The morning sun filtered through the palace windows, catching the polished floors and glinting off the swords stacked neatly in the training hall.
Prince Adrien sat cross-legged on his bed, sword leaning lazily against the wall, a mischievous glint in his eyes.
"Rowan," he called, his voice polite but slightly whiny,
"do you think I could skip sword practice today? I'm—uh—tired."
Rowan, standing by the doorway with his arms crossed, didn't even flinch. "No. You're not skipping."
Adrien groaned. "But—"
Rowan cut him off with a sharp look and turned to leave. "I have work to do. You know the rules."
The prince stared after him, defeated, before dragging himself off the bed.
Meanwhile, in the palace workroom, the maids bustled about, tying ribbons, folding wrapping paper, and arranging small gifts. Anastasia, Drizella, and Cinderella worked among them, each assigned to help finish the preparations.
Anastasia, wiping her hands on a towel, whispered to herself,
"Okay, new plan: we keep everything intact, nothing breaks, and if a gift explodes, it's magically not my fault. Fairy godmother optional, but highly recommended. Actually why not just send some envelope with money."
Drizella snorted, dropping a ribbon in a puddle of spilled glue. "I think it's already broken."
Cinderella, calm as ever, simply folded the ribbon neatly and set it aside.
Rowan paced slowly among the tables, eyeing the girls carefully. He had assigned himself the task of invigilating the room, ensuring no more chaos than necessary.
"Stay focused," he instructed in his usual firm tone. "No mistakes."
That was when the door creaked open, and Kit, the young guard, entered. The prince in disguise, as usual: plain tunic, brown cap pulled low, boots dusted from the morning streets. His eyes sparkled with curiosity as he surveyed the room.
"Need a hand?" he asked, stepping closer to Anastasia, who was trying to tie a delicate bow.
"Uh… maybe," she said cautiously, still remembering past incidents. "Just be careful."
Kit nodded, trying to adjust the ribbon with an exaggerated air of competence.
Anastasia's transmigrator brain immediately flagged the red warning signs.
He has no idea what he's doing. If this goes wrong, the entire gift will explode, or worse, the universe will collapse. And yes, I'm still the one who has to fix it.
Her prediction came true in less than ten seconds. Kit tugged the ribbon a little too hard, and a small decorative box slipped from the table, flipping in the air and landing with a soft thump—but the lid cracked open, revealing its contents.
Anastasia's face fell.
"Oh no, oh no, oh no. This is not in the script. Universe, please intervene—Cinderella story, do your thing!"
Rowan's voice thundered across the room. "Kit! Step aside. What are you thinking?"
Kit froze, cheeks pink, realizing he had crossed a line.
"I… I was trying to help," he stammered.
Rowan's jaw tightened. He strode over and took the young guard by the arm.
"You're not here to disrupt. Stay out of the gift preparation. And Prince—"
he glanced at Adrien briefly, knowing he was behind the disguise, he pulled him aside,
"—you will not skip sword practice today. Understand?"
Adrien—or Kit—tried to reason. "But Rowan, I can—"
"No," Rowan cut him off. "Practice first, complaints later."
The prince's shoulders slumped.
Negotiation failed, as usual.
Back at the tables, Anastasia bit her lip. She felt awful. Not only had Kit broken the gift, but now she had to repair it—and secretly, a small pang of guilt stirred in her chest. Why do I feel like I need to apologize to him personally? He's just a minor character in my life, universe, but I swear he has main plot energy.
Cinderlla quietly handed her a piece of ribbon, smiling. Drizella shrugged.
"It's not the end of the world," she said, picking up glue that had spilled onto the floor.
Anastasia took a deep breath. "Right. We fix it. We survive. We keep the story as close to canon as possible. No magic required, because apparently today, the fairy godmother is on break."
She shot Kit a quick glance. His nervous smile made her heart skip a beat—or maybe that was just her transmigrator imagination messing with her.
