Once upon a time, in a quiet village just beyond the castle's hills, a widowed cobbler and his daughter had made their home. 

It was a simple life they shared, filled with storybooks and laughter. And shoes. Many, many, many pairs of shoes. 

Though he was not a wealthy man, the cobbler did the best a single father could to provide all the comforts a young girl could wish for.

While they may not have been able to afford much in the way of travel or finery, young Ella never felt a lack, for she could scarcely imagine a place more wondrous than her father's workshop, where it seemed all things could be made new.

"A little know-how and a little love," he would often tell her.

With these two things, Ella believed just about anything was possible.

Her father certainly wasn't about to dissuade her from the notion. To him the world turned on Ella's smiles. And to Ella, the world revolved around her father.

Together they made the most perfect pair in the workshop. The two hearts behind the soles.

It was a simple life and a happy life at that.

When she wasn't in school, Ella found her own ways to help around the shop, tidying the shelves and greeting each customer in need of her father's handiwork with a smile.

There was none so frequent or favorite a customer than her friend Tomas.

Tomas DuPont and his shoes were an ever present fixture in her life. It seemed more often than not that no sooner had Tomas had his shoes repaired would he be back again with another broken pair in hand.

Many might have characterized him as careless, known for traipsing through the riverbed or scuffling up the nearest tree without thought of discarding his footwear, but Ella never felt that description quite apt.

No, the way Ella saw it, Tomas was just a boy with an adventurer's heart. 

"It's your father's craftsmanship. They're so comfortable I forget I have them on," Tomas confessed to her once as he brought in a particularly water-warped tangle of leather. "Unlike these wretched jackets my mother is always making me wear."

Ella could not help but smile at her friend's comical grimace of distaste.

The DuPont family was the leading purveyor of fine textiles and tailoring for the county dating back at least four generations, their creations renowned even among the gentry. All of which was lost on poor Tomas, who cared more about wrangling tadpoles than taffeta.

"Perhaps you should try designing your own," she suggested.

"Oh, but then I would have to spend all my time learning about drafting patterns and bias cutting. And the pins! There's always so many pins. Complaining with you sounds much more enjoyable," Tomas grinned cheekily.

Somehow she couldn't help but agree. Hearing the tales of Tomas's antics had become one of her favorite pastimes. He reminded her in a way of the plucky heroes from her storybooks. Although Jack never seemed to have any trouble keeping his shoes in one piece while scaling that beanstalk.

Taking the mangled footwear from him, Ella called out towards the back of the workshop, "Papa! Tomas brought back another pair."

Her father's exaggerated, world weary sigh from behind the curtained doorway sent the two of them sputtering in suppressed giggles.

"Again? That's the third pair this month. Lad, one of these days I'm going to start sewing bells on these toes."

"Then you'll at least hear me coming," Tomas replied, struggling to compose himself.

"And we'll be all the merrier for it," her father insisted as he came to the counter to inspect the damage. 

He hummed and nodded thoughtfully. "Just no fishing trips until I can nurse these back to life, yeah?"

Tomas saluted him in confirmation before giving Ella a little wave and exiting the shop, only to double back through the door to retrieve his coin purse from the counter with a sheepish, lopsided grin.

Her father let out another sigh, shaking his head. "Good lad, that friend of yours. Shame he'd forget his own head if it wasn't attached." 

Ella smiled as she watched Tomas amble down the street. She wouldn't say it was a shame at all.

As the years went on and Tomas and Ella grew, so too did their fondness for one another. 

While the DuPonts did their best to wrangle their son out of the riverbeds and into an apprenticeship, Tomas still found a way to satiate his adventuring heart and sully his shoes in the process.

"And how did you manage it this time?" Ella wondered as Tomas plunked down a pair of riding boots with a broken heel.

He grinned sheepishly, producing a bouquet of wildflowers from behind his back.

"Climbing the bluffs to pick these," he admitted.

Ella smiled admiringly at the blooms, dipping her head shyly as she accepted them.

"Awful lot of trouble for flowers," she managed as she turned in search for a proper vessel to keep them in.

"They're some of your favorites, aren't they?" Tomas replied knowingly.

"Yes..." 

"Then they were worth the trouble," he assured her.

Ella rolled her eyes fondly as she retrieved a water jug from a shelf, feeling her cheeks flush to match the dusty hue of the blossoms. 

But then Tomas had that effect on her lately. Beyond their usual chats over repairs they had recently taken to meeting more intentionally in town. There had been picnics amidst the old orchard trees, long walks along the riverbed, stolen kisses beneath the willow…

Ella hazarded a glance over her shoulder as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. There was a softness to his eyes when he looked at her now that made her stomach flutter and her head spin.

Somewhere along the way, through all the scrapes and shoe repairs, the accident prone boy she'd known had come into his own and stood before her a young man with the world awaiting him. 

Yes, he was still the same old Tomas, the boy who could always make her smile. And yet…

Seeing him now, looking at her like that, those childhood days seemed very far away.

