Well, this is Cinderella, or Aschenputtel, as the Brothers Grimm called it, told from the point of view of the prince. It will follow the original story, not the fairy godmother version that we poor souls in the U.S. are familiar with. Hope you enjoy it!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

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Chapter 1:

"I do hope you'll try to be charming at the upcoming ball," my mother the queen sighed as a maid arranged her hair before a large mirror.

I smiled tightly and nodded. So this was why Mother had summoned me. Well, she needn't have bothered. I had already determined to be as charming as I possibly could be. Charm did not come easily to me, but I would try. Lord knows I wanted to find a wife. I had been of age for several years, and one day my instincts had finally woken up and told me, "Prince Maximilian, you must get yourself a wife."

I knew exactly what sort of a wife I wanted, too. She would be intelligent, entertaining in one way or another, good-natured, not a gossip, low-maintenance, and full of practical wisdom. Hopefully she would also be infatuated with me. Beauty would be nice, but as long as she was passably pretty I didn't really plan on making a fuss.

But I couldn't dream at the moment. My mother was talking again. "Do you remember that delightful daughter of the foreign dignitary who visited last month?" she asked.

"Yes, I remember her," I replied, wondering where we were going with this. The girl had been a horror; even my mother had said so. "I remember that you didn't care for her."

"Well, I just received the most gracious letter from her," my mother said, opening a letter that she had been holding and smiling down at it. "Perhaps she have improved in the past month."

Perhaps elephants have become purple. But I couldn't say such a thing to my mother the queen. "I am unconvinced," I said flatly.

"I have invited her to the ball," my scheming mother admitted.

"You did not," I groaned. "Why? Why would you invite that little fiend?"

"Little? She is only two years your junior."

"That may be so, but she acts much younger, and if she starts misbehaving again, I'll definitely tell her so," I declared, standing taller in my resolution.

"You mustn't do such a thing!" my poor mother gasped. "This is why I keep warning you to be charming!"

"I'll be charming," I sighed. "I'll be the essence of charm. I'll be such a charmer that the poor maidens will be dreaming about me when they return to their beds at night."

"That was an indecorous statement," Mother corrected me with a frown of admonishment. "Don't say it again."

I didn't reply immediately. Instead, I simply peered about the room. What an odd place it was: full of fans and perfumes and other mysterious, womanly objects. There was something shiny under one of the soft armchairs, and I was dying to go see what it possibly be. But suddenly a new thought came to me, and I was distracted from the odd, shiny object.

"Honestly, do I need to be so charming?" I asked. "I'm a prince. I don't see that my being charming will affect these maidens' hearts too much."

Looking back at me through her mirror, my mother gave me a killing glare. "Never say that in my presence again. Your puffed-up opinion of yourself may support such words, but I never will. Remember that the woman most worthy of being wooed is least likely to be easily won. Do you understand, Maximilian?"

I understood, and told her so. After all, I too wanted to find a worthy wife.

"I couldn't bear to have you end up like your wretched sister," Mother muttered as her maid sprayed her hair with several perfumes at once. Mother had never forgiven my sister Ingrid for joining a convent instead of marrying an eligible noble.

"Mother," Ingrid had patiently said when faced with her affectionate parent's disappointed rage, "you and I both know that I am not suited for married life. Let Max make a good connection. I go to the convent."

And so, she had gone to the convent, leaving behind an enraged mother, an apathetic father, and a lonely younger brother. However, I didn't begrudge Ingrid her freedom. If she felt disinclined to marry, then she should not be forced into a match. I, for my part, as I have told you several times already, was ready for a wife!

When I finally was permitted to leave my mother, I went to visit my father the king, who had requested my presence in his private chambers as soon as was convenient. I found Father seated at his royal desk, chewing on the end of his royal feather pen.

I had always loved Father's chambers. They had a pleasant, manly feel. Everything was made of a dark, exotic wood, polished just enough to be comfortable but not so much that it gleamed too brightly and lost its character. That is a common mistake: We polish and polish and polish until all original character, which is often what has attracted us in the first place, is gone.

I found my father the king in his reading and writing room, which had loaded bookshelves all the way around. There was a single square window at the back of the room that kept it from becoming oppressive and allowed it to simply be cozy. In the center of the room, or perhaps a little to the rear, was my father's desk, in which he kept various private things about which I had always been desperately curious.

"Sir?" I said, poking my head into the room. "You called?"

"Don't be so timid, Maximilian," my father boomed at me. "Come out and proclaim your presence like a man!"

Oh, dear. He was in one of his manly moods. I tried again in a louder, more confident voice. "You called, sir?"

"That's my little Maxi," Father said affectionately. Ugh. How I hated that nickname. It had been given to me when I was three and had stuck like a burr to a wool sweater.

"What do you need?" I asked. Mother had wearied me, and I was eager to be outdoors. It was a fine, sunny, breezy day in autumn, yet here I was stuck inside the palace! That single window at the back of the room was taunting me.

"I would like your opinion on several aspects of this ball," Father replied, shuffling through a pile of papers on his desk. "Is it agreeable to you if we send out invitations to all noble or wealthy families?"

"Why not?"

"That's the spirit! Be aware that there will be a receiving line as the ball begins."

"Very well then, I am now reconsidering inviting all these families."

"Be brave, little Maxi! It won't take as long as you think, and, after all, the ball will last three nights."

"It will?" This surprised me. I hadn't expected the ball to be such a massive affair when I first mentioned the idea in passing to my poor mother.

My father nodded seriously. "Indeed it will. Quite an expense, it is."

"I'm sorry."

"No, it's not your fault. I daresay your mother has caused most of the fuss."

"She does tend to do that," I agreed.

My father gave me a reproving look. "It's not your place to say such things."

Sighing, I nodded my repentance. "I'll remember that in future." My, I had a lot to remember today! This was unusual, even for uncharming me. "Is there anything else you need me to see regarding the ball?" Please, no. I really wanted to go outside and run about like a maniac, like I used to when I was a small child. It was immature, but shouldn't we all give in to our immaturity at times?

"Yes, actually," replied Father, much to my dismay. "Here on my desk I have a list for you to review. Some things need to be signed. Also, I have scheduled a fitting for you in one hour."

"Fitting?" I repeated, horrorstruck. Fittings took hours, even for men. This was not good. This was not good at all.

"For the ball, of course."

Curse the ball. Curse me, who had suggested it. Why had I suggested it? It was destroying my day and probably my entire autumn.

Of course, one second's reflection reminded me of exactly why I had proposed this ridiculous event. I wanted a wife. I wanted a wife very badly indeed, and where better to find one than at a royal ball?

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So that's the first chapter. Reviews are appreciated!