It was still Baileywick's birthday on a technicality: An hour remained before the clock struck midnight. It had been a busy day of both service and surprises. Though he was tired, he decided to stay awake this last hour. After all, it would be a shame to miss any of his birthday.
He climbed the stairs to his room, his mind's eye leafing over the books on his shelf and choosing a few to read. As for drink, his favorite sparkling grape juice would do nicely, poured in his favorite goblet.
Such quiet was not to be. "Surprise!" Cedric shouted from within his room, and Baileywick was indeed surprised, and more delighted than he cared to admit. He had long admired the quirky but endearing sorcerer, fascinated by his exciting command of magic, or perhaps something about Cedric himself. Surely professional interest, he mused. As the illustrious Castle Steward with a host of important duties, he himself had no time for idle pursuits.
In any case, the visit from his colleague was a welcome way to spend the evening (and the last hour of his birthday). The first thing he noticed was the red ball perched on the tip of Cedric's nose. The next was the color: his robe was transformed into a blinding rainbow, and his hair turned lime green to match.
"Good heavens, Cedric. What's this? Are you a clown?" Baileywick exclaimed in very dignified surprise.
"Why yes! The most festive clown for your birthday, here to grant you a birthday gift!" Cedric waved his wand around his head, and party horns sounded on all sides while confetti streamed from the ceiling.
Baileywick sighed wearily, looking around at the mess. "Thank you. Do keep it down though, will you? It's quite late, and I'm in for a quiet night. And..." he trailed off, arranging his words carefully. "Could you find something... dimmer... to wear?"
"If that's what you want." Cedric tried not to look disappointed as he waved his wand, and the confetti vanished. Baileywick slumped in relief: Confetti was near-impossible to clean. When he looked back up, Cedric's hair was back to its usual black.
His robe had changed from its usual deep purple to Baileywick's black and lavender, his bowtie growing more orange than yellow. Baileywick stared: the colors looked vivid on Cedric. His eye traveled down the robe and up again.
Seeing his gaze, Cedric smiled proudly. "I thought this would still be special," he explained. "To honor the best steward I know."
"You don't know very many," Baileywick chided, willing his pleased blush away. "Nonetheless, I appreciate your words. Though I should perhaps like to see the full costume."
"That can be arranged." In a flash, Cedric's flowing robe was replaced with Baileywick's fitted uniform, with one surprising difference.
"Dear me," Baileywick said, mustering every ounce of his professionalism. "Your tights appear to be... ah, rather tight."
Cedric looked down at himself, and instantly flushed red as a strawberry. "Oh dear, it's my courage concoction," he explained. "I just get so nervous when anyone's watching. The concoction helps me with my spells, and my robe conceals the... side effects."
"Fair enough," Baileywick agreed. "Though seeing as you're wearing my uniform, now I should quite like to try yours."
Cedric nodded, grateful for the distraction, and a moment later, Baileywick was wearing the flowing velvet robe, a yellow bow hugging his throat. It was unexpectedly fragrant. He sniffed the collar, inhaling the scent of apple spice and pine needles. "What is this enchanting fragrance?" he asked.
The question seemed to unnerve Cedric. "I can't believe I've forgotten," he said after a moment. "That's the courage concoction I mentioned—It's a perfume you wear on your collar. I'd forgotten that it's charmed into all my robes."
Baileywick breathed deeply. He did seem to feel bolder. Impulsively, he twirled in a perfect pirouette, watching the robe billow around him. The night air, cool on his bare legs, rushed up to tickle him. Startled, he stopped twirling. The fabric fell back in place, flowing softly over him and making him shiver. His hand involuntarily moved towards the opening in the robe; firmly, he stopped himself and imprisoned both hands behind his back.
Cedric cleared his throat. "So. What is your birthday wish?"
The seconds passed while Baileywick thought. In the castle, he had all the material things he could ever wish for. The King and Queen were kind to him, and his job benefits were solid. He had good company, good friends, and a good life. Yet watching over the Royal Household, there was one thing he lacked. One thing he yearned for.
"I would like to—to sit with you and share in ice cream and sparkling grape juice with you." Sort of a roundabout opening, but it would do. "And after, I would like to converse, and..." The words were stalling out. "More courage, please," he interrupted himself.
Obligingly, Cedric waved his wand, and the apple-and-pine scent became almost pungent. Baileywick took several deep breaths, letting boldness course through him, an electrifying current. He balled his hands into fists.
"I should very much like to kiss you," he declared.
Cedric blushed to the tips of his ears and the end of his nose. "And I would like to accept. Though my unwelcome feelings may get in the way. You see, Baileywick, I admire you, I really do. You have always been kind. You have always been loyal. So if it's a kiss you want... you'd best take it from someone capable of leaving after."
"And why would you have to leave after?" Baileywick had been wilting throughout the speech, but he perked up at the end. He crossed the room in three great strides and took Cedric's hand, slowly, carefully, being careful not to startle his nervous companion. Their noses bumped as their lips pressed together, first hesitantly, and then tenderly.
Cedric pulled back, trembling. "I don't know what to do with myself," he confessed.
"That's quite all right," Baileywick said. "We can stop here tonight. Will you come see me tomorrow, even if it's not my birthday?"
"I—Yes, I will," Cedric murmured, chuckling slightly. The sight of his shy smile made Baileywick's insides flutter, and he thought that his life might be perfect.
Almost. The moment Cedric left, Baileywick settled onto his bed, his reading list forgotten. He'd needed that last burst of courage, and now he was feeling the side effects of the overpowering dose. The loose robe was tented painfully. He palmed the lovely velvet, his breath hitching as the fabric shifted, flowing smooth and cool.
"How will I ever put on those tights again?" He wondered out loud, panting.
The next stroke make him stifle a moan, and he was mightily grateful for the thick stone walls and plush tapestries hung about his room that would trap his cries within. He shoved a handful of the velvet into his mouth, biting down on it to keep from moaning. The fabric was becoming too warm. He threw open the robe, gasping as the cool air hit his skin.
He lay still, catching his breath. His eye fell on the fabric. Belatedly, he jumped up and rinsed it off, then hung it up to dry.
He returned to his bed and poured a small glass of grape juice.
The clock read 11:59 PM. "This was the best birthday," he sighed, raising his glass.
The next day, he did in fact pull his tights back on, the waistcoat impeccable and the tailcoat smartly buttoned. Feeling daring, he paired it with a particular dandelion scarf instead of his usual lavender one. The faintest hint of apple spice and pine sap still lingered on it. Allowing himself a single moment of impropriety, he buried his nose in it and inhaled deeply.
People and animals came awake around him. He smiled to himself, knowing that after a lifetime in its service, the castle he called home would still have more surprises to reveal.
