#rip ella enchanted au though i’ll come back to her soon

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tragic: fan fic writer has the biggest urge to sit down and write all day, but must leave for work in fifteen minutes, and does not even have time to write a page

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Crutchie, Cursed: Chapter 1

So, here’s the first chapter of an Ella Enchanted AU that I accidentally fell in love with. A couple people seemed interested, so here’s the start of it. Basically, what happened is I started rewatching that movie last night and kept thinking how Newsies characters could fit in here. And then I texted my roommate and she just said, “Go for it, Ostrich.” I went for it. 

Also, as a side note, I have read the book, but back when I was in elementary school or junior high, so I have no memory of it. In other words, this will mostly be based around the movie. Which, also means that there will be some movie quotes in here because some of that dialogue is just too perfect to neglect. Plus, I have changed a couple of the scenes, settings, etc. It will all make sense, trust me. Do tell me how you like it, though! Reblogs and comments will encourage me to finish the next chapter sooner!

It wasn’t as if Crutchie hated his life. No, that wouldn’t be fair to say. There were lots of aspects of his life that he absolutely loved. His godmother, Medda, for one. His best friend, Katherine, of course. The fact that he was passing all his community college classes and had even managed to be recognized in his speech and debate class—although that was probably due to all of Katherine’s help—were definite pluses. Really, everything made his life just fine, all added together.

“Hey, crip! Get down here!”

Except, no, his life was not all that great, despite the smiles he faked. Years ago, Crutchie’s father died and his mother, a rather forgetful, hapless woman, never seemed to truly understand the impact of his death on her son. Sure, she had held him close and promised that everything would be okay. Crutchie wondered if she ever meant the promise, or if it had just been something nice to say to her hurting son. Only a couple months ago, she had remarried to a small, shriveled man by the name of Wiesel. She had explained that he had the money that their family needed, and, as much as Crutchie appreciated the full cupboards and the warm, plentiful meals, he almost wished they could go back to the time when he had gone to bed hungry, but had been happy. When it was just the two of them. Or, rather, when it was the three of them, and Crutchie had never foreseen the dark storms and heavy grief ahead of him.

“Move slower, ya stupid crip, I dare you!”

Wiesel had brought his two sons along with him: Oscar and Morris. While Morris tended to be quiet and brood in the corner of the room, a small black book in hand—Crutchie suspected it to be a collection of Poe’s poems, after he heard Morris mutter something about a sepulchre by the sea—and a quick frown for Crutchie whenever he entered the room, Oscar was more vocal with his dislike towards his new stepbrother. Both stepbrothers looked remarkably similar. They had dark brown hair and sported twin sneers, especially whenever Crutchie was present.

“I’m coming,” Crutchie said, trying to force his suddenly leaden limbs to move faster.

That was the other problem. Upon his birth, a benevolent—though, Crutchie wasn’t sure he quite agreed with that terminology—fairy granted him the gift of obedience. Which meant that Crutchie was stuck obeying every small command uttered around him. It had led to all sorts of unfortunate experiences, including, but not limited to, the time he punched a bully, the time he ate a worm, and the time he couldn’t tell anyone about the mean kids that teased and bullied Katherine for her big books and owlish glasses.

“Took you long enough,” Oscar remarked once Crutchie entered the living room. “Today we’re going to the rally for the Prince. I do not want to see your ugly mug there. Got it?”

Crutchie nodded, muttering under his breath, “Won’t be that hard with your eyesight.”

“What did you say?” Oscar challenged.

“Nothing. Have fun supporting a politician that has managed to destroy over a century’s peace. And all because he thought free labor would have no consequences, even though if he had ever taken the time to study a history book, he would see—“

“Shut up,” Oscar snapped.

Crutchie’s rant immediately stopped, all words dying in the back of his throat. His silence didn’t keep him from glaring at Oscar and Morris, as they headed out of the door, chattering eagerly about the Prince’s new hair style and how it compared to how he had worn it the previous spring.

