Chapter Text
His first impression of the girl standing before him was, “Huh. She looks a bit different from before.”
Then again, Prince Albrecht had been dancing furiously for the better part of an hour with hardly any break, so perhaps his senses were not at their sharpest. And the more he looked at the girl, the more he became certain that she was indeed Giselle: no one else in the village had her rosy complexion, sky blue eyes, and strawberry blonde hair. Plus, she was wearing the pink and blue gradient dress that only Giselle had. Was it a bit odd that she was now suddenly dancing with all the grace and training of a professional ballerina, despite being born and raised in a small village in the middle of nowhere with no access to the prestigious ballet academies of the city? Sure, but maybe she had been… practicing a lot. Albrecht was certain that this was the girl he was looking for.
Unfortunately, before he could woo her, before he could finish even two sentences, a rather well-built villager man dressed in the plainest, ugliest red vest Albrecht had ever laid eyes on stormed onto the scene.
“Giselle, this man is an imposter! Look at his hands.” The villager – who he soon learned was named Hilarion, what a joke of a name! – grabbed Albrecht’s hand rather forcefully, palm face up. “Soft! Like a baby’s behind.”
Albrecht hadn’t realized how swiftly his cover would be blown. But who would have thought that 1) Giselle was seventeen years of age, 2) she did not want to marry him, despite his being sixth in line for the throne, third if you don’t count his sisters, which he doesn’t, and 3) the literal Snow Queen would show up and demand he and Hilarion (what a joke of a name!) hunt her down? This day couldn’t get any weirder.
So now they were traveling north on horseback in search of Giselle.
“Albrecht, there’s no way we’ll find her if we keep going north,” Hilarion groaned. “We’ve been riding for hours, and she’s on foot. There’s no way she’s even made it this far.”
“That’s Your Highness to you. Or at the very least, Prince Albrecht.”
“Oh, come on.”
“What? You think I merely jest?”
Hilarion shot him a pointed glare. “We’re both here to find Giselle. Can you quit being all high-and-mighty for just a minute?”
“Fine, fine,” Albrecht huffed.
The two men continued along in silence for a bit.
“Sir, I’m just saying, maybe we’ll have better luck if we head another direction.”
Albrecht turned to look at the villager. “Sir? Really?”
“Oh, my god.”
“Listen, you filthy peasant, I’m sorry you never learned how to address royalty, but I will not stand for this disrespect!”
“Yeah, you’re not standing, you’re sitting. On a horse.”
Albrecht couldn’t believe his ears. “That – that is not what that saying refers to. But I suppose if you won’t leave a turn unstoned, then you won’t know –”
“Are you calling me stupid? That still doesn’t change the fact that you’re literally sitting on a horse – and mind you, Juniper is one of my horses –”
“Fine! Fine.” In one precariously unbalanced motion, Albrecht dismounted the horse – Juniper, apparently – and stomped towards Hilarion. “I’m standing now, see? And your horse’s name is just about as ridiculous as yours. You couldn’t have chosen anything more refined or grand?”
“Hey, Juniper is a perfectly good name for a horse!”
“Ha! Please! A magnificent creature deserves a name with splendor. I have personally always fancied ‘Botticelli.’”
“Well, feel free to name your horse whatever you want, but I’m sticking with…” Hilarion trailed off as he looked behind the prince. “Juniper?”
Albrecht spun around. The horse was gone.
“You –” Albrecht grabbed a fistful of the villager’s shirt in anger. “This is all your fault!” In truth, he wanted to grab the fabric at Hilarion’s chest, tower over him, and yell at him. But considering Hilarion was atop a horse, and Albrecht was not particularly gifted along the vertical axis, he did end up grabbing only the bottom of Hilarion’s vest, and Hilarion’s face remained a good two feet above his. Slightly less threatening, to say the least.
“I can’t believe you didn’t hold onto the reins,” Hilarion groaned.
“Why– what– how was I supposed to know to do that? I usually have a stableboy for these tasks.”
“You know what? Thanks a lot for losing one of my only two horses. That’s half my entire stable. You can just walk the rest of the way.”
“Walk?! In these pristine leather boots? Are you mad?”
The villager scoffed and flicked the reins, his horse trotting forward.
“Wait, slow down. Slow down!” Albrecht jogged after Hilarion, stumbling slightly. “When all this is over, I’ll buy you another horse, I swear! Will you please slow down?”
Hilarion stopped the horse. “You think you can throw around your money and get whatever you want?”
“Yes.”
“...”
“...”
“Whatever. Get on.”
Albrecht reluctantly – and awkwardly – climbed onto the horse, trying not to touch the villager’s back. At this close distance, he could see a myriad of stains on the ugly red vest. Albrecht shuddered.
“I’m naming her Juniper Junior. And I better not hear a single complaint out of you.”