8
and found a prince

Fred had grown tired of the royal carriage. He'd cited his need to become "one" with his kingdom and its climate as the first of many reasons why he should be allowed to ride on a horse instead of a wooden chest on wheels. The second reason was that he needed a breath of fresh air after being exposed to so many souls and soles. The third reason was simply because Lionel was going to have a stroke if he was trapped with Fred any longer, and so the young prince had spared his valet.

The only alternative to which his retinue was amenable was to have him dress as one of his guards so he could ride horseback in anonymity—an alternative he'd seized and relished. Since they were riding out of the quaint villages and bustling town squares and into the countryside, Fred could relax, knowing Hermione was that much closer.

So when their convoy rode up to the last property the census had shown to have unmarried women—the very place he should've gone first—he let Lionel and the herald take the lead. Perhaps he could give Hermione a bit of a fun surprise, dressed as he was. He and two of his guard accompanied the herald and the valet as the distinguished Lady Tremaine led them into the main parlor of the manor.

"And you said how many eligible maidens are in this home, Madam?" asked Lionel, pointedly louder and catching Fred's attention.

"Two," answered the lady almost disdainfully—as if repeating herself caused Lionel to lose credibility in her eyes. "Three if you counted the fact that I am unmarried."

"Only two then?" said Lionel, almost to himself. "Have you any maids?"

"I thought you said eligible," said Lady Tremaine.

"Your standards of eligibility are clearly differing from the royal mandate," said Lionel—a warning if anything.

"Forgive me," said the older woman with not even a shred of remorse. "We do have a maid, though you must have already encountered her at the town square, as she's been running our errands and is still out."

Lionel smiled. "Well, just to be sure, we can wait for her and make sure we've already signed off on her fitting as well."

Lady Tremaine's fake, polite smile took a bit more of a turn down Grimace Lane, but she recovered quickly. "No matter, I'm sure your search will end with either of my daughters."

"But should it not, the prince has searched and waited all this time for his bride. He can wait an hour or two more for one last young maiden," said Lionel. "Wouldn't want the right girl to slip through the cracks."

The woman's fake, polite laugh was even worse than her smile. She cleared her throat after no one else tittered with her and turned to the two fidgeting young women Fred distinctly remembered spotting—and avoiding—at the ball. They'd been dressed in garish pink and green, and he supposed that was the color scheme by which they lived because it was the same colors they were dressed in now.

"May I present my two daughters, Lucinda and Merlinda," said Lady Tremaine proudly as her two daughters gave a trembly and a lopsided curtsy each.

"Bloody hell," muttered Fred under his breath.

He thought he hadn't spoken loud enough, but one of the guards beside him dipped his head with a whispered, cautionary, "Sir."

Even Lionel couldn't fully contain his dismay. "Very well—let's begin." Fred was certain the valet's knuckles were white on the box containing the glass slipper.

The first girl—Lucinda—thankfully had relatively odorless feet, since Lionel didn't look nearly as distressed. Correction: he didn't look distressed because of the smell of her feet, but rather at the way she clutched at his shoulder and his head as she attempted to put all her weight into the foot she was shoving into the glass slipper. Honestly, Fred was surprised the shoe itself hadn't broken from the pressure she seemed to be exerting upon it.

"Miss," wheezed out Lionel, as the girl was now putting him in a near-chokehold. "If it hasn't fit by now, I don't think it ever will."

"Don't be deluded!" gritted out Lucinda, now clutching at Lionel's face as she tried coming at the shoe at another angle—as if angle changed fit. "Kingdoms weren't conquered with that attitude!"

Fred was about to faint from how hard he had to hold in his laughter. The two guards who'd accompanied him were now almost shielding him from view.

The second girl—Merlinda—was no better. Though her feet weren't noxious, the sounds emanating from her mouth were as repulsive, and Fred had to pardon himself with the soft excuse of checking on the horses. The girl was carrying on as if she was giving birth right then and there instead of trying put on a shoe. It wasn't as if they were granting the engagement based on effort, so it was beyond him as to why both girls were trying so hard. And the harder they tried, the more their mother seemed inclined to try on the bloody slipper herself to secure their positions in the royal family.

