Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

On the alcove of a window sat Mirabel, who was people-watching. You could say it was her favorite thing to do aside from working at the goldsmith's workshop. Looking at people of different walks of life, living under the lord’s strict reign. She turned to look at her aunt, who noticed her niece and replied with a warm smile. With this eye contact her aunt seemed to recall something, 

"Oh Bell, did I tell you your father's coming home today?" She informed while knitting. 
"No, really?" Mirabel's sad eyes lit up, but realization hit her. ‘Father’s visit will most likely be brief – as always.’ He worked for Lord Farquaad, diligently so. Being the guard captain meant nonstop work, and in result Mirabel was practically raised by her paternal aunt. 

Sighing, she returned to her hobby of inspecting people, until a familiar figure had her squinting. “It’s pa!” Mirabel jumped from the windowsill, and ran down the stairs, holding her dress for better mobility. Her excitement was that of a little girl, but the ‘little girl’ was already 21. She stood impatiently, and familiar heavy footsteps were to be heard. Her father’s dark figure formed on the glass panel, and he opened the door. 

“There’s my girl!” he said with genuine cheerfulness, but appeared exhausted. Mirabel squealed in excitement as she hugged her father as tightly as possible. 

“Oh my Mirabel, I’ve got some great news for you! Go sit down, let me get rid of this work attire first. I’ll be in the kitchen shortly.” 

“...Hmm?” She gave her father a sideways glance, who released her from the embrace. Nonetheless, she took a seat in the kitchen along with her aunt. Mirabel looked over at her to see if she had any clue of what is to follow, but she only shrugged. It’s been a few days since her father last left for duty, so Mirabel’s impatience for these news were most understandable. 

“Alright, so...” he appeared in the kitchen with a washcloth momentarily rubbing on his face. He pulled out a chair and took a seat. “I informed the Lord about your profession,” he held a brief pause for suspense. “...he agreed to let me introduce you to him!” 

Stunned silence followed, like a pin-drop. Mirabel didn’t reciprocate to his enthusiasm, and was truthfully a bit baffled. These news were... the least expected. In her family, their loyalty for Lord Farquaad wasn’t particularly strong, but as citizens of Duloc they were used to the orders – what else could they do? 

“What? Derek, that’s insanity!” Mirabel's aunt blurted, who has always been a bit of an oppositionist. He shot a stinging glare at his sister, and turned back to Mirabel. 

“Mirabel, now’s your time to shine! Think about it. Your goldsmithing no longer limited to the workshop, but potentially expanded to the head of Duloc!” He leaned over closer and gripped her shoulders, smiling proudly. 

“I...” A thousand thoughts and emotions ran through her head – why, what, when? This could be the highest of privileges, but is she ready for such high stakes? On the other hand, this could also be a chance to be closer to her father and his mentality, as Duloc Castle was all he’s surrounded by. 

“Sure...!” Mirabel initally answered on a whim, with a hint of doubt in her voice. 

“Ah great! I’m so proud of you. I’m sure he’ll be fond of your talent and knowledge, don’t worry." Derek reassured, knowing the impression everyone has of the lord. “Now, shall we make some supper?” 

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Mirabel fell onto her bed, with long strawberry-blonde curls practically engulfing her pillow. She barely did anything today, aside from helping prepare food, but it was probably the arrival of her father that mentally exhausted her– and the news that followed. The tension between her father and aunt were very present the rest of the day, and she can currently hear faint sounds of arguing downstairs. Her aunt is most likely confronting him about earlier, and his loyalty to Lord Farquaad. But he doesn't have much of a choice, anyway. She was beginning to doubt her decision, but life is about taking chances, right? ‘But the lord's extreme eye for perfection... If he actually accepts me as a personal jeweler, he’s not going to decapitate me if I mess something up a little, is he? Father is the guard captain after all.’ The indecisiveness was nearly driving her sleepless, so she rolled over, slipped under the covers and shut her eyes.

Chapter Text

Early morning sun didn’t wake Mirabel up this time, but rather her father. He stood behind her bedroom door, knocking vigorously. “Good morning, Bell! Time to get up now.” 

‘What’s the hurry...’ she thought to herself, until her brain fog cleared and she recalled today’s plans. Mirabel dragged herself off from bed, splashed water on her face, switched to a light puff-sleeve dress with stripes and headed downstairs. 

“Hey, here’s some porridge for my girl.” It’s impressive how Derek holds a joyful facade, despite probably being exhausted from constant duty. You’d think home is where one can strip their formality off. 

