(Note: I gave the Peppermint Girl and Gingerbread Boy the names Pepper and Gillis, because I can let the names Major Mint and Captain Candy slide, but Peppermint Girl and Gingerbread Boy are too much. So they're getting real names.)
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Clara walked briskly down the castle corridors, tying back a few pieces of her hair with a ribbon so that none of it swept into her face, though it continued to cascade down her back. It was an early spring morning, and most of the castle windows were open, filling the place with a crisp freshness that Clara breathed in happily.
She, Eric, and Captain Candy were to lead a basket donation this afternoon. It was hardly a new event; they had been doing it for almost a year now, after Eric and Clara and thought of it during one of their late-night discussions in the library. Every month, they would go to a different village in the kingdom with wagons full of baskets and donate them to the people there. The baskets were packed with simple – but very much needed – items such as clothes, food, and medical supplies.
Even though it had been over a year since his defeat, many of the villages still suffered from the damage done by the Mouse King. Their homes were being rebuilt, but slowly, thus forcing some villagers to live together in cramped houses or face homelessness. Eric and Clara did what they could, working hard to continually direct finances towards the rebuilding and replenishing of villages, but it was a long process. And so they donated baskets, in hopes that it would offer some relief to those in need.
Servants had been working throughout the morning to fill the wagons, and Clara and Eric were to depart soon for the Gingerbread Village. If only she could find him. He had wandered off with Captain Candy after breakfast, and she hadn't seen them since. But she had an idea where they might have gone.
Rounding a corner in the hall, she stopped in front of the main library's doors. She pressed her lips together, hoping her hunch was right as she pushed them open.
Captain Candy sat in a large armchair, looking relaxed yet still formal with his legs crossed in front of him. On the sofa opposite of the chair was Eric, who was casually slouched sideways, his long legs draping over one armrest while he leaned against the other. Captain Candy said something too quiet for Clara to hear properly, though she was able to pick up Major Mint's name being spoken. Eric threw back his head and laughed loudly in response to whatever was said.
"Well!" Clara exclaimed as she approached. "I do hope you two aren't planning to do anything devious to poor Major Mint. His nerves are already so fragile." She looked pointedly at her husband. "No thanks to you, dear. The major has been more than generous in his share of stories he's told me about you as a boy." She crossed her arms. "And it sounds like you were an absolute nightmare during his lessons."
Eric gave a rather roguish grin. "Not at all," he said innocently. "I've always been nothing but respectful to the major."
Captain Candy snorted.
"I'm sure," Clara said sarcastically. She placed one hand on her hip. "Well then, are we going? Or would you rather sit here and chat the day away?"
Eric swung his legs down to the floor and stood. "And let you go by yourself? We can't do that." He went to his wife and took her arm. "Besides, if we stayed here, the major would probably find us. And then we'd never leave the library, trapped by one of his rants."
Captain Candy nodded. "Once he kept us here for nearly two hours."
"How perfectly dreadful," said Clara mockingly. "Perhaps you two could learn something from him. He does have some wisdom worth heeding, you know."
Eric raised his finger and gave it a single wave. "Some being that key word."
"You are both terrible," Clara said.
Eric chuckled. "Yes, I suppose we are. Don't worry, the major is safe from any mischief from us. For now."
Clara sighed and pulled her husband towards the library doors. "Come along, the both of you, before any more ideas enter either of your heads."
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The notion of Eric once being a hated prince was a difficult one for Clara to grasp. As they monitored the distributing of baskets to the villagers lined up in the main courtyard of the Gingerbread Village, most of the people who approached Eric did so with great respect and admiration. Many thanked him for what he was doing, some even comparing him to his father. That particular correlation made Eric's face brighten immensely, and he would become slightly flustered with whoever paid the compliment. One elderly plump lady was particularly motherly and affectionate with him, to the point that Clara finally had to intervene before Eric was taken back to the woman's house and fed her apparently famous lemon cakes.
The hours went by easily, as the atmosphere of the courtyard was lightened by the chattering of eager villagers. There were a few solemn faces, and Clara took special care to ask them if there were any other needs they had.
The sun slowly crept its way across the sky; it would not be long before it began its descent. But Clara wasn't worried as, gradually, the line was shortening, and they still had plenty of baskets.
"You! You're the cause of all this!"
Eric and Clara turned at the sudden shout. A middle-aged man was striding forward, fury etched into his weathered features as he glared at Eric. He wore clothes that were faded and heavily patched, and his graying hair hung unevenly about his shoulders. He was leading a thin girl by the hand who looked just as tattered and filthy as him, with bare feet that stumbled unevenly over the ground as she struggled to keep up.