Ella cleared her throat as she arranged the flowers in the jug on the countertop, giving a nod towards his boots. "Papa is out at the market presently but I can have that heel fixed for you in a few minutes if you don't mind the wait."

It was a simple job and she'd picked up a few skills of her own over the years. 

Tomas smiled easily in that same lopsided way she'd grown to love, resting his elbows on the counter comfortably. "Only if you don't mind the company."

Ella patted the counter in invitation as she pulled up a stool and began gathering the tools she would need.

"How is your father?" Tomas asked, more serious this time.

Ella hesitated as she looked through a box of prefabricated heels for a suitable match.

"He has his good days and bad days," she replied finally.

Though he had been doing his best to hide it from her, she'd noticed her father's hands were beginning to slow, his once steady, seemingly effortless craftsmanship beginning to falter. 

Arthritis, he claimed. Or a change in the weather. But she knew it was more than that. He grew tired much more easily in the past few months than ever before. His strength, less reliable. And yet he put on a smile for her and carried on as always.

Tomas put a hand gently over hers, stilling her work. 

"You know you can always talk to me about it if you need to, Ella," he told her softly. "He's like family to me too. Heavens, I practically grew up in this shop."

"Well, you always were our best customer," Ella teased halfheartedly, earning her a self-deprecating chuckle.

After a moment, she whispered "Thank you."

Tomas gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.

"Speaking of family," he ventured, changing the subject while idly tracing circles around her thumb, "my parents are holding a ball in celebration of my sister's debut in a few weeks. I couldn't help but think that it would be much more tolerable if you were there…"

"I thought those sorts of things were usually reserved for courtiers and the like."

"Oh my mother has been planning the whole grand debut to the court with my aunt and uncle for years, but Father wants to host a ball for the town. Says it's good business to socialize with your neighbors. So I suppose this is more of a pre-debut ball, if you will."

She nodded understandingly. "Brigitte wanted a practice run on her curtseying before she had to do it in front of the monarchy?"

Tomas shrugged, rolling his eyes. "I think that's why Mother agreed to it at least."

Ella smiled despite herself.

"So will you come? I know I've made these sort of events out to be dreadful in the past but they really can be rather fun with the right people. And God knows I'd much prefer to spend an evening with you and your father than those stuffy Lords Mother is always going on about. There's music and dancing. I think Madame LaFae is planning on ordering those little cakes from my birthday last year as part of the menu…"

He looked at her pleadingly, searching her face.

"It sounds wonderful," Ella sighed. "But I worry Papa won't be up for it."

"What's this I'm not up for?"

Tomas removed his hand from hers and stood up straight, putting a more respectable distance between them as her father entered from the back of the workshop.

"My parents are hosting a ball for the town, sir. In honor of Brigitte's debut. I wanted to invite the both of you personally," Tomas answered.

"Of course we'll be there," her father asserted. "We'd be honored to celebrate your little sister's foray into society. After all, the DuPonts have paid the lion's share of our earnings over the past twenty years."

He gave Tomas a friendly wink, then paused when he noticed the boots on the countertop.

"Didn't I just fix those for you last week?"

Tomas cleared his throat. "Yes sir, I believe you did. Although it was the other heel this time. You know my history of misestimating the terrain."

"I was just fixing it, Papa," Ella informed him.

"Fair enough. Gives me time to put these away at my leisure." Her father shrugged, adjusting the packages in his hands. "Oh, Ella dear, before I forget, Claude had some of those turnovers you like at the market today. Thought you might be hungry."

He placed a parchment wrapped parcel on the counter next to her, kissing the top of her head.

Ella smiled softly. "Thank you, Papa."

Her father nodded and turned to take care of his other purchases but stopped in the doorway as a coughing fit wracked his body, halting his steps.

"Mr. Rousseau?" Tomas stepped forward to help but her father waved him off.

"I'm fine. I'm fine. The trees this time of year…" he croaked lightheartedly, straightening himself. "Please pass along our acceptance to your parents invitation. Meanwhile, we'll get those boots of yours looking like new and ready before your morning ride."

Tomas hesitated, glancing at Ella, concern in his eyes, but sensed it was a dismissal he couldn't easily ignore. 

"Yes, sir."

Nodding to the two of them, Tomas took his leave.

"Good lad, that friend of yours," Her father said approvingly, clearing his throat. "Now then, I'll get you some polish for those boots."

"Papa, are you sure you wouldn't like to take some time to rest?" Ella suggested, setting her work aside to turn towards him.

"Nonsense, my dear. Just a bit of hay fever. Nothing to fret over." 

Her father smiled reassuringly as he hugged her about the shoulders. "Now where did I put that polish…"

Ella sighed as she watched her father putter off into the back of the shop, shaking her head with worry. 

And yet as she took up her work again, the dusty blooms upon the counter caught her eye and, for a moment, drew her out of the dark cloud that was beginning to hang heavy on her heart. 

A ball really did sound wonderful…

Picking up a hammer to begin her repairs, Ella blinked at the broken heel which barely hung on to the boot by a single bent nail. 

Leave it to Tomas…

And yet she couldn't help but smile.