Prince Jack was the talk among every citizen of marriageable age. The rumor was that the Prince would need to marry someone before he could actually be officially coronated and named King of New York, great land that it was. Men and women, alike, fawned over his deep, chocolate eyes and his wavy, brunette hair. Oscar had even been elected president of the Jack Fan Club that had been organized in Manhattan. Crutchie still scoffed whenever he entered his step-brother’s shared room and noticed the many posters of the Prince on the walls. Really, it was all a publicity stunt to distract the idiot townspeople from the atrocities being committed around them. And, much to Crutchie’s dismay, it was working.

A knock on the door interrupted Crutchie’s thoughts and he grinned when he saw his best friend waving through the window. “Hey, Kath,” he said, letting her bounce through the door.

“Okay, I painted all these great posters for the rally,” Katherine said, unrolling a poster that called for the end of ogrecide and equality among all. “I tried to see if Specs could come, but Romeo got sick, so it’s just going to be the two of us. Is that okay?” she asked, her eyes crinkling with worry behind the clear frames.

“Of course, Kath. And these look great.”

Katherine smiled. “Thanks, Crutch. Now we better get there before the mob of our great Prince’s fans manages to bring the rally to an end.”

King Snyder—for only a few short days more, until Prince Jack would be crowned the rightful King—stepped out into the bright sunshine. He blinked at the sudden sunlight, waving cheerfully to the crowd of people who had shown up to the rally for their King and Prince. He started speaking, but Crutchie wasn’t paying attention. He noticed that Oscar and Morris were at the front of the group of Jack’s fans, homemade hearts pinned to their chests. Oscar’s head started to turn and Crutchie reacted instinctively. Crutchie immediately ducked behind a pillar, his body acting on its own. He couldn’t be seen by Oscar, he couldn’t be seen by—

“What’s wrong?” Katherine asked.

“Oh, nothing,” Crutchie said, playing it off with a laugh. “Just, uh, like the shade, is all.”

“Well, we’ve got to be out in the open, where the King and the Prince can actually see the posters, or else all this work will have been for nothing.”

“Um, yeah, of course,” Crutchie said, peering around the pillar. Oscar wasn’t looking his way. He stepped out around the pillar, lofting the poster into the air. “Let’s do this, Kath. Show ‘em what’s what.”

As soon as Prince Jack stepped out onto the stage, the crowd burst into cheers and screams and catcalls. The Prince smiled weakly, waving to his adoring fans. He opened his mouth to say something, but Katherine began shouting, “Say no to ogrecide! Say no to ogrecide!” Her voice carried loud and clear over the rally’s crowd, catching the attention of the King, the Prince, and everyone in the square.

Normally, Crutchie would be proud of his friend taking a stand for her beliefs, but not when Oscar’s scowl deepened at the sight of his step-brother. Oscar shoved a couple of the rally-goers aside, stomping angrily towards Crutchie. A slightly-confused Morris followed along, glancing back at Jack longingly. “What are you doing here?” Oscar demanded, ripping the poster from Crutchie’s shaking hands. “I told you not to show your face here. Go home,” he commanded.

Crutchie winced, before muttering softly, “I gotta go, Kath. I’ll see you around.”

“Crutch, wait!” Katherine tried, but Crutchie was already limping out of the square, ignoring the stares from all of the citizens.

“That was a waste,” Crutchie muttered, wiping angrily at his nose. All Crutchie had ever dreamed of, since he was young, was making a difference in the world. But, how could he ever do that, if he continually was forced into following others commands. It wasn’t fair. No one else had been cursed at birth. Only Crutchie seemed lucky enough to have been blessed with some fairy that apparently had decided his life wouldn’t be crappy enough between his twisted leg and his father’s sudden death, and had “gifted” him with obedience.

Crutchie barely had time to notice the sound of screams echoing throughout the forest, before someone grabbed him, dragging him to the ground. He immediately elbowed his assailant in the stomach, but that only managed to trigger a small grunt of pain. A soft hand was clamped over his mouth, while his attacker hissed, “Shh.”

