Ella, Simply, Ella
You know my story. I am the radiant blonde that caught the eye of a handsome prince and lived ever after. But that's not really what happened and my story did not begin with once upon a time. Here is the truth.
My father was a kind, loving man who had lost his wife, my mother, soon after I was born. He often told stories of her and her great beauty as we sat around a small fire in our crude, old shack. He was a serf to a great lord and worked hard for the measly bread and meat we ate for supper. I was the apple of his eye; I was his perfect daughter, Ella.
When I was ten years old, I was sent away as a payment for a gambling debt my dear Father owed to a lord in a neighboring fief. I was to be a maid to the lord's two daughters, Adele and Cyrille. They were pampered girls that took pleasure in yelling and hitting the maids that served them.
I made the mistake of hitting Adele back one day, after she hit me for picking up a toy she was not yet done playing with. I was tied to a tree and whipped three times, but I did not cry. I still have the scars on my back, although they are barely noticeable. I never touched either of them again, except to dress them.
I missed my father dreadfully, but I soon made many friends in the manor and the small town outside the walls. I was a favorite among the young men, for I was quite charming and beautiful. I was tall, with a slender, but shapely body, piercing green eyes, a delicate nose, and full pink lips. But, my most exquisite feature was my long, curly, blonde hair that fell to my lower back.
I flirted with the men, but found myself attracted none, although some were heart-breakingly handsome. I was holding out for something, someone special, for I had a sense of greatness about me that could only be fulfilled by royalty. And how right I had been.
Adele and Cyrille were not pretty girls, but they were attractive enough to catch the eyes of some men. They often stared at me with envy in there gaze, and I lowered my head meekly and clasped my hands together modestly. I knew I outmatched them in allure and beauty, and I relished in it.
I remember the day I heard his name with perfect clarity. A messenger came in with a manila invitation. Cyrille read the invitation aloud for all to hear, "His majesty, Prince Alexander Jonathan Domenici of son of King Henri James Domenici has cordially invited you to a masked ball in a fortnight to honor the prince's 18th birthday.
Sincerely,
Prince A. Domenici"
My two young mistresses squealed like little girls and talked excitedly of the dress they were going to buy. I rolled my eyes and excused myself from the room. I was not going so what was the point of staying in there listening to them scream like demented children.
I headed toward the library and found the book I had left there a day ago. This room was not used much and I loved the isolation I got while I was in here. I had learned how to read when I as ten. I had fanned Adele, who always got hot, during the lessons and listened attentively to the tutor. Although he did not know it, I was his best pupil, for both girls did not care much for the arts of learning and only half paid attention.