Mirabel walked past her father with a faint smile. “Not so talkative this morning?” 

“I’m just tired.” She still felt a bit of resentment for her father arranging a meeting without her consent. “And thank you.” She was grateful he was home for once, and actually making breakfast. 

Mirabel dug into her porridge, “...How is the lord? ...Is there some sort of etiquette to take note of? Is he easily pissed? I’m a bit nervous.” she mustered up the courage to ask questions that she had dwelled on. Derek’s expression shifted to a sympathetic one, understanding his daughter’s genuine concern. 

“Hey, don’t be scared. As the guard captain, Lord Farquaad treats me with the most respect I’m pretty sure – so you’re safe with me. He’s... decently tempered when he wants to be. You have manners, don’t you? So follow that, but not as professionally as me –  I act as a captain should.” Derek chuckled to lighten the mood. Mirabel felt more eased after his reassurance, and appreciated the genuine, rare advice from her father. 

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Derek practically dragged her to the Duloc Castle. She couldn't detest – it was her father's way of showing love after all. Their relationship was somewhat disconnected because of his lack of affection. This was perhaps due to shame of rarely seeing his daughter. He often talked solely about duty and barely engaged in emotional, deep talks with Mirabel. When they were serious, it was very superficial. Offering her an amazing opportunity – an opportunity to shine – what better could a father do? To him, this was the best he could do. 

With each step, Mirabel’s hands got clammier. They walked through the large wooden gates with forged details, up-close and past guards in their post, who stared at them. She was nervous, ‘But at least I look presentable. I hope.’ Mirabel had never seen Lord Farquaad up close, surprisingly since her father has the highest rank in knightdom. Mayhaps personal visitations were limited to the most fortunate people. 

They stopped by a couple knights who were walking in the hallway. “Where’s Lord Farquaad?” their captain asked. It’s always surprising to see her father engage with the other knights, the authority he has over them is very visible. "Uhhh” the knights tried to recall in unison, until footsteps from behind were to be heard. Derek and Mirabel turned around and, coincidentally, there the lord was. He was strutting down the hall, paired with a large... torturer? Executioner? To Derek and the knights this was a typical sight, but Mirabel was clueless as to how to proceed next. She was flustered to finally be in the lord's presence. 

When Lord Farquaad and his henchman came closer, she was genuinely taken aback by his height, but tried to hold a neutral composture. All the portraits, sculptures and high stands had him look... taller! ‘He does have the raven hair all right... icy blue eyes, strong jaw and torso...’   

“Ahh, morning captain!” Farquaad turned to Mirabel, “And...” She was so dumbfounded she nearly forgot to curtsy. “Oh right, this is Mirabel, my daughter.” Derek said, while she brought herself up from bowing. “Your daughter, well...” he eyed Mirabel up and down attentively while clasping his hands. “You’re the jeweler, isn’t that right?”  

“That’s right.” she said, internally facepalming. ‘Did that sound stupid? Was that too formal? Damn it, I should’ve said more.’   

With that, Lord Farquaad took Mirabel’s hand and placed a gentle kiss on her knuckle. “Nice to meet you.” he said with a sly smile. Mirabel nearly panicked inside, blushing, while the others in the space are unphased. Is this typical royal etiquette? 

“Why don’t we head to one of the conference rooms to discuss this further. Thenlonious!” Farquaad’s voice suddenly boomed, which caught the attention of the executioner. “Yes m’lord.” He started to lead their group down the hallway. 

Chapter Text

The conference room they entered in was filled with assortments of banners, royal blue and square shapes – not a sign of roundness to be seen. There was a long wooden table, in which Farquaad gestured Derek to take a seat on the end. Derek nodded his head at Mirabel to sit on the side, between him and Farquaad. Thelonius stood with a pillow in hand, and after Farquaad cleared his throat, he placed the pillow on the lord’s seat. 

He scooped in closer to the table. “Perfect.” 

...

“So about this deal, I know the local goldsmith of Duloc. Mr. Schmuck, you’re probably familiar with him.” Farquaad inquired. 

“Yes...” Mirabel realized her voice was shaky and nearly inaudible, “Yes, he’s my mentor, and taught me the world of precious metals. He is to thank for my skill, and I’ve done this trade for 6 years.” 

“I see... A personal jeweler wouldn’t be so bad.” Farquaad pondered out loud, calculating, with fingers intertwined. “It’s good Duloc offers all kinds of professions, professions that are allowed in law, that is. Alright. To test your adequate skill, you get a task. I need you to make me a crown with 12 jewels, and I’ll see if you’re eligible as my personal jeweler. I’m going to provide you with whatever gems and precious metals are required. The rest is up to you. Do you accept?” 