Either way, she whispered under her breath,
"Next time, universe, let him succeed. Preferably without the global catastrophe."
Rowan returned to the doorway, watching them work in silence, while Kit hung back, went out of everyone's site.
The day had started with the usual arguments about sword practice, but it was shaping up to be another story, messy, human, and somehow, slightly magical.
When the gift work finally ended, the sisters carried the finished pieces out to the storage room. The maids thanked them, and Rowan dismissed everyone for a short break before the next task.
Anastasia lingered near the tables, her fingers lightly brushing the repaired ribbon. Her eyes kept flicking toward the door. Kit hadn't returned since Rowan dragged him away.
She pressed her lips together.
"He didn't get in real trouble… right?"
Cinderella stretched her shoulders and headed toward the hall. Drizella yawned loudly.
"I'm going to find tea before I melt."
Anastasia nodded absently and slipped out after them, but instead of going with her sisters, she turned toward the training grounds.
The stone corridor was quiet, the sun warming the stained glass patterns on the floor. Somewhere in the distance, she could hear swords clashing, voices shouting drills, and Rowan barking instructions.
She scanned the yard. The prince was there, practicing reluctantly, but Kit was nowhere in sight.
She frowned. If Rowan punished him for breaking a box, that's ridiculous, she thought silently, her worry making her pace faster along the terrace.
She checked behind the stables, near the gardens, and even outside the workshop sheds. Servants moved about carrying baskets and tools, but none of them had seen him.
A prick of worry grew sharper. What if he'd gotten reassigned or sent away? He was clumsy sometimes, and Rowan could be strict. Maybe too strict.
She turned back toward the main hall just as Cinderella and Drizella reappeared with cups of tea.
Drizella raised a brow. "Looking for someone?"
"No," Anastasia said quickly, then softer, "Just checking."
But she kept glancing over her shoulder, hoping to catch a glimpse of brown boots or that familiar cap.
Kit didn't appear.
And the absence sat heavy, like a question with no answer yet.
* * *
Night settled over the palace like a heavy curtain. Lamps flickered in the corridor outside the prince's bedchamber, and the muffled sound of guards changing posts echoed through the halls.
Rowan stood in front of Prince Adrien with the same expression he used for stubborn recruits. Arms crossed, brows steady, voice calm in a way that promised no escape.
"You tried to skip sword practice again," he said.
"Three days of extra drills."
Adrien lifted his chin, trying for charm.
"I believe skipping once in a while is healthy. Builds character. Shows initiative."
Rowan blinked. "Three days."
Adrien switched tactics.
"Consider my physical and emotional well-being. A prince must not overwork himself."
"Three days," Rowan repeated.
Adrien paced, hands behind his back, pretending he was delivering a speech to the royal council.
"What if I wrote a very sincere apology letter? With metaphors. And seals."
"No."
Adrien tried a smirk next.
"What if I win against you in sparring tomorrow? Then no punishment."
Rowan actually laughed.
"You have not beaten me once."
"One day it will happen."
"Not this week."
Adrien paused.
He could feel defeat approaching like slow rain. He pointed a finger at Rowan in a final attempt.
"You enjoy this too much."
Rowan nodded without shame.
"It brings balance to the world."
Adrien sighed and slumped into a chair. "Fine. Extra drills. Three days. Happy now?"
"Very," Rowan replied.
There was something like victory shining behind his eyes, quiet and amused. He had just won an argument against a prince, and the thrill of it was obvious.
Adrien narrowed his eyes.
"You are gloating."
"A little," Rowan admitted. "It is rare when you listen."
Adrien groaned. "Do not tell anyone."
"No promises."
Rowan left the room smiling to himself, pleased as a cat with stolen cream, while Adrien muttered about tyrants disguised as loyal friends.
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SIDE NOTE: sometimes I want to skip my duties and classes but we have one Rowan of our own. 😣
If you like my story then give it a star and share it with your friends, this will help me to keep motivated and write new stories.