud blossom. And when that time comes, I'll nurture it until lust replaces your broken love."
"LEAVE ME ALONE!" Berthe cried.
"Lady Berthe? Are you alright?! You were screaming, is something wrong?" the midwife questioned as the woman looked around.
"Huh? But..." she became confused.
"Lady Berthe?"
"No... It's nothing, never mind." she respond. Looking at her swollen stomach, she muttered quietly, "He'll come back."
Suddenly, a knock can can be heard from the door. Elated at the thought that her husband had returned, she ordered the midwife to open it. However, her smile faded when it revealed to be her mother-in-law, Louise. She was an old woman with white hair and blue eyes. Despite her age, she had insisted on visiting to see how her son and daughter-in-law was doing, especially when her grandchild could be born anytime now. Still, even with the old woman's company, it brought Berthe no joy. All she wanted was her husband to return.
Meanwhile, in the palace, King Oberon was in his bedroom, looking at himself in the mirror. He was taking many of his clothes and positioning them in front of himself to see if he'll try it. However, a dissatisfied frown spread on his face as he carelessly toss them aside. No, that one was too boring. He tried another. Ugh! This one was too bland! He toss it aside with the rest. Eventually, he was holding the last piece of his clothing in front of him.
"No, no, no! This will not do!" he muttered, throwing it on the floor. "Prime minister!"
"Yes, Your Majesty?" the man came into the room.
"I need new clothes! Get my best men and find the best clothes out there! New Years is approaching and I need to make my special appearance! I can't do that if I don't have new clothes!"
"But sire, we don't have the resources to buy more clothes. And besides, we need to save the treasury for other things. Egeskov is becoming more populated with the poor and needy." he tried to persuade the king.
"And their needs are far more important than me? I went over this, prime minister. I don't care! In fact, I don't give a damn about the people. As long as it doesn't concern me, to hell with them!" King Oberon cursed. "If the people aren't going to respect their king, then why should I?"
"Please, Your Majesty, try and reconsider-"
"Prime minister, you are on the verge of testing my patience. If you don't wish to experience my wrath, I suggest you do as I say."
"My apologies, Your Majesty. I beg for your forgiveness." the minister mumbled hastily, bowing before leaving his room.
"Hmph! The nerve of that man, questioning my authority." the king huffed, turning his sight towards the mirror.
However, upon looking at himself closely, he notice something. There was something wrong, really wrong. Was... Was that a... Wrinkle? And not just one, but many? Is he... Aging?
'No, no, no. Calm down. That babbling prime minister just made you upset. It's nothing to worry about.' he thought to himself.
Composing himself in a regal, proud manner, the king smiled arrogantly at his reflection. Seeing his dashing good looks, he was sure that what he saw earlier was just a trick of his mind. That is... Until he saw the wrinkles under his eyes.
Now staring deeply at the looking glass, he shirked, pulling away from the mirror, "Impossible! I cannot be growing old! I must be tired - that's it! I'm just tired!"
"That's right. You're just tired." a voice spoke soothingly.
"Yes, I'm just tired." Oberon insisted.
He didn't recognized that he was speaking to air or voicing his thoughts out loud. The voice took amusement from this, enjoyed making a fool out of the king. In a clear, feminine tone, the voice let out a childish giggle. Again, the king failed to notice it. Either he was too under the trance or he was dumb. Regardless, it just pushed the voice further.
"They say sleep can rejuvenate one's beauty. Why don't you go to sleep?" the voice offered.
Planting a kiss at the looking glass, the king sighed blissfully, "Farewell, my beautiful. When I wake up, I shall see you radiating far more than all the deities in the world!"
With that arrogant remark, Oberon climbed into bed, tucked himself under the cover, and began shutting his eyes. If he sleeps well, perhaps in the morning, he will see those terrible marks under his eyes gone. As the king slept, he failed to sense a presence in his room. A shadowy figured appeared until it formed into a beautiful young girl. However, anymore of her details were unknown. This girl was smiling, placing a finger towards her lips.
