”Once upon a time….”

Jongdae rolled his eyes as the head cook started her tale, the scullery boys and girls gathering her around in rapt attention even as they continued to prepare for the evening’s feast - potatoes being pared, goblets being polished while the children and young adults leaned in closer to catch each precious word. His friend Kyungsoo looked enraptured and the story had barely begun. “We’ll be lucky if we even see any scraps from all of this…” the kitchen boy muttered to himself as he purposefully turned away from the older woman and her stupid stories, his slim, overworked fingers kneading bread dough in thinly veiled disgust and frustration. He didn’t understand how Cook could fill the others’ heads with such blatant lies. 

...in a land far, far away….

He supposed that was true since there was no way any of this nonsense would happen anywhere near the kingdom of Exoterra, his home ever since he could remember. Of course, he had been dropped off at the doorstep of the kitchens when he was a baby so that wasn’t saying much. He was probably born just down the road in some poor serf’s hovel, one mouth too many too feed. It wasn’t like he was some secret Prince or Duke. Princes didn’t have calluses on their fingers or go to sleep with a stomach that ached to be filled with something more than someone else’s leftovers.

...lived a great king named Arthur..

Jongdae snorted to himself. At least that king had a reasonable, simple name - not half a dozen that he chose to use whenever the mood struck him. Yifan appeared to be the favored moniker of the week, at least the last time he heard. Next week it would be Wufan or Kevin….or Bob.

...and his lovely queen Guinevere..

Now King Yifan (or whatever he chose to call himself - it was Tuesday, after all) was tall and imposing and his glare was as deadly as any swordpoint (either that or Jongdae figured he was just constipated but that was neither here nor there, now was it?). However that stony expression seemed to melt whenever the court chirurgeon entered the room. The king’s queen had passed several years before but it appeared that her place in the monarch’s heart was being filled by a gentle healer. Jongdae supposed that the connection that the king and Yixing shared was kind of like a fairy tale but that was the ONLY thing in this place that was magical or mysterious or whatever. 

Cook continued with her story of dashing knights (in reality they were all clumsy and stupid and last night Sir Jongin tripped and spilled his ale down the front of Jongdae’s shirt when he was serving dinner in the Great Hall), terrible dragons (which had been extinct for years - everyone knew that) and rescuing fair maidens all in name of true love. The last made Jongdae the angriest of all, shoving the risen bread dough into the oven with such force that he burned the tips of his thumbs. 

True love.

That was the biggest joke of them all.

No one ever lived happily ever after.



The following day Jongdae was crouched on the floor of the Great Hall, scrub brush in hand in what he knew was a futile attempt to remove the mud and grime of dozens of knights trampling about carelessly as if they owned the place. Of course, he reluctantly agreed that in part they did, since King Yifan paid them well enough to protect the kingdom. A title, a plot of land, a suit of armor, and the freedom to marry anyone they wanted. Seemed like a pretty good deal to protect a kingdom and mess up the castle. And Jongdae did appreciate it, he supposed. After all, he really didn’t fancy being overrun by some foreign enemy, no matter how much he resented his current lot in life. Slaves definitely had it worse off than servants. He heard that those captured by the knights of Babylonia had to dye their hair blonde. And those taken prisoner by Bangtan’s knights had to show off their abdominal muscles whenever it was demanded. No, Exoterra’s servants had it relatively easy, Jongdae admitted grudgingly.

….but couldn’t the knights at least clean off their boots before they tracked mud into the Great Hall?

“Inconsiderate bumbling oafs who think they are something special just because they can joust and ride and wear all that heavy armor. They don’t have to clean that stupid stuff….’polish this, Jongdae….no, it’s not shiny enough, Jongdae….I’m too perfect to do my own work so you can do it, Jongdae’…”

He continued muttering to himself as he scrubbed, dirt smudging the bridge of his nose as he reached up absentmindedly to brush his mussed hair away from his eyes. Suddenly a shadow fell across him, blocking out his light and thereby making much more difficult to clean up the dirt. Jongdae looked up, glaring at the offender - figuring it was one of the other kitchen boys. He promised himself he wouldn’t be snarky towards Kyungsoo this time…

...except it wasn’t Kyungsoo.

