The Little Peasant Boy

A Fox

"My dear child. Your father and I have reached an agreement."
You looked at their faces, your eyes looking into their unforgiving, cold eyes. An aura could be gleamed from the room. And it was one of coldness, unforgiveness and death. 

 "Come with me, little one." Following your mother you left the room, leaving your father alone.

 "We are going  to the archives, there is something you see."

"What haven't I seen?"

"Your breeding, Child."

Breed to be a Queen. That thought ran through your mind everyday since you realized your lineage and what rested on your shoulders. Your mother and father were purebred royals. The only lowest rank they would marry was a Count and as such, the entire bloodline was full of royals. 

"I already know about that mother..."

"You don't know half. Your father and I raised you to be like Queen Mewni."

"I know about your Mother, John and I covered her reign a year ago."

Raised to be a Queen. The minute you failed at anything or got nothing right, off to your parents cruel hands. Off for torture for misplacing a comma. Off to get beaten because you trembled in ballet. Off to the torture chamber for not looking someone in the eyes enough during a meeting. Forget raised, more like beaten into your skull. John soon learned to help you fix your mistakes, fix them himself or not report them at all.

"I have had a look at them."

"well, you need her dairy." Your mouther reached for a shelf in the middle of the foyer, pulling out a royal blue lather bound journal.

"Study them."

Your mother started out for the study where your father was.

"Mother. Father. Why did you bring me away from my studies? Apart from the journal?"

"Your mother and I believe you getting married would help our kingdom greatly."

"What about my studies?"

"You can continue it an engagement Darling. You can keep studying until we die and you inherit the throne."

"Yes father."

"The Ball is later tonight. Your servants will get you looking lovely by then."

 "Yes mother."

 You took your leave, a sigh escaping your lips.

 You never wanted to get married. Sure, you'd need a heir and all, but you can always adopt. You never knew your parents plans for you. It was a huge mixed bag. But out of everything they could have agreed on, it was marriage. The only man you would think if marrying was John. He and you were close enough that many people thought you two were best friends instead of teacher and student. You made your way to your wing of the castle. Passing by the wooden doors that held a study, library, servant's quarters and the like, you stopped at the bathing room's glass sliding door. You pushed the doors aside, entering the steamy room. It was empty, but the bathwater was still warm and sudsy. You quickly shed your light cotton dress. 

 The summers here were merciless, as well as the autumns here, but generally, light cotton was the popular choice of attire here.

 You quickly set down in the suds, unaware of the figure standing in the thick, velvet canopy that surrounded your vanity. He sat on the marble edge of the vanity, the shadows covering his thin frame. He smiled as he heard you humming temple hymns. He smirked as you stood up in the water, water and suds being left across the sandstone tiles as you grabbed three vails form the vanity. 

 You quickly retreated as you washed yourself. You yelled for the ladies in serving and they dried and dressed you in a light white dress and a light teal and dark purple silk robe. Gold jewelry and sapphires accented a long fishtail braid that draped over your shoulder. You sighed, leaving the room. 

 He followed from a distance. He stayed on the side of the hallway, far enough to not attract attention, but close enough to still smell your lotions and perfumes as you started to the ballroom.