The Swan Princess

Chapter 2: Beginner's Luck

My mind swirls. There's no way. How did this guy just have an extra copy of an invite to the ball? Why did he just address it to me? (I'm assuming he does not regularly engage with peasants, but considering how weird that encounter was, I have no idea for sure). Is he that desperate for a date? Even if he is that desperate, why invite someone you know is too poor to have a nice outfit anyways? What is going on?

I do a deep search of the surrounding area. There's nothing but shrubs and the usual forest floor around the invitation.

I have no idea how to process this. I feel like it has to be a trap, somehow. Maybe this guy just likes to humiliate people? Is making fun of the poor something that rich people do?

What a dumb question. The answer is definitely yes, but I feel like this would be extreme, even for the rich.

On one hand, I can stick with my original plan and risk getting turned away at the door. On the other, I can pretend I was actually in possession of this invite naturally, and risk absolute humiliation when it is revealed that I actually just found it in the woods somewhere.

Original plan it is, then. Carefully, I pick up the gold foil invitation and stick it into my pocket. Then, I start heading for the back, hidden, servant's entrance of the castle.

I roll my shoulders back, take a deep breath, and prepare for the performance of my life. I keep my head tall as I walk up to the dingy second drawbridge, hidden from the main view of the estate.

"Who the hell are you?" the sharp, older woman guarding the door squeaked, looking at me in disgust.

"The new seamstress, Odette," I replied, curtsying.

"We don't have a new seamstress, girl, we already have 3," she replied, looking me over.

Bracing myself, I explained, "My parents received a letter from her majesty requesting additional fans, patterns, and sewing assistance in the preparation for tonight's ball. As they are currently very old and frail, they sent me as their representative."

The old lady looks at me. Blinks. Looks at me again, and says menacingly, "wait here."

I wait, uncomfortably shifting on my feet, for what feels like ages. If she brings out a guard, I might have to run away, which would hurt my already aching joints. My impulsive thoughts remind me of the golden ticket sitting in my pocket, but I'm not foolish enough to use it. Especially with this ploy, I know that's not going to work.

"Hey! Let me go, you crazy old crone! Unhand me, woman! Never in my life have I been provoked to hit a woman, but I can start today!"

Ahead of me, the old lady is dragging out a burly man that's at least 2 feet taller than her. He's resisting and screaming out increasingly more profane language as she drags him out of the castle by his ear.

"Considering you've been hitting on my staff for months, that would be a lie," she replied coolly, and dragged him past me and towards the more rickety side of the bridge.

"This is what you get for still being in the castle today, when I already kicked you out yesterday!" she angrily exclaims, planting one booted foot into his back, and pushing his flailing body into the moat. He falls, he screams, and the water serpents swarm onto him, turning the murky navy water red.

A scream later, his body had completely submerged, and the matron started stomping back to me. I considered backing away from the crazy old crone, but thought better of it.

"You," she says, pointing at me. "You get his salary. Come in," and waved me into the entrance.

I cautiously follow her in, and I hear the creak of the castle drawbridge closing behind me. The hallway I follow her into is lined with wide, flat stones, with sconces keeping it lit.

We keep walking until we reach an intersection. She stops abruptly, facing me.

"The seamstresses are all in the servant's East Wing. It's down the hall and to the left. Tell Margo I hired you. And don't pull this 'my parents sent me nonsense,' because we're not that dumb. I just feel bad for street rats like you. Earn your keep here and don't make me regret it."

With that, she storms off to what I presume is the West entrance of the castle. I head the opposite direction, shocked that I actually managed to get this far. The golden ticket sits like a stone in my pocket, but I'm committed to my original plan.

3 hours later, I'm wearing the standard brown servant dress, and mending tears in clothes with the other seamstresses. The head seamstress, Margo, seems nice enough, but she's only given me 5 minutes today to change before handing me work to finish. The other seamstresses might have been nice too, but they're also busy finishing up details for tonight's ball. Margo has been calling out commands for what feels like all day, until she says something that catches my attention.

"Emilia," Margo calls, "when you finish what you're doing, deliver these fans as welcome gifts to all the visiting ladies' rooms."

My head pops up. "Can I help?" I volunteer. "I can follow and help carry the fans, and learn where everything is." I propose, trying to look meek and not suspicious at all.

"When you're done with that, yes," Margo replies. I hold back my smile.

A few minutes later, my hands are stuffed full of fans, and Emilia is giving me a tour of the castle. I can tell as soon as we start entering the visitor's hallway because the walls are filled with elaborate tapestries, instead of just plain stone.

We made our rounds across all the visiting princesses first. Although most of them had their handmaidens take the fans from us, the Hungarian princess made sure to address us personally in her thank you. I liked her immediately.

Eventually, we make our way to the more humble visitor's wing. This wing has milder paintings gracing the walls, instead of elaborately woven tapestry threads. This wing is where our own country's elite are staying, including my target of tonight: Odile.

As Emilia approaches the door of her room, I try to reason a way out of going in. Odile would definitely recognize me from our past, and would definitely suspect me once I steal her stuff. Or worse, she would suspect Emilia.

"Hey Emilia?" I ask shyly. It's not hard, because I'm already more on the reserved side.

"Yeah?" Emilia replies

"Do you want to split up the work? You can take the left half of this hall, and I'll take the right."

She looks at me for a moment, before a ghost of a smile appears on her face.

"Are you scared of Odile?" she asks.

"What?" I say, whipping my head around. She didn't say that loudly, and the hall is mostly empty, but it doesn't look good for servants to have that kind of conversation publicly. Also, I wasn't scared of her. Mostly.

"The Rothbarts have a reputation for terrorizing the serving staff everywhere they go, and driving them to seek employment elsewhere. Were you one of their former servants?" She's smiling fully now.

"No, I just heard of them," I lie smoothly. At least, I think it's smooth. Emilia doesn't seem convinced.

"You can take the right side of this hall," she decides, "but you owe me the full story of why you're here later."

"Deal," I say, and hastily set out to deliver the fans.

When I'm finally done delivering them, I take a moment to look out the rounded window at the end of the hallway. It's getting dark, and the sun is setting. It casts a bright glow over the carefully manicured castle grounds and illuminates the rolling hills beyond. I can see the long, white ribbons being put up to celebrate the ball tonight, and it reminds me of my mission.

Checking to see that nobody is looking, I swing a leg over to sit on the ledge of the window. Then, I push off and embrace free-fall: my descent from human to swan.