It was Sir Chanyeol.

Sir Chanyeol of the house of Park, one of the King’s most trusted knights. He had arrived at the castle a few years ago, stating in so many terms that he was going to be the most loyal knight Yifan (or Kris as he was called then) would ever have and he wasn’t far off the mark. He wasn’t the best jouster (that would be Changmin) or the best dancer (Jongin) but what he lacked in the courtly graces he made up for in loyalty. He hadn’t even let the banishment of his cousin Yoochun deter him from his goal. Unfairly tall and unfairly handsome and unfairly happy - he just wasn’t fair at all. 

“I’m so sorry we made such a mess earlier,” the knight murmured in his (unfairly) low, resonant voice as he stepped out of the stream of sunlight and crouched down in front of Jongdae. He was stupidly handsome, with big ears that somehow seemed to fit under his helmet and for some weird reason just worked with the rest of his face. Why Jongdae wanted to reach up and tuck the knight’s errant hair behind one of those behemoth ears he didn’t know. (Maybe he was getting a cold and wasn’t thinking straight. That had to be it.)

Kyungsoo had mentioned that Sir Chanyeol was nice but Kyungsoo was probably just pulling his leg. The other kitchen boy wasn’t as innocent as he looked. He probably doesn’t even know my name. The nobles don’t bother to get to know us….

“Jongdae, isn’t it?”

Or maybe they do.

Jongdae imagined he probably looked pretty stupid nodding dumbly like that but knights neverspoke to servants - unless, of course, it was to let them know their armor needed to be polished or to pass a “message” to one of the ladies of the castle. He didn’t say anything, turning back to his work and expecting the noble to be on his way. They usually had places to go, things to joust, maidens to court.

Except Chanyeol didn’t. Jongdae didn’t look up but could sense the other’s presence - the smell of sweat and horse and the clearing of that deep voice that kind of made Jongdae nervous but not in a bad way. Finally the servant looked up, only to find the knight studying him with dark eyes and a curious (and was that worried?) gaze.

“Jongdae, I witnessed your….discussion with Lord Suho the other day.”

Oh.

Oh…

Jongdae could feel his cheeks grow warm and he reached up to touch one, only to wince slightly as fingers brushed up against the newly yellowing bruise hidden by a fresh layer of dirt and grime.

“It was just a misunderstanding,” he found himself saying in a voice that wasn’t as insolent as usual. The King’s Chamberlain was a powerful man and he hadn’t meant to spill wine on his favorite doublet. “I was too clumsy and it was all my fault…”

Sir Chanyeol interrupted him. “But he didn’t need to hit you!” Jongdae’s eyes widened in surprise at the vehemence in the knight’s voice and he nearly backed away.

“But I ruined his doublet….”

“So? He has dozens of others and he had no right to hit you,” the knight replied, reaching over and brushing a thumb against the bruise that marred the servant’s cheekbone. Jongdae flinched - whether it was from the touch or the other’s words even he couldn’t say - and scowled, leaning back onto his knees.

“Why do you care? You don’t even know me. Before now you haven’t said more than ten words to me since you arrived. I’m just some poor, lowly kitchen boy. Someone to clean up your messes and pour your wine.”

“But Jongdae…” the knight tried to protest, only to be interrupted by the servant, who was now no longer meek and mild in the presence of nobility but instead full of fire and indignation.

“I’m not some damsel in distress for you to rescue!”

And with that Jongdae threw his scrub-brush down and stormed off, job half done and leaving a very confused knight in his wake.

Jongdae figured that would be the end of that - he would go back to the dull but consistent routine of the kitchen, Sir Chanyeol would go back to jousting and carousing and whatever else it was the knights seemed to do. However, no matter where Jongdae was he seemed to come into contact with the tall, erstwhile knight. Chanyeol lingered in the background when Jongdae was doing his chores, hanging around the kitchen and begging treats from a smitten Cook. 

(Jongdae often found a few of those tidbits secreted in his sleeping place, Kyungsoo grinning at him and saying the ‘big guy’ told Kyungsoo to give them to him. He refused to eat them, of course, even though the tarts were his favorites.)