She was undeniably nervous, with such a task and all eyes in the room intently on her. But most of all, she doesn’t want to be a disappointment. “Yes, my lord.” She initially said with her chest, conveying confidence and wanting to make a good impression. 

“Good. They are imported from the best, most expensive mines in all the land, so be mindful of the materials you use. Now...” Farquaad pulled back from his chair, but nobody else dared to move. “You’ll be back on duty tomorrow captain, it’s training day for the rookies, I assume you know.” Derek responded with an affirmative, and shot up from his seat, saluting. All the order, gestures, repeated symbolism– Mirabel was certainly stumped on what to do. 

Everyone was leaving, until she realized one missing detail. She brainstormed whether to ask the lord for dimensions or figure it out herself, but she finally blurted it out; "Excuse me, my lord, but...” Farquaad, heading for the door, turned to her with a mildly surprised expression. “May I get your dimensions? For the crown...?” She tried to smile gently, 'I probably look so awkward right now.’  

“Goodness, I nearly forgot–” Farquaad waved for everyone to be out of the room. “Of course, they are essential. Captain, if you’ll excuse us for a moment. We'll pay a visit to the tailoring room. Right this way.” 

Mirabel gulped, her first meeting with the lord and she’ll already be left alone with him. 

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The two approached the 3rd floor, Mirabel’s graceful steps making her dress appear flowing. Lord Farquaad on the other hand, hopped each stair – being four-foot-tall after all. 

He briefly placed his hand on Mirabel’s back, guiding her to the right room. This made her jump subtly, but hopefully the lord didn’t give heed.  

“...Wow.” Mirabel whispered. The tailoring room was of shiny marbel, different fabrics draped over racks and massive mirrors stood in place. All the equipment one would need to tailor a man of high value, was here. After breaking out of her amazement, unprompted, she rushed to the desk and looked for a measuring tape. Lord Farquaad elevated himself up on a stool, and stood with arms behind his back. 

The lone girl sighed in relief after finding the tape, not wanting to make her lord any more impatient. She noticed Farquaad on the stool and held in a snicker, but frankly he appeared distinguished. His attitude definitely makes up for the short stature. 

Approaching Farquaad, Mirabel pictured this as another ordinary customer. This eased her mind, but not enough to cease the shaking. She brought her hands to Farquaad’s head, wrapping the tape around his hair to measure circumference. The hair was incredibly soft, well-kempt. 

“You’re shaking, my lady” Farquaad raises a singular eyebrow. “Are you so frightened to take my dimensions?” 

She was taken aback by his comments, more sweat forming on her forehead. “O-Of course not.” Farquaad’s warm breath blew on Mirabel’s forearms, which truthfully made her tense up further. Her lifelong solitude left her lacking of direct contact with people – especially men. This understandably had her blushing.

“Good...” He smugly smirks. “They must be absolutely perfect." Mirabel takes another measurement from behind, just in case. After releasing the wrapped tape from his head, and writing down on a note pad, Farquaad steps down. “I’ll be expecting my crown in 7 days – that is your deadline. Do I make myself clear?” Mirabel clasps her hands in front of her, just staring down at the lord. “Yes, my lord...” 

“Dulocians have heart, especially a guard captain’s daughter.“ he stated with either genuine consideration or fake praise, this is unclear. But the smug smile still persisted. “Good luck, my lady.” 

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Derek was waiting for his daughter at the lobby. She’s finally out of the intimidating place that is Duloc Castle, and caught a deep breath of relief– almost as if she was suffocated by smoke moments before. 

Chapter Text

Silence paired with steps on cobblestone and occasional clings of Derek’s armor, the walk back home was awkward to say the least. Derek couldn’t straightforwardly congratulate his daughter— there was a task to follow, which’ll prove Mirabel’s eligibility. Even though it wasn't yet proven, he felt guilty that his idea, first exciting, was potentially spoiled. 

Meanwhile Mirabel, walking a couple feet ahead, her graceful hand gripped her arm. She shuddered at what occurred before. Lord Farquaad can be so... humbling. It was nerve-wrecking to meet the man of Duloc, ‘He noticed me shake, god damn it!...But yet his gentle touches, breath on my skin. They were... curious. Gosh I’m touch-starved, this man will probably be the death of me, if I fail!’  

