#it was making this and going 'oh i wonder if this matches with any dannymay prompts?' that made me go OH RIGHT ITS DANNYMAY :O

[spookberry]

Bad Cujo! Do not eat a mud!!

[bubblegumbeech]

Keeping Cinderella

Dannymay Day 11: Midnight

He needed to leave. He needed to run, the clock was going to strike midnight at any moment and everything around him would fall to pieces. 

If he wasn’t back in time his masters might discover where he went and what little privileges he does have would be quickly swept away, he wouldn’t put it past them to lock him in the tower with nothing to do but make their clocks and fix their machinery. They weren’t about to learn how to do it themselves. 

“Where are you going in such a hurry?” his dance partner, Pariah, asked.

Clockwork glanced up at the large clock tower above them, counting the seconds until the spell wore off entirely. He needed an excuse. A believable one that wouldn’t offend him, he’d been a wonderful dancer after all and Clockwork didn’t exactly have a choice when it came to leaving. 

“I haven’t gotten to see the King,” he said, it was true if not the actual reason. “It might be my only chance.”

Pariah froze, surprise flickered across his expression for a fleeting moment but he didn’t let go. “What do you mean? You haven’t seen the king?”

This was wasting time, but there wasn’t anything Clockwork could do to break free. Sitting at home working constantly on clocks wasn’t exactly a sure fire way to gain muscle and Pariah had the body of a warrior, all toned muscles and obvious strength. 

He snuck a glance at the clock tower, time was running out. “I mean what I said, I arrived a bit late and missed his majesty’s arrival. You’re the only one I’ve danced with all night.” 

“Clockwork,” Pariah said, his voice carefully neutral, “I am the king.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous.” He tried to pull away again, but Pariah’s grip simply tightened. Not enough to bruise or even hurt, but certainly enough to keep him in place. “The King has countless duties to attend, he wouldn’t have spent all night dancing with some stranger.”

Pariah’s eyes darkened and he actually started pulling him into another dance, a slow one, matching the music they could barely hear from the band back inside the palace. 

“Did you not hear? I have to leave-“

“If seeing the king is your only reason to leave then you’ve nothing to worry for. I’ve explained I am the King. The only duty I have this day is to find someone with which to dance.” 

Rolling his eyes, Clockwork attempted to pull away again, using the momentum of the dance itself. He was caught though, and pulled quickly back into Pariah’s arms, his back pressed against a firm muscular chest. His voice, low and even, tickled against Clockwork’s ear and he had to fight a shiver as it crawled along his spine. 

“So, clearly you must have some other reason for trying to flee so desperately.”

He was trapped, and if he didn’t do something soon every secret he had was going to be exposed. The magic, the clothes, the decorations in his hair, even the glass shoes fit snug against his feet, it would all disappear. He’d be nothing but a slave again, hardly fit to be called to the castle, much less for a ball. 

And if what Pariah had said was true, if he’d been dancing with the King, stealing time from his search for a Consort… he could be executed. 

His movements became desperate, he had to get away. Away from the comfortable warmth of Pariah’s hold, from his endearing, enjoyable company, away from the looks and glances they’d shared the entire night, promises not quite made that could never have been kept. 

“Be still,” Pariah whispered into his ear, “there is no reason to try and hurt yourself. I don’t seek to keep you captive, only an explanation so I might find you again after this night.”

Clockwork fell limp in the King’s hold, his eyes never once leaving the hand of the clock above them. “It’s too late.”

The clock struck midnight, and the magic left. It dripped away, pooling and running down his body only to dissipate entirely once it touched the ground, taking every bit of finery with it. 

Leaving a pauper in the King’s arms.

Arms that tightened around him, suddenly more desperate and Clockwork struggled not to flinch. He was turned around to meet Pariah’s eyes when he asked, “Will you disappear next?”