Two guards immediately stepped forward, swords drawn as they shielded their king and queen from the man. A third guard moved forward and grabbed the man's arm, yanking him back.
"Stop!" commanded Eric. "Do not harm him."
Though he looked like he wanted to object, the guard obediently loosened his grip. The villager ripped his arm free and pointed it accusingly at Eric. "This is all because of you," he snarled. "My farm was destroyed by the Mouse King's army, and now we wander homeless. My wife died from an illness brought on by lacking proper shelter. My children are starving. It's all because of you! You good-for-nothing spoiled brat!" He spit, the gob landing at Eric's feet. "You think that you know what suffering is, because the Mouse put a curse on you. But even that was remedied, and now you live as before, with no consequences for your past actions."
"He fought for you," Clara said viciously. "He did not abandon his kingdom, though he easily could have. He nearly died to rid this land of the Mouse King. Even now, he labors tirelessly to repair the damages done by the Mouse. What more do you want from him?"
"You are a foreigner," sneered the man. "You know nothing about this land, nor what we had endured before you took a prince for a husband, living in finery with him."
"You would do well to speak to your queen with respect," snapped Eric. He curled his hands into fists. "I know that I've made mistakes. Terrible, terrible mistakes. Yes, I am the reason the Mouse King was given so much power to begin with. All the destruction he caused is because of me. I am not ignorant to these facts, and I will forever carry that weight of regret. But I am trying to be the man I should have been before. I am doing what I can here, among you." He let out a heavy breath. "I am sorry that you had to endure such suffering. Whatever you need, we will gladly provide."
"I don't want the gifts you give out of guilt," growled the man. "I want you to endure what we were forced to suffer. To truly understand what we have lost." He gritted his teeth. "If the Mouse King had simply killed you instead of wasting his time with silly spells, it would have been a fate justly deserved!"
Clara stepped forward furiously, but Eric caught her. His jaw tightened. "If you wish to collect a basket of supplies, do so," he said coldly. "Otherwise, there is no further reason for you to be here."
The man stood rigid with anger, his grip tightening on his daughter. She winced, tugging weakly to try and loosen her hand. Her movements broke her father's attention on Eric, and he glanced down, his face softening with sorrow as he looked at her. Then he whirled about and strode off, pulling his daughter after him.
There was a long moment of stunned silence. The surrounding villagers stared at Eric, who gazed stonily in the direction the man had left. Gently, Clara placed a hand on his arm.
"Eric?" she said softly.
Eric swiftly turned away, shrugging off Clara as he strode back to the wagon. Ignoring the wide-eyed onlookers, Eric gestured to Captain Candy to hand him another basket.
Clara waved for those in line to come forward, hoping to diffuse the tension. "We still have plenty of baskets!" she called out. "There is enough for everyone."
Gradually, as the villagers began talking amongst themselves again, the uneasy air dissipated. As the afternoon dipped into twilight, baskets continued to be handed out, and many villagers made an effort to express their honest gratitude to Eric and Clara. Eric was friendly enough as he talked to them, but Clara noticed the stiffness in his shoulders, and the faint tremor of his hands as he passed out supplies. When there was an opportunity to do so inconspicuously, she grabbed his hand and gave it a quick squeeze. He returned the pressure, but not as fervently as usual.
By the time the sun was touching the horizon, most of the villagers had gone home. A few stragglers remained, either to claim their baskets, or to simply enjoy the cool spring evening. At the edge of the square, two men sat on a brick wall; one played a flute, and the other a lute. Their music lifted the atmosphere to a calmly cheerful mood, and a few children skipped over the pavestones with cries of laughter as they spun in dancing circles.
"Eric! Clara!" called out a young boy's voice.
Eric and Clara looked up to watch two children race across the square towards them, excited grins on their faces. They were instantly recognizable by their vividly colored outfits: the girl in a dress of pink and white peppermint stripes, and her brother in a ginger-colored jacket with white trim.
"Pepper, Gillis!" cried Clara happily. She opened her arms, and they ran into her embrace. "How are you, dears?"
"Swell!" exclaimed Pepper. She tilted her head up in a dignified manner. "Mama is allowing me to help in the bakery now."
"How wonderful!" Clara smiled at the mention of their mother, whom Eric had helped the children reunite with during his first weeks as king. "I'm sure you make the best pastries in the entire village."
Gillis pulled away from Clara and grasped Eric's hand, tugging on it excitedly. "I'm learning to ride Marzipan, Eric!" he said proudly.
