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Ohoho happy upcoming birthday!! I offer ye Ever After (1998)'s first meeting scene between Danielle and Prince Henry for a sandman au! I'm Dreamling trash so that's where my thoughts went first but whatever pairing tickles your fancy is good~

The Scene:

Henry is running away from the palace and the arranged marriage to the princess of Spain that his father has arranged to ally France with the other country. Henry hates the notion of becoming king let alone wedding a stranger so he flees in the night. By morning he's fleeing from his father's guards who are pursuing him and steals a horse from an estate he happens upon.

Danielle (aka Cinderella) is treated like a servant by her widowed stepmother and is out harvesting apples in the early morning hours before attending to her breakfast chores when one of her father's horses comes tearing through the field with a strange rider upon its back. Danielle, having always been a rough-and-tumble sort, takes aim and nails the rider in the head with one of the apples she was carrying, knocking the would-be thief off the horse.

Henry climbs back to his feet, flailing to free himself from where he's now entangled by his cape as he continues to be pelted by apples and berated for his theft. He finally frees himself from his cloak and upon his face being revealed the peasant (Danielle) drops to the ground begging his forgiveness for the assault citing a lack of recognition. Henry's still dumbstruck at the peasant's aim and strong arm when he hears his father's guard approaching in the distance and quickly dismisses the apologies and begged for mercy. He tells the peasant that so long as no mention of his passing is made, he will forget the transgression while also tossing the peasant some gold 'for the cost of the horse'

The fun bit about this I realized is that this movie and I are the same age xD Very fitting for today!

Anyways, here's our second prompt for the day!! This one was fun to write. I know you'd messaged me with other possible pairing and the idea of Dream and Johanna really stuck out to me for this one, so without further ado, here's our Ever After AU:

Relationship: Dream/Johanna Words: 1953 Warnings: None Ao3 Link

The fierce sound of hooves on the ground echo through the woods behind Dream. He sits atop a horse he’s claimed from the nearby stable. He planned to flee by foot or take is own steed, Jessamy, but there wasn’t time. His father’s guards were gaining on him and he refused to go back. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t.

The borrowed horse whinnies, shaking it’s neck and fighting against Dream’s commands. Dream can hear the distant shouts. They’re getting closer. He rides over the hills of the estate he’s passing through when something hard crashes against his head. He lets go of the reigns and watches as the treeline shifts in his vision. The sky tilts until it is directly above him. His back aches.

He’s fallen off the horse. Dream groans and tries to push himself up when another object, small and round, smacks him square in the nose. His hands shoot up, covering the aching point as he shouts in pain. More and more, he’s attacked, points of pain popping across his body as he’s pelted down by an unseen force. He struggles, trying to stand, but his damn cloak is twisted around him, pinning him into the dirt with his own weight. He shifts, trying to pry the fabric off of him.

“Filthy thief!” A woman’s voice cries out somewhere to his right. The cloak finally slips free and he lunges to his feet only to be met with an… an apple? His brain processes the shape just seconds before it decks him in the cheek. His head ducks down from the impact and it’s then that he realizes how many apples are scattered around him.

When he looks back up, the woman stands directly in front of him, a finger pushed firm into his chest. She is angry, judging by the pinch of her brows, the snarl in her lips. Not to mention the apple assault he just received from her. Her shoulder-length brown hair is pulled half up, though appears just moments from falling out completely. Her dress is simple - a maid, perhaps? Or a servant to the estate?

“Who do you think you are running off with another man’s horse? You’re lucky he knows his way home or else you’d be much worse off from me!” She cries, jabbing her finger right into his breast bone. Dream frowns and opens his mouth to reply when the sound of hooves rings through the small orchard they’ve found themselves in. He blanches.

Quickly, he grabs her hand and falls to his knees in front of her. “Please,” he begs, staring up at the woman with desperation in his eyes. “Hide me, please. I beg of you.”

“Why the hell should I-” She stops mid-sentence. Her face falls and fear creeps into the edges of her eyes. “Shit. You’re the prince.” The young maiden’s head whips towards the sounds of the oncoming cavalry and back to him, to the noise, and back again.

“I will pay you well, but please, we must hurry. I cannot go back.” Dream pleads. The woman stares down at him with a calculating gaze, as if mentally tallying if hiding him was worth the effort. Perhaps word has already spread of his escape, but surely a reward for his return has yet to be officially declared?

The sounds of hooves grows louder with each passing second and Dream is mentally preparing to flee when the young maiden tugs him forward with the hand in his own grasp. He nearly face-plants into the earth from the sudden movement, but she hauls him up to his feet with a practiced ease. When he looks up, her face has morphed into one of mischief.

“Well come on then, Crown Prince. You’re luxurious hiding spot awaits,” She says with a smirk. He barely has time to process her words before he’s being dragged off further into the orchard. They run, down the gradual rolling hill, weaving between the trees and past the chicken coop. The sound of the guards has faded. Dream smiles. Perhaps he’ll make it a few days more.

The young maiden guides him towards a barn further into the fields. It is run down, the paint worn away by the heat of the summer sun and the door at the front appears off-kilter. It is a stark contrast to the other amenities they’ve seen so far on the Estate. They slow their pace to a walk as they approach the weary looking building.

