that is
a beautiful shoe." He sat back in his chair stretching his limbs.
He'd seen the pair of shoes in the window of a store and it had
called to him.
"It is." He turned to his
mother, watching her take a seat on the chair in the back corner of
the room. "Is there something I can help you with mother?"
"That girl you danced with last
night, who was she?" He'd been naive to hope that she might not
have noticed.
"A girl." A girl he'd hoped to
marry. He pointedly refrained from thinking of the kisses they'd
shared, the feel of her small hand in his, the way she'd smiled,
laughter in her eyes as she twirled in dance.
"And what are your intentions
with this girl? I did not recognise her, therefore she must not be
suitable." She was suitable in every way that he cared. She was
kind and sharp, witty and beautiful. She had a mind that challenged
his own.
"I intend to wed her, but you
are correct she is not of royal blood, nor is she nobility." His
mother made an intake of horror, standing from her chair.
"You must know that I do not
approve." He nodded, his mind was set, not his mother nor the
entire royal line could have forced him to change his mind.
Regardless of what station of life she was from he would be a fool
to refuse himself the chance of a future with her. "You will be
making a mockery of us! What will they think?"
"They will not think anything.
They are our subjects, not our advisors."
"That we are not royalty!" She
fumed, pacing in his study, her hands balled up by her side.
"If anything, it will bring us
closer to our subjects," she made a short bark that sounded vaguely
like a laugh.
"Mother, this is what you
wanted, for me to marry for love." She glanced at him, stopping mid
stride.
"You only met her last
night!"
"That may be true but I have
know her for much longer." She rolled her eyes, falling back into
her chair.
"Explain yourself." He took a
deep breath and began recounting the series of events that led to
last night.
Dorothy Fairgem sat in her back
room, making adjustments to a new dress she was working on, white
and beautiful. Fairgem rushed to finish the dress, the sun rose as
she sat over it, trying to make something even half as beautiful as
the one that she'd given Cinderella two nights previous. Fairgem
had been expecting Cinderella to arrive the next morning, regaling
her with stories of romance and returning the dress. Instead, she'd
received silence. Her teeth worried over her bottom lip as she
focused on the dress. Nothing would come from worrying she reminded
herself. Nothing had gone wrong. The plan hadn't been fool-proof
but Cinderella had known that there would be risk. The bell
attached to the door at the front of the shop rang as it was pulled
open, indicating that a customer had entered.
"Just one moment!" She called
out as she carefully laid the dress to rest back on the table,
slipping her feet back into her slippers and walking out to meet
them. She'd been expecting a customer, hoping to be met by
Cinderella but never imagining the Prince would be standing in the
center of her humble store looking uncomfortable and masculine
surrounded by rows of lace.
"Your Majesty," she bowed
clumsily.
"Fairgem, have you seen
Cinderella?" He held the shoe, fidgeting it from hand to hand. Her
heart rate sped. He too thought something was wrong.
"I have not." His frown
darkened, it had been what he was expecting but not what he'd hoped
for.
"How can I contact her?"
"Come, sit." She motioned him
over to a small pink, heart shaped stool where he sat trying to
accommodate for his long legs. "Is it possible she does not want
you to contact her?" He was silent. Fairgem had to ask; she knew
that Cinderella had been afraid. It was entirely possible that
realising he was the Prince had pushed her past her limits and now
she was retreating. She'd never thought she was acceptable, her
stepmother had beaten it into her at such a young age that
regardless of how much praise Fairgem had tried to
a beautiful shoe." He sat back in his chair stretching his limbs.
He'd seen the pair of shoes in the window of a store and it had
called to him.
"It is." He turned to his
mother, watching her take a seat on the chair in the back corner of
the room. "Is there something I can help you with mother?"
"That girl you danced with last
night, who was she?" He'd been naive to hope that she might not
have noticed.
"A girl." A girl he'd hoped to
marry. He pointedly refrained from thinking of the kisses they'd
shared, the feel of her small hand in his, the way she'd smiled,
laughter in her eyes as she twirled in dance.
"And what are your intentions
with this girl? I did not recognise her, therefore she must not be
suitable." She was suitable in every way that he cared. She was
kind and sharp, witty and beautiful. She had a mind that challenged
his own.
"I intend to wed her, but you
are correct she is not of royal blood, nor is she nobility." His
mother made an intake of horror, standing from her chair.
"You must know that I do not
approve." He nodded, his mind was set, not his mother nor the
entire royal line could have forced him to change his mind.
Regardless of what station of life she was from he would be a fool
to refuse himself the chance of a future with her. "You will be
making a mockery of us! What will they think?"
"They will not think anything.
They are our subjects, not our advisors."
"That we are not royalty!" She
fumed, pacing in his study, her hands balled up by her side.
"If anything, it will bring us
closer to our subjects," she made a short bark that sounded vaguely
like a laugh.
"Mother, this is what you
wanted, for me to marry for love." She glanced at him, stopping mid
stride.
"You only met her last
night!"
"That may be true but I have
know her for much longer." She rolled her eyes, falling back into
her chair.
"Explain yourself." He took a
deep breath and began recounting the series of events that led to
last night.
Dorothy Fairgem sat in her back
room, making adjustments to a new dress she was working on, white
and beautiful. Fairgem rushed to finish the dress, the sun rose as
she sat over it, trying to make something even half as beautiful as
the one that she'd given Cinderella two nights previous. Fairgem
had been expecting Cinderella to arrive the next morning, regaling
her with stories of romance and returning the dress. Instead, she'd
received silence. Her teeth worried over her bottom lip as she
focused on the dress. Nothing would come from worrying she reminded
herself. Nothing had gone wrong. The plan hadn't been fool-proof
but Cinderella had known that there would be risk. The bell
attached to the door at the front of the shop rang as it was pulled
open, indicating that a customer had entered.
"Just one moment!" She called
out as she carefully laid the dress to rest back on the table,
slipping her feet back into her slippers and walking out to meet
them. She'd been expecting a customer, hoping to be met by
Cinderella but never imagining the Prince would be standing in the
center of her humble store looking uncomfortable and masculine
surrounded by rows of lace.
"Your Majesty," she bowed
clumsily.
"Fairgem, have you seen
Cinderella?" He held the shoe, fidgeting it from hand to hand. Her
heart rate sped. He too thought something was wrong.
"I have not." His frown
darkened, it had been what he was expecting but not what he'd hoped
for.
"How can I contact her?"
"Come, sit." She motioned him
over to a small pink, heart shaped stool where he sat trying to
accommodate for his long legs. "Is it possible she does not want
you to contact her?" He was silent. Fairgem had to ask; she knew
that Cinderella had been afraid. It was entirely possible that
realising he was the Prince had pushed her past her limits and now
she was retreating. She'd never thought she was acceptable, her
stepmother had beaten it into her at such a young age that
regardless of how much praise Fairgem had tried to
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