Even worse, Jongdae found himself conscripted into serving in the Great Hall at supper more often and was (of course) assigned to the table shared by Chanyeol and his friends. He tried to look at anyone but Chanyeol, which of course made him look at the other knights. He soon realized that these men weren’t what he assumed. Sir Changmin was taciturn but was always gracious when offered the next course, offering to help when the large haunches of venison threatened to be too much for the servants to carry. Sir Zitao looked quite frightening when he was readying for battle but at the table he was sweet and Jongdae actually witnessed him cry over a baby bird he’d found the other day but had been unable to save. Most surprising, Sir Jongin treated him like a friend and much like he treated the others at the table. He’d joke and tease - and Jongdae found himself smiling more than he realized.

That evening Jongin grinned and nodded at Jongdae as he brought in dessert, then nudged Chanyeol teasingly. “Our Chanyeol talks about you quite a bit, Jongdae,” he said cheerfully - and the servant was surprised to see the tips of Chanyeol’s ears turn a vivid red. The servant ignored the warmth that flooded his own cheeks and shook his head, much to Jongin’s amusement. “Sir Chanyeol just seems to be around a lot down in the kitchens lately. Cook likes that. I think she likes it when he flirts with her…” The other knights burst into laughter at that and Chanyeol sunk further down in his seat. Jongin rested his chin on his hand and looked from Chanyeol to Jongdae and back again. “I don’t think Cook is the one Chanyeollie is trying to flirt with…”

Jongdae froze, his eyes growing wide as Sir Jongin’s words sunk in. The bruise on his cheek had faded in the past few weeks and even with the knights seated he still appeared delicate and vulnerable at that very moment. Chanyeol sat on his hands, resisting the overwhelming urge to get up and place himself between the servant and his best friend even though he knew Jongin was just teasing. He also remembered the words Jongdae had spoken to him at their first encounter - he was no damsel in distress. 

Jongdae opened his mouth to say something but closed it quickly, mumbling instead that he needed to get back to work and wishing the knights a good evening. Chanyeol sighed as he watched the servant leave, shaking off the friendly hand that rested on his shoulder. He didn’t notice the looks and fond smiles shared between his friends. 

He stood to excuse himself, heading down to the stables to saddle his horse. His manor wasn’t far from the castle and Chanyeol needed some time to think. Most knights had the stablemen do the task of saddling the horses for departure but Chanyeol preferred to do it himself, crooning softly to his mare as he readied her for home.

“Was Sir Jongin correct?” 

The soft, hesitant voice surprised the knight and he scrambled to pick up the reins of his horse as he turned to face the speaker. Jongdae hovered at the door to the horse’s stall, no longer in his serving attire but now in the simple tunic and trousers Chanyeol had first seen him in when he had been scrubbing floors that fateful day. However this time he didn’t have a scowl on his face. No, this time there was something curious - something almost wistful - on a face that usually was skeptical and disbelieving.

“What?”

“When Sir Jongin said that it wasn’t Cook you were flirting with….was he right?”

Chanyeol lowered the reins, running his fingers through the horse’s mane as he carefully chose his words. “What would you say if I told you that Sir Jongin was correct, Jongdae?”

There were several drawn-out moments of silence and Chanyeol looked up, worried that he had driven the servant - no, he wasn’t just a servant, he was Jongdae away.

Jongdae was still there and had taken a step closer, a shy smile on the smaller man’s face.

“I’d say you aren’t what I expected and your ears are still ridiculously big...but I really don’t mind anymore.”

It wasn’t a fairy tale - Jongdae was still a servant with a jaundiced eye and a sharp tongue and Sir Chanyeol was still a knight who tracked in too much mud (although after another judgemental look from Jongdae the mud in the Great Hall seemed to reduce by half). No one was a damsel in distress and that was perfectly fine. Chanyeol’s friends didn’t say a word when he held Jongdae’s hand under the table as the servant waited for the second course to finish - 

- and if Chanyeol smirked when he saw Jongin stumble while dancing with one of the court ladies when he realized Jongdae’s friend Kyungsoo was watching him with stars in his eyes he kept it to himself.

Perhaps not a Happily Ever After but not bad at all. 

(And the land of Exoterra flourished under the reign of the new Royal Consort Yixing and his King...who now went by the name of Bob.)