“Home Sweet Home, your highness,” she says, creaking open the barn door. It makes a terrible wobbling screech as it sways open. The inside is nearly empty, save some bundles of hay, rope, and pitchforks. Clearly this barn wasn’t a high priority. Perhaps it served as an overflow of sorts?

Dream steps through the doors into the cool shade of the building. It smells like fresh hay with a musky undertone. It is not unpleasant, but far from the best he’s smelled before. Though his prior night was spent tucked in the corner of an empty horse stall, so he supposes this is quite the improvement. He turns to her. She is standing under the doorway, hand on a cocked hip as she stares him down.

“Thank you, milady. I owe you a great debt.” Dream nods his head. Not a full bow, but more than most royalty would have offered someone of her status. Although, perhaps she is owed a bow now if he truly plans to rescind his royal status. He would be no different in standing to her, after all. Perhaps even lower for he does not even have a job. The thought strikes him that he is no different than those he used to look down upon. He is penniless, or close to it. The small supply of coin he has will only get him so far. The clothes upon his back, perhaps a bit farther if sold for coin. But what would he do now? He has escaped, for the meantime, though he doubts his father would ever truly let him leave. Would he always be on the run? Would he ever be able to settle down, find a life for himself as he dreamed of? The realization of his life, the known and unknowns of his future, it is much. And it’s hitting him all at once.

“Hey,” the maiden’s gentle voice calls out. There is a hand on his chest and another holding his own hand. “Hey, easy there, Christ. I know this barn’s about as far as you get from all your silks and furs, but it’s not that bad, is it?” She is attempting to joke. He knows this yet he cannot stop the panicked breaths in order to laugh.

“Shit,” he hears her say. His hand is moved up and rests just above her heart. She is warm. The fabric underneath is softer than he had expected. “Just breathe, yeah? Follow my breath. In.” She breathes in and he follows. It is a shuddering thing, but it is deeper than he had managed before. “Out.” She releases her breath, her chest falling. He follows, out the air goes.

They repeat this. In. Out. In. Out. And with each breath, he feels calmer. He can breathe again. His hand still rests upon her as hers does him. Her face is close, he notes, as he looks up. They are but inches from each other. Her deep brown eyes stare into his with a care he has not seen aimed his way in… Dream is unsure how long.

“Better?” She asks, brows pinched with concern. Dream nods, slowly. He feels drained.

“Yes, I…” He takes a deep breath and releases it, the final bits of tension flowing out along side it. “I apologize, I do not know what came over me.”

The young maiden looks at him with that critical gaze once more before letting her hand drop from his chest. Dream follows in suit. “S’alright. Not like anyone ever chooses to have a panic attack.”

Dream’s brows furrow. “I did not-”

“Yeah mate, you definitely did.” She cuts him off with a knowing look. Dream does not fight her on it. They stay silent for a moment before she speaks again. “Wanna tell me why I’m hiding the Crown Prince in the old barn?”

The young maiden moves, walking further into the barn. Dream watches, following behind, as she makes her way over to an old table. It is short, a coffee table perhaps, but still sturdy despite it’s dusty appearances. She sits down at the edge of it and tilts her head, gesturing to the other end. Dream sits.

“I was told I was to marry. My father wished to use me for strengthening our relations with Spain. And while I have no ill-will towards the Princess Calliope, I… I did not love her. I barely knew her. One should wish to marry for love. If my father had allowed us time to become acquainted with one another, perhaps I could have found love for her, but he did not allow me even that, even after I had asked.

“I was set to be married in a week’s time. It was not the sole reason, but perhaps the final straw. I never wished to be King as it is. And given my father’s declining health, I knew it would only be a matter of time until the crown was passed to me. And I couldn’t…” Dream sighs. He lets his head fall, his gaze staring down into his mud covered boots. “I just want to be free.”

The young maiden doesn’t reply. Perhaps she’d call him foolish, selfish. It was what he was. He had responsibilities, ones given to him upon his birth. In exchange, he lived in luxury, yet he still wished more more, for something other. Maybe she’d echo the words his father repeated many times. That Dream was pathetic, that he needed to grow up and learn that the real world doesn’t play by the rules of fantasy.

“Good. Everyone should get that choice. You should too.” Dream’s head whips up to hers. She’s staring out at the slightly open barn door with a distant look upon her face. “There’s enough shit in the world to deal with as is. No one should have to deal with being something they don’t want to be. Besides,” she turns to him, that same mischievous look on her face once more. “Sounds like you’d have made a shit King.”

Dream huffs, the closest thing to a laugh he’s had in years. “You are not wrong.” He mumbles, a smile finding home upon his face. “Thank you.”

“Welcome.” She sighs as she hauls herself to her feet. The maiden’s hands dust off the back of her dress as she looks at him. “Feel free to stay here as long as you want. No one save me comes out here.”

A weight he did not realize was on him lifted at her words. He has shelter now, at least for a while. “That is exceedingly kind of you.”

She shrugs. “So, if you’re officially ditching the monarchy, what do I call you? Morpheus?”

Dream shakes his head. “No. That was the name given to me by my father. Call me Dream.”

“Dream, can do.”

“And what might I call you, fair maiden?”

The woman laughs. “Oh Gods, fair maiden. Yeah, no. You can keep that term to yourself. Name’s Johanna. Or Jo. Mainly Jo.”

Dream smiles. “Jo. Thank you.”

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