Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing. It even took a commenter on YouTuber to point out that the butterflies on Cinderella's gown and shoes were a connection to her dad.
Dedication: To the brilliant composers out there. Without you, movies would be dull. John Powell, you've made me soar through Viking skies. Howard Shore, you've lead me to the very fires of Mordor and back again. Harry Gregson-Williams, you've ushered me through the Wardrobe into a new world. Danny Elfman, you've surprised me with the tunes in the world of robot-boxing. And Patrick Doyle, you've inspired me to write this piece by including a lullaby into a poor girl's entrance at a royal ball. Seriously, this piece only exists because of those few seconds of lovely orchestration.
The golden carriage pulled forward. Ella's hopes of seeing Mr Kit again were going to be realized after all. And the chance to see him at the ball rather than anywhere else, well, that was practically a dream come true! The carriage bumped a little, but Ella hardly noticed, she was fidgeting so. She played with her gown, her hair, her hands. She began to hum.
She lifted her skirts to take off one of the magnificent glass slippers. Her eyes rested immediately on the golden butterfly and she smiled through the tears in her eyes. Fairy Godmother knew somehow and now she was taking not only Mother, but Father to the ball as well. She put on the shoe again and sat back, rearranging the fabrics about her and admiring its intricacies: the soft blue tulle sparkling still with magic and the layers upon layers of airy material shimmering whites and blues and greens and lavender. Mother really, truly would have liked this gown.
Fingering the tulle of her neckline and the butterflies thereupon, her humming turned into singing. "Lavender's blue, dilly dilly, lavender's green; when I am king, dilly dilly, you shall be queen."
At last, they had arrived. She stared up at the stairs leading up to the palace. Mr Kit was here. She was here. But even in this dress, she didn't belong. "I'm frightened, Mr Lizard. I'm only a girl, not a princess."
"Enjoy it while it lasts," the footman urged her with his lizardy smile.
Mother and Father always had called her their princess. Perhaps she could pretend again, just this once, that she was so. Ella ascended the stairs and into the halls of royalty, following the voices of instruments and that of the announcer. She knocked on the doors and they opened into a world of beauty and splendour.
She sank in a deep bow to his majesty, seated on his balcony above the throng, and descended to the ballroom floor, her blue skirts seeming to usher her down each step. Ella searched for Mr Kit and found him standing at the end of the natural pathway the people yielded to them. When she looked into his eyes, the butterflies in her stomach calmed; when she twirled in dance, the gown swished out as if in pride. She had brought a bit of her beloved parents with her and she couldn't be happier. "Lavender's green, dilly dilly, lavender's blue; if you'll love me, dilly dilly, I will love you."
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