The next day rolled around all too fast, and Santana stifled a yawn, looking around for the hundredth time, scanning the crowd for a certain head of blonde hair and bright blue eyes. Once again her search was fruitless, and she turned back to her horse, Snow, who was being brushed down by some of the Palace stable hands, his spotless saddle gleaming in the midday sun.
The palace grounds were packed with high class ladies and gentlemen, all dressed in their finest outdoor attire, eager to see their Princess, and future Queen, compete.
Princess Tina of Asia was just finishing her display. She mastered her large chestnut horse easily, poised elegantly in the saddle, completing the complex moves with seeming ease. Un-phased by the performance, Santana shoed her servants away, and with one final scan of the crowd swung herself easily up onto Snow's strong back.
From behind a large oak Brittany's breath caught in her throat. The Princess's tailored riding pants and jacket showed off her slender athletic form perfectly, as she jumped nimbly into the saddle of the most beautiful white Arabian horse Brittany had ever seen in her life. As Santana eased her horse forwards to a walk and headed to the competition ring to begin her warm up, the blonde took a subconscious step forwards, eager to follow her, however after noticing Jesse and the Marquis standing close to the rails of the ring, she quickly edged back to the cover of the tree, eager not to be spotted.
By the time Santana had her horse working in at an easy trot, Brittany had decided that observing her beauty between a sea of constantly moving heads would simply not do, and had clambered up the tree perching herself at a perfect vantage point to see both horse and rider.
The Princess's horse was absolutely breath taking. First and foremost Brittany would always love coal, but the feisty Arab covered the ground effortlessly, it's big flashy paces making it look to be merely gliding over the grassed lawn, it's silky white main and tail billowing out as it moved. She then let her eyes move to the Princess, the beautiful Latina sat proud atop her mount, Brittany realised there was something strangely beautiful about the way her caramel skin stood starker against the bright white of her horse's coat, and for a second let herself ponder whether that same beauty could be found in the tangle of her own creamy pale limbs with the darker ones of the Royal.
Again Princess Santana scanned the crowd, desperate to catch a glimpse of blonde and a flash of blue, anything that might indicate that the lady Brittany had taken her up on her invitation to the event. Distracted she failed to notice the small boy who had slipped from his mother's grasp and ran underneath the railings and into the arena. Luckily Snow was a little more alert, and skillfully lurched, dodging the child, but unseating his mistress in the process, who still distracted, was thrown off over the side of the saddle, landing flat on her back close to where the boy stood, with a resounding 'oomph' as the air was knocked from her body.
It was almost as if Brittany herself had felt the blow with which Santana hit the ground. The crowd fell silent, and Brittany felt her heart in her mouth and was vaguely aware she had stopped breathing, as she stared in horror at the motionless form of the Princess crumpled on the turf. When the other woman finally moved, lifting her head, before pulling herself into a sitting position and bending double to catch her breath, Brittany felt a tsunami of relief wash through her body, and without a second thought for what she was doing, began scrambling down the tree.
As her feet touched back down to the ground Brittany peered through the gathered spectators and her stomach gave a sickly little lurch at what she saw. There in the arena helping the fallen Princess up was Jesse, who she assumed must have dashed over from his position against the railings. Scanning the crowd Brittany also noticed her stepmother, and paused to watch as Terry slipped something into the palm of a woman who looked to be of lower class, who was now holding onto the little boys hand, the same boy who had mysteriously found his way onto the turf and caused Santana to have an accident.
As the dots were connected, a feeling Brittany experienced very rarely in her life began to swell in her chest - anger. As she looked back over the see Jesse helping Princess Santana brush down her dirty jersey and breaches, a charmingly fake smile plastered on his smug face, the anger only grew until it was white hot and threatening to overwhelm her. With one final glance at the Latina Princess, who was swinging herself back astride her horse, giving him a reassuring pat, Brittany did the only thing she could think to do...she ran.
Before Brittany realised where she was going she was at the market, of course, her brain on autopilot had taken her back to where she was actually supposed to be - selling fresh produce from the manor grounds on a little stall with Emma and Molly, at the palace market place.
Still shaking with rage, for what the Marquis and Jesse had done, how they had almost hurt the Princess, Brittany quickly greeted her friends, then busied herself cleaning off some freshly pulled carrots.
"Whatever is the matter child?" Molly questioned, noticing the sudden change in Brittany's usually sunny demeanor. "My step-mother is despicable!" The blonde answered plainly, continuing to scrub at the vegetables angrily.
"Never a truer word was spoken" Emma agreed, and the two serving woman shared a look, silently communicating that it was perhaps best to leave Brittany to her own thoughts for now, whatever the Marquis had done, it clearly involved her Royal Highness the Princess Santana, and both woman were aware of what a frequent and enjoyable topic of conversation she had become of late for the young blonde, so they said nothing and simply continued on with their work.
Their companionable silence however, was soon interrupted by the obnoxious clatter of newly heeled boots on the cobbled ground, Brittany looked up and felt her heart drop even further in her chest, approaching the stall with a disgustingly leery smile was local Baron Ken Tanaka. On noticing the slightly over weight and very greasy looking middle aged man, Emma and Molly instantly stiffened and moved to stand by Brittany's side.