"Well now, that is impressive!" grinned Eric. "She's a stubborn horse, but I have no doubt that you can handle her."
Clara let out a relieved breath; Eric had immediately softened in the presence of the siblings, and as he conversed with them, she could see his body noticeably relaxing.
Pepper smacked her brother's arm. "You can't call him that," she said matter-of-factly. "He's the king now! You have to call him Your Majesty." She stuck her chin in the air, proud of herself for remembering the correct title with which to address Eric.
Clara smiled at the girl's efforts to act like a grown lady, her thoughts flickering back to when she had – sometimes as haughtily as Pepper – reprimanded her own brother.
Eric chuckled and bent closer to the siblings. "I'll tell you what," he whispered dramatically. "Since you both helped Clara and I save Parthenia, I'd say that makes you extra special. So you two can call us Clara and Eric."
Gillis nodded victoriously at his sister. Pepper looked slightly awed by the suggestion. "Are you sure?" she asked.
Eric affectionately tapped his finger on her nose. "Of course."
A faint blush blossomed on Pepper's cheeks. "Okay," she muttered with a smile.
Clara reached for one of the leftover baskets on the ground near the wagon. "Here, you two," she said, holding it out.
"Oh, we didn't come for that," said Gillis. "Mama told us to refuse it. We have the bakery, so Mama says to give the basket to someone who needs it more."
"Are you sure?" asked Clara.
Pepper nodded. "Though, we did bring something for you!" She reached for a small basket that was dangling from the crook of her arm. Digging beneath the cloth that had been draped over it, she pulled out a paper box tied with a pink ribbon. "They're peppermint and gingerbread cookies," she said, holding it out. "I helped bake them with Mama."
"Why, thank you!" Clara exclaimed. She took the box with a smile. "I'm sure they will be delicious."
Pepper looked pleased as she readjusted the cloth over her basket. "We should head back home," she said. "But we wanted to be sure to say hello."
"We're glad you did," said Eric.
Pepper smiled shyly, then grabbed Gillis' arm. "Bye!" she called as she dragged her brother away. Gillis waved enthusiastically, and then they disappeared down a small street.
Clara looked at Eric with a warm smile. He returned it, but the expression didn't quite reach his eyes. Sobering, Clara laced her fingers through his.
"We should be heading back," said Captain Candy as he walked towards them. "It's getting late."
Eric nodded, and busied himself with loading the leftover baskets into the wagon. Clara exchanged a worried glance with Captain Candy, but neither of them bothered Eric as they prepared to leave.
By the time they arrived back at the castle, night had fallen. The horses and wagons were left with the stable hands, and everyone else departed for bed.
"Eric, do you want to talk about what happened?" asked Clara.
They were back in their bedchamber. A fire had been lit by the servants before they had arrived, and it crackled comfortingly now, easing the silence. Clara stood in the doorway connecting to the washroom, barefoot and dressed in a lilac nightgown.
Still in his day clothes, Eric sat in a chair placed before one of the windows in their room. His elbow was propped up on the armrest and he rested his chin in his hand, a disturbed thoughtfulness in his eyes.
"Eric?" repeated Clara.
Eric made no sign that he had heard her.
Clara's eyebrows twitched together in concern. She quietly crossed the room and knelt in front of the chair so that she was gazing up into his face. "It was the angry ramblings of a hungry man," she said gently. "You offered him food, and he refused. What he said –"
"What he said was true," Eric said. His tone was sharp, but Clara knew it wasn't directed at her. "Every word of it." He lowered his hand with a frustrated sigh. "What happened to them is my fault. If I hadn't been such…such a selfish idiot, Father wouldn't have unknowingly given his power to a raging murderer." When he spoke next, there was a tremor to his voice. "I'm…I'm trying to make amends, Clara."
"I know you are," said Clara ardently. She took Eric's face in both hands. "Darling, I know it. Parthenia knows it. That man is not the majority of your people."
"But he's still part of my people. That makes me responsible for him, and his family."
Clara sighed. "We will find out who he is," she said diplomatically. "And we will see what we can do to help him."
Eric bit his lip, the distress on his face still evident. Clara pulled Eric to her, embracing him as he pressed his face into the crook of her shoulder.
"We'll make it right," she whispered. "You already have done so much. Don't let guilt of past actions hinder the wonderful things you're doing now."
He did not reply.
She held him close that night, desperate to show him how much he was loved. Eventually they fell into an uneasy sleep, with past memories plaguing his thoughts and current worries shadowing hers.