How she had fun toying with humans, especially arrogant ones like this foolish king. He was so easily influenced by her sloth magic. She turned to look at the mirror, but there was no reflection of the girl. With another smile, the girl turned her sight back at the king before disappearing. What a fun little place Denmark is. A quiet little island full of grief and suffering. It's no wonder that so much negativity has not only attracted dark magic, but also evil spirits too. And very soon, this island will be badly stirred.
Well, she would loved to stay, but she wanted to find a host. Her siblings have, so she will too. Dissipating into minty blue mist, the spirit left through the window, carried by the wind in search for her host.
It was now the 28th - a new day - and her husband has yet to return. Berthe could barely sleep and just when she was about to doze off, she was rudely awakened by a sharp pain. Realizing the immediate situation, the woman called out to the midwife and her mother-in-law before screaming in agony. It hurts, it hurts so much!
"Mother!" Berthe cried out to Louise as the old woman began preparing.
She was lighting the candles while the midwife quickly grabbed the towels and a bowl of cool water. They will need to make the mother be as comfortable as possible.
"Just calm down, Berthe." Louise instructed, "Take deep breaths."
"I-I... AHH!" she screamed, gripping at the bed sheets. "I can't..."
She started to hyperventilate as the midwife wiped the woman of her sweats, "It's okay, Lady Berthe. Take deep breaths."
"Where... Where is Claude?" she questioned, trying to do what was instructed of her.
"He'll be arriving soon." Louise assured, though honestly, she didn't know.
Berthe began to feel this unbearable, indescribable pain of labor. She grabbed tightly of her mother-in-law's hands as the midwife told her to push. As she screamed in pain, her mind constantly questioned the whereabouts of her husband. Is he not going to come? How could he? Why isn't he here when she needed him the most?
"AAAH!" she cried out loud. "Ugh...!"
It took a lot of effort, but finally her cries was accompanied with the cries of her child. Taking the baby out properly, the midwife began wrapping the newborn in a towel before giving it to its mother as she wiped and dabbed the woman's forehead with a cool cloth.
Suddenly, the door opened and came in Claude. He had noticed the changes made in the room and realized that the labor was over. He dashed in as everyone looked at him. Seeing that slight sadness in his wife's face, his eyes drifted to the child in her arms.
"What do I have?" he asked.
"A girl." Berthe answered reluctantly.
"Can I hold her?" he inquired.
His wife gave him a questioning look, one that bothered him. He was out in the streets for so long, he had lost track of time. Nevertheless, she let out a small sigh before giving her daughter to him. With the baby in his arms, he took a closer look at the product between his and Berthe's love. She was just born and already have a clump of blonde hair, much like his. When the child opened her eyes, she revealed to have the same blue orbs as her mother. She has both their traits. Had she had her mother's hair color, with time, she could grow up to be a spitting image.
"Son, can I hold her?" Louise questioned as Claude nodded and passed his daughter onto his mother. "What are you going to name her, Berthe?"
Looking at the girl in her mother-in-law's arms, the mother only has one answer, "Giselle. Her name is going to be Giselle."
1) Since Giselle is a French name, I considered having her mother and father having French names too.
2) Claude is French for limping.
3) Berthe is French for Bright. I named Giselle's mother from the ballet.
4) The Emperor's New Clothes was published in April 7th 1837, so I decided to have King Oberon's birthday be on April 13th.
5) Um... Wow, this is actually the first time I was detailed in a character's birth. Not enough to be considered graphic, but still detailed. I'm not sure if I should be proud of that or not.
6) The Little Match Girl was published in December 1845, so I decided to give Giselle's birthday on December 28, between Christmas and New Years.
7) You didn't read wrong and it wasn't a typo. I decided to make Giselle be born with blonde hair first. Why? I was intrigued with BT's concept art of her. They started her off with blonde hair, so I'm going to have an interesting storytelling with that.
How did I do on King Oberon? Did I make him dislikable? Do you guys hate him? I tried making him narcissist as possible. It's funny. He thinks he is the most beautiful, but we have a long line of princesses, princes, and others who are far more beautiful than him, in appearance and in personality.
What about the other characters? Specifically Giselle's mother and father? See you next time.