Dearest Cinderella

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Dearest Cinderella Page 6

by Sandra M. Said


  "I will talk to her." Then she left the room, locking the door behind herself. Cinderella was left alone again, except she wasn't quite as alone anymore.

  The forest was quiet as Prince Mark rode through it. He rode carelessly, with only one thought in his head. Cinderella. As he exited the forest he found a small quaint street with a row of town houses and one grand manor at the end of the court. He slowed the horse to a trot, passing the houses, analysing the street. It could have been any house. Fairgem had only given him directions, not a description. He stopped in frustration; the only way to find out would be to knock on each door. He dismounted the horse, gripping it by the reins and walking over to the nearest home to ask about a Cinderella when he heard a whinny. If he hadn't have been so close to his horse he might have thought the whinny had originated from beside him. The sound came from behind the manor at the end of the lane. Filled with a sense of anticipation, the Prince made his way to the mansion and knocked on the door. An elderly butler opened the door, his eyes widening before he bowed with exaggerated flourish, his nose almost touching the floor.

  "Your Majesty, please come in." He led Mark down an elegantly furnished hallway and into a large fashionable sitting room where he was left to wait. Not a moment had passed before a lady waltzed in. She was dressed in fine clothing; Cinderella's family was obviously wealthy. She bowed politely, a small smile straining her lips.

  "Your Majesty, you honor me with your presence. Would you like me to ring for tea?" He held a hand up.

  "That will not be necessary." His words were curt. When he looked at her he could not help but remember all the times Cinderella had spoken of her family and the way they'd treated her. The mere sight of her smile made him unbelievably angry. He longed to strangle the woman.

  "Is there something I can help you with, your Highness?"

  "Yes, I am here to see one of your daughters." Her eyes immediately sharpened, her eyelids lowering and smile stretching wider until it looked like it might split her tight face open.

  "Which one? For I have two lovely daughters. Miss Anabeth and Miss Rebecca." Loath to waste time with charades and nonsense, the Prince stood up and looked down at the prim woman who radiated coldness.

  "I am here to see Miss Cinderella."

  "I'm afraid we have no one here by that name." Without looking at her, he strode from the room in search of the butler, ignoring as Cinderella's stepmother called out to him. He was dimly aware that she followed him, trying to get his attention, but as he strode through the house he hardly noticed her. The butler ran to them, having heard his mistress calling out. At the sight of the Prince he again made a very low bow.

  "Tell me, where is Cinderella?" He commanded. The butler hesitated, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat as he looked past the Prince's shoulder and at the glaring face of his mistress. "That was an order from your Prince." The butler swallowed, making a short curt nod.

  "This way, your Highness." The Prince and Cinderella's stepmother followed him up stairs then into the servants' quarters, where they then made their way up another set of steps until they reached a solitary door. The Prince was fuming; rational thought fled him as he was escorted through the servants' areas. What had they done to his Cinderella? He pulled a hand out to knock on her door.

  "Cinderella?" They waited a moment but there was only silence.

  "There's no Cinderella here my Prince!" The lady beside him tried to interject. Not seconds after she'd finished talking a small, frail voice arose behind the door,

  "Jon?" He tried the door but then found it was locked, turning murderous eyes onto the entitled lady beside him, he found that her two daughters were standing beside him, looking shocked.

  "I can explain-"

  "Save your words madam, they cannot help you now." She took a step back from the raw anger she saw in him. "Cinderella," he called out, "stand away from the door." He waited until there was no more shuffling to be heard on the other side before he took a step back and with all his weight kicked his boot into the door with such force that it gave way at the hinges and came crashing down.

  Cinderella had been expecting Anabeth and Rebecca when she detected commotion just outside of her door. But when a distinct baritone voice had called out her name she knew, Jon had come for her. The Prince walked through the doorway, murder in his eyes before he caught sight of her, standing in the corner of the room, trying to look halfway presentable in her usual rags. Immediately his eyes softened as he took the sight of her in and he smiled. Behind him came her stepmother and two sisters, the butler wisely stayed away. Slowly he walked towards Cinderella before her stepmother called out behind him.

  "You cannot engage with her!" He spun on his heel.

  "You are mistaken if you think your opinion means anything to me." The woman refused to stand down, stiffening her upper lip and straightening her back.

  "She is not my daughter!" There was silence. Cinderella heart felt as if it were gripped in a vice.