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To bring pride to her family, to her father, to boost her reputation— she headed to the workshop the same afternoon. Her mentor, Mr. Schmuck brought in a heavy wooden box, and set it on the nearest desk. 

“Now what’s this...?” he curiously asked, with timbre of an old, experienced man. Mirabel tiptoed courtly to him, “That’s mine, I’m assuming.” She turned the box towards herself, and noticed the label bearing Farquaad's symbol. ‘A-ha’ and unboxing ensued. 

Mr. Schmuck stood with hands on his sides, looking at his apprentice in a questioning manner. Mirabel caught this look of his, and laughed awkwardly. “Right, excuse me Mr. Schmuck, I’m just in a bit of a hurry. A very special commission, you see.” Mirabel said, and with that, practically beaming from the box, tons of precious jewels and gold sheets were revealed. Whether these were sourced ethically was besides her interests. Everything about Farquaad's business deals screams shady.

“What kind of special commission would require these?! ” Mr. Schmuck tilted forward while adjusting his glasses to avoid the shine. “ These ... are for Lord Farquaad. He wants a crown.” she mustered, not with the most pride because of the forthcoming unknown. “The lord himself?! Mirabel, how did you get such an opportunity?” he yelled in surprise, proud, but also perplexed by these unexpected news. He has done commissions for the lord, his castle and knights, but not to himself directly. 

“To prove my eligibility, sir. I’ve been offered a chance to be his personal goldsmith.” 

“Well that’s- that’s great! But... does that mean... no more Mirabel in my workshop?” 

“We don’t know that yet,” she chuckled, “maybe I’ll have to borrow resources and tools from here.” she reassured. Mr. Schmuck looked down, a little disappointed that his only apprentice could potentially leave. “I have to prove my worth, my skill to him. This is a big opportunity, so I just hope you pray for my success with this crown. You’ve taught me everything possible.” she placed her hand on the mentor’s shoulder. 

He sighs, “Very well, I’m sure you’ll do great. My teaching has paid off, I’ve seen your development so long, it’s certain.” Mr. Schmuck looked up, a smile spreading out his grey moustache. “You can manage, Mirabel.” 

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Mirabel braced herself for the big task, working on the lord’s crown. Independently. She tried to refrain her inner perfectionist, but maybe it’s necessary with such a commissioner who yearns for perfection. 

Thankfully, with either the preference of Farquaad or by pure coincidence, this crown was simple. It didn’t require arches, tons of gemstones or velvet set in place. 

For the next several days, she spent time sawing the long base and seperate fleur de lis on gold plates with a coping saw, the material proving to be as firm as silver, as it’s not pure. After patiently sawing, filing the symbols into perfection was required. 

On the 3rd day, Mirabel hammered patterns on the borders of the plate, with sweat on her brow. The next day she torched her subject throughoutly, before mending the crown into a circle with the help of whacking the plate onto a round object. It required many dips in acid, and multiple heating sessions. 

Mr. Schmuck arrived to the workshop on some days, and looked over her shoulder approvingly. Giving off encouragement with his looks, as if saying “I’m rooting for you.” 

Mirabel’s hardened fingertips – from years of goldsmithing – held the fleur de lis against light. She had meticulously, painstakingly set stones on these symbols, and it was time to solder them onto the base. 

At last, polished crown of gold, pointed with fleur de lis and garnished with rubies, sapphires and emeralds, lied on her workdesk. Tomorrow was the deadline, and Mirabel has to present her work. 

Chapter Text

As Mirabel’s father was on duty, she had to take a journey to Farquaad’s castle alone. Externally she seemed brave – has her whole life – but internally she is afraid. Anxiety left her heart beating as fast as a rabbit’s, and it intensified at the gates. ‘Help me God, for I’m surely going to have a heart attack.’  

With hunched shoulders, she cleared her throat at the guards. “Lord Farquaad’s crown.” she presented it. It was covered by a veil for the big reveal. Guards let her in at once. What a special privilege the crown held, to be let in just like that. 

The lord had such vague instructions, she hoped everything was clearly understood. The main thing was the crown, but which room does she even have to enter? Standing on the blue carpet of Duloc Castle’s hallway, it didn’t take long until one of Farquaad’s men came to her. “Come with me, miss.” He lead the girl down the hall with long steps, and despite Mirabel having long legs, she had trouble keeping up. 

The long journey through multiple corridors substituted for the thousands of stairs Farquaad had in his castle. When the man stopped at a door, Mirabel braced herself for what’s to come. Upon opening, she peeked at the lord from behind the man, who was attending to his duties on an escritoire. ‘He actually works and isn’t surrounded by servants all day...’   