As soon as the front doors closed behind him and he was back out into the open air, he had to bend over and brace his hands on his knees as he laughed, Lionel's face forever imprinted in his mind. But as his laughter petered out, it was replaced by mild concern.

Where the bloody hell was Hermione? She had to be the maid Lady Tremaine had mentioned, but the sun was beginning to set, and she should've been back from the town square by now. If she really was the maid, supper should've been started, and therefore she should've been home. And the town square was barely three miles away, and they hadn't passed by her on the way.

He petted the brown horse he'd been given, and it nuzzled his cloak gently before throwing its head back and neighing toward the house. Fred frowned and looked back. And then up. It was much, much easier, now that he was outside, to spot the figure of a young woman traipsing across the roof of the large manor.

With that abso-bloody-lutely unmistakeable bushy hair.

"Gentlemen?" called Fred cheerfully, more impressed than concerned for the bushy-haired woman's safety.

"Your Highness?"

"Is there a girl on that roof or is it the heat?"

"It's…it's a girl, Your Highness."

"Thank you, Captain."

"Would you like us to fetch her, Your Highness?"

"No, Captain, I think I should like to do so myself."

The captain's voice went up an octave. "Your Highness?"

Fred grinned.

"No wonder Lionel is always so red all the time," he heard one of the guards mutter.

"Cheer up, gentlemen!" called Fred, excitedly mounting the horse and urging it toward the small lane that toward the back of the manor. "Today's a beautiful day to find myself a bride."

"On a roof, sir?!" called one of the guards.

"Proves she'll be on top of the domestic side of her future queenly duties, eh?" laughed Fred over his shoulder. He barely heard the groans as he trotted along the perimeter of the manor.

Once he found the lowest point of the roof, right above the back door by the chicken pens, he pulled alongside the edge of the sloped roof and waited until he heard soft footsteps and then—

Whump!

"Hello there," he said cheerfully, steadying the slightly-spooked horse. "Looks like the lady of the house did miscount, eh, Herms?"

Hermione's expression slid from shock, to relief, to frustration, and then amusement. Fred helped her sit up a bit better on his lap.

"Looks like you're missing both shoes, but I've only got the one to solve your problems."

"It's good to see you too, Fred," she sighed.

"I'd say the same, but I'm mostly relieved at your scent."

"Pardon?"

"I won't be able to get the smell of feet out of my nose for a while, Granger," he hissed, grimacing at his turned the horse back toward the front of the manor.

"That's disgusting, but I'm the one who climbed down a tower, Weasley. We'll compare scars later."

Fred grinned again and as soon as the guards came to view, he waved them closer to help Hermione off the horse.

"And are you the missing maiden?" asked one of the guards who'd accompanied Fred into the manor.

"More like the indentured servant at this point," sighed Hermione, self-consciously smoothing down her hair.

"And why were you on the roof, Miss?"

"Because apparently indentured servants are locked in towers," answered Fred for her as he hopped down onto the grass beside her.

"Well, if I may be so bold as to say, Miss," said the guard, nodding at the roof, "you've shown a lot more courage and athleticism than a lot of my comrades." He tipped his hat to her with a grin.

"Thank you," said Hermione, laughing.

"I daresay, with what you've displayed up there, you could probably ride a dragon," added Fred, offering her his elbow.

She shook her head at him and slipped her hand onto his arm as he led her back up the front steps and to the entrance of the house, which suddenly sprang open with a harried-looking Lionel behind them.

"We've got a late arrival," said Fred, with a huge smile. He spotted Lady Tremaine and her two daughters—both missing one shoe, and his smile grew even wider at their shell-shocked expressions directed at Hermione.

He used his free hand to pull off the royal guard's helm and the cape, handing them off to a nearby guard, and the three women dropped to their knees in deep curtsies.

"Your Royal Highness!" they chorused.

"My good lady," he announced haughtily. "We've found your wayward maid cleaning the very tiles of the roof—you should be so proud of her dedication. Will someone fetch her water? Or perhaps tea?"

Hermione squeezed his arm warningly.