"You grow more beautiful every week we meet Miss Brittany" Tanaka purred out, wetting his dry scaly lips as he leaned towards the blonde, who instantly recoiled from the proximity. "Child I know I am twice your age, but I can give you things that you can now only dream of, clothe you well" he continued, waving a hand at Brittany's dirty server's dress, "All I ask in return is that you" he paused, his beady eyes flashing suggestively, "take care of my needs" he crowed. Brittany felt her stomach lurch and physical wave of nausea washed over her. "And I'm sure of course your father left you with a handsome dowry" he added as an after thought.
"Not on your life" Brittany finally managed, Emma and Molly nodded in agreement by her side.
The Baron seemed to consider this for a moment, "Very well" he replied, his eyes full of cunning, "I shall not be purchasing anything from your sorry little stall this week in light of your impertinence. You'd do well to remember that without my custom your pathetic excuse for a manor would be in even worse disrepair than it already is. Perhaps you'll reconsider my offer..." He gave Brittany one last look up and down, then with a nod of approval turn on his heel, his servants skittering after him carrying the many basket's of purchases he'd already made that day.
"What a horrible, horrible man!" Emma exclaimed at the Baron's retreating back, "If he didn't buy a cart-load of vegetables every week, I'd...I'd" she searched for the words, "I'd tell him where he could take his greasy filthy hands and stick them!" She finally managed, her eyes growing wide at her own declaration, her complexion glowing beet red.
Molly nodded her agreement, giving the other woman a reassuring pat on the shoulder and Brittany a tense but kind smile, as they all set back to work.
Princess Santana handed a large, perfectly polished solid silver trophy off to one of her stable hands, and gave Snow a final pat before making her way back across the grounds to head towards the palace. Ever since she was a small child the princess had been competitive, and she loved to win, however some thing about this particular victory left a bittersweet taste in her mouth. Though she hastened to admit it, the princess was more than a little disappointed that the beautiful Brittany Susan Von Gent had not managed to make an appearance.
Walking with her head down Santana did not notice the trio of figures moving towards her until it was too late to dodge them without seeming rude.
"Your highness" Jesse greeted her, bowing low, as the Marquis and Lauren curtseyed behind him. Santana forced a smile as best she could, since meeting the young man and his Mother the princess had been all too aware of the way they both looked at her, the same way a greedy merchant might perhaps survey a fine piece of jewelry at an auction house. "Good afternoon" she greeted them all, trying to keep the displeasure from colouring her tone.
"I simply wished to ensure you were alright after your earlier tumble?" Jesse enquired, his voice sickly sweet, his eyes full of false concern, the woman before him representing little more than his passage to the throne of the Kingdom.
"I am feeling perfectly fine, though I must thank you for your help" Santana replied, forcing herself to make eye contact with him.
"In that case" Jesse paused, unleashing a full grin with teeth that one could imagine was somehow intended to be charming, "I hoped that perhaps you might accompany me to the Market place for a short walk?" When the Princess looked unsure he quickly spoke up again, "It may well help you walk off some of the stiffness from your fall, and I would like to be completely certain that you are totally unharmed…It would be the gentlemanly thing to do."
The last part of his reasoning tied Santana's hands, and as much as she wanted to brush him off and walk the other way, back to the palace, to her room, to sit alone in her study and think Brittany, and plan ways in which she might see her, or better yet make her plan to wed her come into being, she knew that her Royal obligations meant she was hard pressed to refuse one of her citizens attempts to be 'gentlemanly'.
"Very well" the Latina finally conceded, stepping back to allow Jesse to lead the way, carefully keeping an arms length between them at all times. The way his mother and sister floated along after them made her slightly uncomfortable, but for the sake of politeness she merely followed him towards the market, nodding and making interesting sounds as he talked about topics that bore absolutely no interest to her.
As they reached the market Jesse rushed her excitedly towards one of the smaller stalls. Santana barely heard what he was saying, as she noticed Noah Puckerman, one of her guards following them a few paces back, his eyes trained without a shred of uncertainty of the vast expanse of Lauren's backside. The princess smirked to herself, as he met her eyes, all to aware he had been caught, and being the confident fool he was, simply gave her a lopsided grin.
"And this is our stall, and these are our servants!" Jesse exclaimed proudly, as if he was presenting more than just a small fruit and vegetable stand, but all the same Santana tried to smile politely at two middle-aged woman, who were staring back at her with wide eyes, looking slightly shocked.
Brittany finished her work cleaning one of the hen cages below the wooden stand full of vegetables, and picked up the hen. She was about to place the animal safely back on it's roost when she heard voices above her and quickly stood up to see if there was a customer she could help with. What she saw sent her into a state of disbelief. There at the front of the stall was the Princess.
Santana had changed out of her riding attire, and was back in her formal royal garments. Her raven hair hung in loose waves around her shoulders, her complexion, slightly rosy from the exertion of her competition, was complemented beautifully by the flowing red and gold frock, that pinched her in at her already tiny waist and billowed out around her feet.