She was lead into the large marbled room by the man, and internally yelped when the door was loudly shut behind her, but she kept her composure. Looking up, she saw banners subtly swaying on the walls. Fortunately she wasn’t left alone, and the man is in their company. As Farquaad noticed Mirabel, his stern, attentive face was shifted to a surprised one. He dropped his quill pen and rose from his seat, “Well afternoon Mirabel, right on time, just as promised. Bring it in, bring it in.” he said, with an excited smile forming on his face? 

Mirabel has typical Dulocian manners, but the formality of the situation was unclear to her. She had minimal experience with the lord, she wasn’t sure how formal to act— but tried her best. Gulping, she brought herself closer with the veiled pillow. 

“Is everything complete?” Farquaad looked up at Mirabel, with his fingers extending out enthusiastically. “Yes, my lord. I’ve inspected your crown a dozen times, in case of imperfections.” her eyes occasionally cast down at the floor, not managing to keep full eye contact with Lord Farquaad. He finally unveiled the crown, and let out a subtle gasp.  

To Mirabel, his first impression was promising, and the more her body relaxed. After he lifted the crown, she then started to bite her lip. “Hmm...” the lord examined the object carefully with furrowed brows. “Shiny. Precious. You captured my wishes well.” he declared with an ambiguous expression. Mirabel looked as his fingers explored, turned the crown delicately. She relaxed further, but then he began putting it on his head. 

Farquaad adjusted the crown to fit his head properly. “...My lady” his icy eyes suddenly bore hers, sending a chill down her spine. 

“Yes, my lord?” she asked, appearing calm, but internally eagerly begging ‘Please be gentle.’  

“I... have promising news for you.” he inched closer, his distinct scent now stronger to the girl. “I did not expect your level of articulation. It’s only fair to say you’ve proven your worth to me – your determination is notable. You managed to finish the task before the deadline, with immaculate results. Albeit... the jewels could be in another order – otherwise the fit is satisfactory, for now. The crown you’ve presented is of adequate skill. Congratulations, my lady.” 

“Oh... thank you, thank you my lord. It’s been a pleasure working for you.” Mirabel expirated, putting a hand over her heart with relief. 

“Speaking of work, you’ll be assigned your own room. As you’ll be residing in my castle, as my personal jeweler.” 

The truth of the situation hit her. It’s almost as if she forgot this was the potential outcome. While Farquaad stood there smiling – chest puffed and chin raised – it’s as if her life flashed before her eyes: all future plans now foggy, uncertain. Truthfully, she never even signed up for this, which made her all the more conflicted. It was an opportunity given to her by her father! With widened eyes and a grip on the velvet pillow, she could only muster the question; “Starting w-when?” 

“Oh you’ll be moving in as soon as possible. Lucky, you are. Your father will be thrilled, I’m sure!...” Farquaad said amused, his cape gracefully flinging as he turned around. “About time my castle had more beauty around.” He added, still turned, as if passing an ordinary comment. 

Mirabel stood there, almost floored at the out-of-pocket comment. The lord returned to his escritoire, the crown increasing his confidence. Twiddling his fingers, he adds; “After you gather your possessions, my men will escort you to your room. Think you can make the trip, my lady?” referencing the stairs.

“I-” 

“Good.” he smiled mischievously, his eyes fixated on Mirabel, until eventually returning to writing unphased. Standing in the middle of the room, despite being stumped on what to do next, Mirabel decided to curtsy at him, and headed towards the door. “My lady,” she heard from behind. “Congratulations again, miss Mirabel~.” How Farquaad toned the end of his sentence evoked even more strange feelings inside Mirabel. With a respectful nod, she exited the large room without Farquaad’s ally. 

Shortly after closing the door, with her anxieties off the roof, she brought her back against the door. She could finally exhale. Is this really happening? Is this actually, genuinely happening. ‘He accepted the crown! I’m Lord Farquaad’s... jeweler...’ The lord acted so... oddly in her presence; paying compliments, and even as bold as to act this way in front of his men. Never experiencing such, Mirabel was still unsure if this was especial or basic, courtly behavior. How his eyes bore into hers, it was hard to push these conflicted feelings aside. His scent, too. Lord Farquaad’s details replayed in her mind, all the little contacts—such as his hands reaching for the crown. ‘You shan’t let these infatuations get in the way of work, he’s your lord, for crying out loud! Get yourself together, Belle.’