The princess dropped her golden ball in the well. Birthday present from her dad. One slip and it was gone.
She cried. Not princess-crying. The real kind where your face puffs up and your nose runs.
"That's a lot of noise for a ball," said a voice.
Frog. Sitting on the rim. Not cute. Green, wet, eyes bulging.
"Can you get it?"
"Yeah. But I want to eat at your table, sleep on your pillow, and be treated like I matter."
"Fine. Yes. Whatever."
She said it fast. Already planning to forget. He dove in, came back with the ball. She grabbed it and ran.
That night. Wet slapping sound on the stairs. Knock knock.
"You made a promise."
Her dad looked up from dinner. She told him about the deal.
"You made a promise. Open the door."
The frog came in. Sat at the table. Ate carefully, neatly, like someone who knows they're not welcome.
After dinner: "The pillow."
"No."
"You promised."
Her dad gave her the look. She carried the frog upstairs.
"Thank you," he said.
"Don't."
"I know this isn't what you wanted."
"You have no idea."
"I know you wanted the ball more than you wanted to keep your word. Most people do."
Nobody talked to her like that. Just said the plain thing to her face.
"Who are you?"
"Right now? A frog."
"Before?"
"Someone who broke a promise. A big one. This is what that looks like."
She didn't sleep. Lay there listening to him breathe. Tiny little breaths.
He wasn't rude about any of it. He just asked for dinner and a pillow. Not love. Just don't throw me away the second you get what you want.
In the morning he was sitting on the pillow watching the sun come up.
"Nice, this," he said. "The morning."
She looked at him and for the first time actually saw him. Not the skin. Him.
She touched the top of his head. Gently.
He changed. Slowly. Skin warming, shape shifting. A man, sitting on her pillow, looking at his hands.
"For what?" she said.
"For keeping the promise when you didn't want to."
Goodnight.