Clockwork froze, uncertain of how to respond. He chose his words carefully, making sure not to struggle too much lest Pariah assume he was trying once more to break his grip. 

“I will not disappear, the illusion was only my dress and the carriage I used to arrive.” 

The grip lightened slightly, and Pariah looked thoughtful for a moment. His eyes never once left Clockwork’s face, the torn and filthy rags he called clothes didn’t even seem to cross the King’s mind. He neither looked at Clockwork with disgust nor contempt. His gaze hadn’t changed at all from earlier in the night when Clockwork had been dressed in jewels and finery. 

Clockwork didn’t know how to react to that. 

“Then you have no way home for the evening.” 

“Nonsense, I can simply walk. It’s less than ten miles and my shoes are no longer glass.” 

Pariah looked down and Clockwork followed his gaze to his decidedly still glass shoes. Ah, that was troublesome. Pariah smiled, and Clockwork once more tried to take a step back. This attempt was no more successful than the others however and instead Pariah seemed to take it as a cue to start dancing again. With a man in rags. Rags and glass shoes. 

“Since you have no way home there is no reason you cannot stay the night at my castle,” Pariah offered casually. 

Clockwork smiled, his brain working a mile a minute. While Pariah might be King, and certainly had power over everyone in the kingdom including Clockwork’s own masters, there was no telling when he might bore of Clockwork and cast him aside. And the punishment he’d receive for his deceit, it was unthinkable. He’d already almost lost an eye, next they might saw off a foot, determined to keep him in place and unable to ever try dancing again. King or no.

“I’m afraid I’m expected at home.” His masters might not notice his absence stumbling home drunk tonight, but they certainly would come morning when he wasn’t there to nurse their hangovers and be dealt their abuse. 

“Then I will take you there in my personal carriage-“

“No!” That would definitely be noticed. 

Pariah quirked a brow, trying to catch Clockwork’s eyes while he ducked to hide behind a curtain of his ratty white hair. “You seem quite desperate to refuse any comfort for someone who used magic to sneak into a ball.”

He flushed, embarrassed. “I just wanted…” What did he want? To see the King? No, he’d never cared for royalty or titles. He didn’t particularly care for finery either, the riches around him fun to marvel at but hardly moving or enough to make him desperate, to seek out magic and the arts of the mind. “I wanted to dance. Just a night away…”

A soft touch at his chin tilted his face up. The emotions he never wanted anyone to see on full display while Pariah’s hand moved to cup his cheek, a thumb softly caressing the scar threaded across his cheek. 

“Away from what?”

He couldn’t say. Every instinct beat and carved into him held his tongue still before accusing his masters of anything at all. He tried to shake his head but Pariah lifted his other hand and placed it along Clockwork’s other cheek, cradling his face gently. “Clockwork… it’s an interesting name, isn’t it? I had wondered if perhaps such names were more common in foreign lands but that isn’t it at all is it?”

“It’s the only name I have-“

“They hurt you,” Pariah whispered, his voice soft and his thumb caressing once more against his scar, “and they call you a thing.”

Clockwork’s chest hurt, it was too much, like his emotions were water pouring into a clay bowl, brimming over and close to breaking it with the pressure. He felt a tear fall from his eye and he felt as Pariah wiped it away. He couldn’t speak, he couldn’t move, the only thing he could do was keep Pariah’s gaze and try not to fall apart. 

There was no way he figured all of that out just from a name and a scar. Was there? His situation couldn’t possibly be that unique. 

Clockwork glared up at the King, silent and frustrated. It wasn’t like he’d had a choice, he didn’t decide to be nothing, a slave bound to the whims of his masters. 

“You won’t be going back there tonight,” Pariah said, causing Clockwork’s heart to sink. “You won’t be going back there at all in fact, since you’ll be too busy spending your time with me instead.” 

“Why would I be doing that, your majesty?”

Pariah smiled. “You’ll have to. To properly prepare for our wedding.” 

…. Oh.