  "You are correct mother, she is not our sister." Rebecca began, behind her mother, "She is our cousin." Cinderella couldn't breathe, undeniably touched by her sister's actions. Anabeth nodded next to her sister.

  "Of course she is not our sister, mother, that would be ridiculous. She's the daughter of the Earl's youngest brother... Which would make her our cousin. Obviously." Anabeth spoke as though she were talking to an infant. Their mother turned to them, making sounds of outrage.

  "Your Majesty-"

  "Enough." He roared. "Take your daughters and exit the room."

  "But-"

  "Would you defy your Prince?" His words thundered down on her until she was forced to bow and mutter a very small,

  "No, your Highness." She turned, sparing a glare at Cinderella and exiting the room. Anabeth and Rebecca offered him small smiles, bowing and exiting the room behind her. The Prince turned back to Cinderella, who had tears in her eyes. He reached out to cup her cheek with his palm. The contact caused several tears to roll down her cheeks. He brushed them away with the pads of his thumbs.

  "Why did you not tell me it was you?" He asked. She tried to avoid eye contact with him, which proved to be impossible due to the way his hands held her.

  "I was afraid." She whispered.

  "Are you still afraid?"

  "Can I tell you something?" she brought her hands up to grip his wrists and pull them down so that they were entwined at their sides.

  "For you, anything." She licked her dry lips, trying to will her mouth to open. Fear was a powerful thing but as Cinderella stood there, thinking of the way her sisters had stood up for her, she couldn't help but believe that love was more powerful than fear. Her sisters' love had healed a part of her that had always thought she was unlovable. With the memory of their selflessness, she took a deep breath and opened her mouth.

  "They are my sisters. My...half-sisters. I am the product of the late Earl and his mistress. That is why I ran, because I am not worthy." She took another deep raggedy breath, avoiding his eyes. "I never imagined that you would be the Prince. It is impossible, even you must see that."

  "Cinderella." He waited for her to look at him, long seconds passed before she gave in and stared back at him. Slowly, he lowered his knee until, to her horror, he knelt on the ground before her. She pulled at his arms, trying to wrench him up to stand again.

  "Are you insane?" He laughed.

  "Maybe. Now, let me tell you what I see. I see girl who has been treated poorly most of her life but still manages to be the kindest woman I've ever known."

  "Please." She pleaded with him to stand up. Mark knew that it was hard for her to accept praise, but he'd have been damned if he were to be stopped. Nothing short of the Kings army could have blocked him from telling her exactly why she was more than worthy.

  "I see a woman who has not called me 'your Majesty' or 'your Highness' or 'your Anything' since I walked into the room. A woman who treats me as an equal. A woman I want to spend the rest of my life with. She is ho
nest and funny and genuine. She could not have told me about the situation surrounding her birth, but she chose to because she is decent. I see the woman I love and want to marry. Do you see?" He looked up hopefully at the fresh tears in Cinderella's eyes, praying that they were borne of happiness and not of sadness. She nodded silently, unable to form words because of the emotion that had lodged in her throat. "Will you marry me?" She cleared her throat, wiping the tears from her eyes and offering him a watery grin.

  "I love you." He stood, taking her in his arms and kissing her. When they drew away from each other they both laughed, unbelieving of their good favor.

  "So, you'll marry me?

  "Yes, your Highness." She laughed, he laughed and they embraced again.

  EPILOGUE

  From that moment, Cinderella's life changed drastically. It wasn't perfect, for nothing in life truly was, but it was filled with sunshine and laughter and everything she'd been denied during her childhood. Each day she faced new trials and tribulations, but with the Prince's support, she was more than capable of dealing with them. Eventually, the Prince's family warmed to her, seeing the degree of kindness in her heart made it hard for them to remain cold for long. The kingdom soon followed suit. Her sisters visited her where they quickly grew closer. Cinderella had all of her gowns made at Fairgem's modiste, leading all the nobility to want their dresses made similarly. Fairgem became very popular, she served almost everyone, except for Cinderella's stepmother of course. It took years for Cinderella to accept that she was worthy, some darkness takes longer to be driven away than most. Each day they left each other little notes, most often they were simple reaffirmations of their love for one another. On their 50th wedding anniversary they took a private trip to the forest where they searched for that old oak tree again. When they found it they dismounted their horse and dug up the diary together. They spent the evening laughing at their younger selves, cringing and kissing. They found themselves thankful for the life they'd been granted together. That it may never have happened if she hadn't have left her diary in the forest and he hadn’t have had the good sense to find it.

 

 

 


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