"You just climbed down a tower," said Fred smugly as the two daughters darted off clumsily. "Enjoy this."

"Fred—"

"Have you a large assortment of teas, Lady Tremaine?" asked Fred, sounding as highfaluting as he could, leading Hermione to one of the settees and surreptitiously kicking away the other two girls' shoes so she didn't trip over them. "Darjeeling, oolong, jasmine? Green, black, white?"

The woman's ears turned every shade between peach and puce.

"It was quite amusing, actually," said Fred, gesturing for Hermione to sit. "It's like fate dropped her right onto my lap—not with one eligible foot, but two!"

A loud clatter and crash came from the other side of the house. Merlinda and Lucinda must not have any idea how to pick up a kettle, let alone boil one full of water.

"Your Highness, I can't let you debase yourself in good conscience by continuing to be in the presence of this traitorous wretch," said Lady Tremaine, rushing forward and attempting to assert herself between Fred and Hermione where she sat.

When Fred glanced back down at her, she saw something freeze on his expression. Hermione could almost see the princely good humor melt from Fred's face and the horns growing on his head.

"Madam, I understand wanting to step in during strenuous circumstances," he said, eyeing her until she backed away in intimidated deference, "but considering the deceit upon which you greeted us, which has led to this poor young lady taking unorthodox but appropriate steps to secure her freedom, I suggest you perhaps take a mile in her shoes. Literally or figuratively, I don't mind either as long as it brings you far from me. Further. Further. Good. Thank you."

Hermione closed her eyes to keep from anyone seeing her roll her eyes. She glanced at Lionel who stood at her other side almost protectively.

"How many puns has it been?" she asked him softly.

"I lost count after five-hundred and twenty-eight," said Lionel wearily.

"Now where's that tea? I've always found a good cup heels the sole."

Lionel exhaled. "I need to retire."

Hermione covered her mouth to keep from laughing, and the stepmother was well on her way to a lovely purple shade that reminded Hermione so dearly of Umbridge. Fred really knew how to bring out such vivid colors on horrible people's faces.

"I should've known there had to be another person in the house," he mused, staring at the grey-haired woman. "Everything is entirely too clean. You all should really learn to stand on your own two feet."

Hermione sighed. "Erm, Your Grace—"

"But I suppose it's hard to stand on your feet when you so enjoy putting one in your mouth," said Fred, his cheery tone turning dark. He motioned to Hermione, and it was then that she realized that Fred had only ever seen one side of her since she'd fallen onto his lap. He must've seen the aching bruise on the other side of her face. No wonder Lionel had quickly flanked her other side when he'd opened the front doors. "Nothing really sets my blood boiling more than being told lies."

All the color that had suffused the older woman's face immediately drained.

"Is she your maid, Lady Tremaine, or your prisoner?" asked Fred. "Unless your roof tiles are shaped like handprints, I can't quite fathom why this young lady would have such a mark on her face."

"Fred," said Hermione softly.

The valet looked like he was about to faint when Hermione addressed the prince so informally, but Fred only shook his head.

"No matter, I suppose. I was hoping to enjoy this a bit more, but I think I've had my fill of this place," muttered Fred, turning back to Hermione. "I'm sure you have as well."

He snapped his fingers, and Lionel hastened to his side with the ornate wooden box, open to the sparkling glass slipper. Fred didn't waste another second before taking the magical shoe and dropping to one knee before Hermione. A moment after, a tray of china joined the floor when Merlinda and Lucinda entered the room again.

Fred reached for her foot, taking the back of her ankle with three fingers and lifting gently. She barely had to tip her toes before he was slipping on the surprisingly warm glass shoe over her toes and under her heel. It fit perfectly, of course. Hermione felt the thrum of magic as she caught Fred's good-natured wink and and smirk.

The warmth of the shoe grew until it was nearly humming with magical heat, and even Fred's eyes fell back onto it. The magic hit a crescendo and the sparkling glass emitted a faint glow that quickly strengthened until it bathed the entire parlor in a soft, silver light.

"Oh," said Fred, sounding impressed. "Looks like something's afoot."

"For Circe's sake—"