A crowd of men and women, all wearing those tacky “I Heart Jack” pins, ran past them, screaming excitedly. Once they had passed them, Crutchie’s assailant let him go, muttering a small apology. Crutchie turned, surprised to discover that assailant was, in fact, Prince Jack. “That’s a fine way to treat your citizens, shoving them to the ground,” Crutchie muttered, standing up and brushing the dirt from his pants.

“I’m Jack,” Jack introduced himself, handing the other man his crutch.

“Yeah, I know.”

“Oh,” Jack said, running his hand through his brown locks. Crutchie started away, but Jack caught up. “Hey, I never got your name.”

“They call me Crutchie.”

“Do you like the name Crutchie?”

“It’s a far cry better than ‘crip,’ or whatever semi-clever insults the kids on the playground could think of,” Crutchie remarked.

“I’m sorry,” Jack said, but Crutchie shrugged his concern off, continuing on his way home. “You know,” Jack continued, “you’re the first person who hasn’t swooned at the sight of me.”

Crutchie snorted. “Then maybe I’ve done you some good.”

“No, I meant—“ Jack fell silent, as a strange sound emanated from the forest on the side of the road. “I’ll go investigate,” he explained, pulling his sword out of its sheath. “Stay here.”

At the command, Crutchie’s feet seemed to freeze in the center of the dirt road. “Jack!” he tried to call, but the Prince either ignored him, or didn’t hear. “Great,” he muttered, tugging uselessly on his legs and trying to will them to move, even though he knew none of his efforts would be successful. Eventually, Crutchie simply gave up, scanning the forest and waiting for his prince to come—Crutchie rolled his eyes at that particular thought—and free him from his temporary stasis.

A quiet rumbling surprised Crutchie. He hadn’t expected any sort of storm, especially with the sky so clear of clouds. As the rumbling grew louder, he glanced behind him, immediately discovering the source of the noise. Some madly drunk man had whipped the horses driving his carriage into a frenzy, and the carriage barreled towards Crutchie, with no sign of slowing. “Jack!” Crutchie shouted again, annoyed at the note of desperation that colored the name. He wasn’t desperate, he wasn’t—only, he was, because his feet still would not move and the carriage was getting closer and—

“Move!”

Crutchie immediately obeyed, leaping out of the way of the carriage and the cackling drunkard. For a moment, Crutchie merely laid on the ground, breathing deeply and thanking everything that he was still alive. His fingers shook, but he quickly fisted his hands to hide the trembling. Ignoring the slight tremor in his voice, Crutchie shouted, “What the hell was that?”

Jack blinked in surprise. “What was what? You weren’t moving; you were just standing there!”

“Clearly, I moved out of the way in time,” Crutchie said, levering himself up with the aid of his crutch. “No thanks to you. How was your little romp into the woods?”

“It wasn’t an ogre.”

“You find a scawy wabbit?” Crutchie teased, focusing on annoying the Prince instead of the way his knees still shook after that near-death experience. He could’ve died, he could’ve died.

“Oh, shut up.”

Crutchie’s mouth snapped shut, but the Prince didn’t seem to notice, as Oscar and Morris ran up to the pair. “Jack!” Oscar called out, taken aback by the appearance of the Prince with his step-brother. “H-how are you? You’re looking,” Oscar paused, examining the Prince’s body, “swell.”

Crutchie snorted, catching Oscar’s attention. “And, Crutchie, take Morris home.”

“Oh, come on,” Morris complained, pouting. But, he listened to his older brother and motioned for Crutchie to come home with him.

“Watch out for rabbits,” Crutchie told Jack, a farewell, of sorts.

“And you stay away from carriages,” Jack told him, a soft smile at his lips.

Crutchie nodded his good-bye, before joining Morris on the road home. “I don’t see why you get to meet Jack,” Morris complained. “Sometimes, Crutchie, I think you’re the luckiest guy alive.” And while Crutchie had never been inclined to agree to a statement such as that, he found himself wondering if this was a start of a new, luckier chapter in his life.