All this appraisal happened in a microsecond, before Brittany actually took stock of the situation. As brown eyes began to move in her direction, in blind panic, Brittany thrust the hen forward out of her hands and directly towards the princess. In the commotion of a flying hen, all squawks and feathers, nobody noticed Brittany quickly duck down behind the stall front, tucking herself in between the hen coops and wooden beams that held it upright, Emma quickly stepping up behind her, and using her skirts to cover her just incase.
As order was restored and the hen caught, Molly quickly putting it back in it's coop, the Marquis stormed over to the servants. "Are you trying to give the princess a heart attack?" she questioned, her eyes flashing with rage.
"No M'Lady" Emma and Molly chorused together, both breathing a silent sigh of relief that Brittany had not been spotted by the princess, and exposed.
Before the Marquis could go on, a rather disgruntled looking Santana rubbed her eyes and stepped back towards the stall. "There are just the two of you here?" she questioned, leaning to look behind the woman with dubious eyes.
"Yes your majesty" Emma replied, holding her face straight and trying not to think of the consequences of lying to a royal.
"Us and the chicken" Molly added helpfully.
"I thought I saw…" the princess trailed off, "Never mind" she finally finished, looking somewhat downfallen.
When the little group finally drifted away, the Marquis shooting her servants one last dirty look, Emma and Molly helped Brittany out from under the stall. All three of them shared their relief that the girl had not been caught, as it was common knowledge that the punishment for dressing above ones class was severe, not to mention giving a false name to a noble.
Brittany thanked her friends heartily, both of them had risked themselves by lying to the Princess for her. Going back to her chores, she wondered to herself how long this dangerous game she was playing could continue for. Her heart fell, as she finally opened it to the fact that there could be no future, not for someone like her and someone like Princess Santana, in their world that kind of love just did not exist.
Sadly Brittany continued her duties, trying to think of anything but haunting eyes the colour of black coffee in the afternoon sun, and perfect olive skin, with the tiniest hint of a red glow…. And failed.
Later that evening, Brittany had been in a daze all afternoon, swinging between fantasizing about Princess Santana, and chastising herself for doing so, as well as putting not just herself but also her friends, who had been forced to cover for her, in danger. The more Brittany let herself remember the soft curves of the Princess's body, the way her long dark hair hung in silky waves down to her waist, the more she wanted her; and the more she wanted her the more she chastised herself for being so selfish, and so utterly foolish to believe a woman such as Princess Santana could ever be interested in a mere servant like herself.
The cycle of daydreaming followed by guilt, followed by more daydreaming was both relentless and exhausting, and as Brittany stoked the fire place in the Marquis's room she fought to quiet her restless mind.
The Marquis who was lounging on her four poster bed, let out a contented sign, "Can you imagine, Christmas in Venice..." She muttered dreamily.
Brittany didn't need to ask to realise that she was talking about life if, or as she believed, when, Jesse became King.
"No, I don't suppose you can" Terry added cruelly, her sharp green eyes flitting back to Brittany. The blonde finished her work on the fire, and turn uncertainly to face her step-mother.
"Come here child" the older woman crowed, surveying Brittany with a critical eye as she did as she was asked. When the young blonde was stood before her, the Marquis seemed to consider her carefully before she spoke again, "I see so much of your father in you" she murmured, both her words and the tone of her voice, which was a few octaves softer than Brittany had ever heard it, catching her off guard. "I suppose there must be something of your mother in there too" Terry added.
Feeling unusual comfortable after the unusual niceties being bestowed upon her Brittany spoke up, and dared to voice one of her deepest most personal desires, "I wish I knew what she looked like...my mother" she admitted, her voice barely a whisper. Tentatively she looked up at Terry, waiting for a reply. Brittany could have swore she saw the slightest of softness flicker on the older woman's face, before it returned to it's mask of hardness, all emotion falling away. "It never does to feel sorry for ones self" the Marquis chided her sternly.
"No M'Lady" Brittany agreed reluctantly, trying to stop the sadness she felt whenever she talked about her Mother from colouring her tone.
"Raised by a man...it's not a wonder that you're built for hard labour" Terry cruelly stated, before dismissing the blonde with a wave of her hand.
Retreating back to her room, Brittany quickly washed up and changed into her sleepwear, before curling herself up in bed and pulling Lord Tubbington to her side. The cat purred, vibrating against her chest as she fought back the tears that were threatening to spill from her eyes.
Though she was never one to feel sorry for herself, she missed her father sorely, her heart ached with the loss of never knowing her own mother, and the hundreds of complex emotions she felt towards Princess Santana overwhelmed her... Princess Santana. No sooner had the thought crossed her mind, than she found herself slipping away into dreams of a happier time, where the Princess would reach up and wipe away one of the tears sliding down her cheek; where she'd be Brittany Susan Pierce, not Brittany Susan Von Gent, dressed in her simple blue and cream serving dress, and Santana would still be talking with her and laughing with her, like none of that mattered anyway.
Surrendering to her thoughts, holding Lord Tubbington close to her tucked into the blankets, Brittany fell into an exhausted sleep.