CINDERFELLA
Chapter Four:
And so... at the ball...
The Prince sighed indignantly, waving her hand dismissively at the young woman that presented herself,
"Too frilly," she said. She was actually lying. She admitted that if she were in fact a man, she'd probably have taken any number of the young ladies that had presented themselves tonight... however, she was not a man, and had no interest in taking a woman as a wife. As a result, she was coming up with any and every excuse she could possibly find to dismiss the ladies that presented themselves. Her uncle, the duke, was getting a little upset,
"Your Highness; nearly every woman has presented herself to you, and yet still you refuse to choose one. Why is this? It's very vexing," he said, tapping his temple impatiently. The Prince turned to him,
"Because, uncle, my dad is insane and seems to think I WANT to marry a pretty lady. Whatever happened to marrying a pretty BOY?" she asked, crossing her arms in a childlike manner. The duke sighed in aggravation,
"Your preferences are none of my concern, but if you don't choose a wife from the women here tonight, your Father will have my head!" he hissed, wringing his hands nervously. The Prince shrugged and leaned on the right arm of her chair, throwing her leg over the left,
"That's not my problem now, is it, uncle?" she said, blowing a raspberry at him. The duke paled slightly in both aggravation and anxiety,
"Please!" he begged. She groaned in annoyance,
"SON!" The Prince jolted and the both of them turned to face the King, "How many times have I told you, SIT UP STRAIGHT!" he hollered, his eye twitching involuntarily. The Prince cowered in her seat, then sat up straight. After a moment though, she rested her chin in her hand as her elbow rested on the arm of the chair. Out of boredom and utter idleness, she tapped her delicate, princely fingers on the other arm. The King turned away from his bored child to the Duke,
"Well, has he made any progress yet?" he asked in annoyance. The duke looked around nervously,
"Well, Your Highness, sh-- he hasn't really taken a fancy to any of them..." he muttered, clearly unimpressed by the King's attitude. The King went a little red in the face and turned out to the crowd of ladies,
"How?! There are so many pretty ladies here this evening! Why wouldn't he like one of them!?" he shrieked, turning more purple than red.
Anastasia and Drizella arrived at the ball with their mother with impeccable timing; as soon as they arrived it was time for them to present themselves to the Prince. A doorman entered the ballroom ahead of them to announce their presence,
"May I present to your Royal Highnesses, The Lady Crawford and her daughters, Anastasia and Drizella," The doorman bowed and the sisters entered the ballroom. The Prince imagined that if she were taking a drink of something that she would have spat it out at the sight of the two 'daughters' and the 'Lady Crawford'. Never before could she remember seeing a manlier group. Either they were just extremely masculine, or they were men in dresses.
"Your Highnesses!" piped Bradmomma, well beyond overly-enthused. "I'm so happy you've decided to take an audience with myself and my two wonderful girls--"
"You know, I called for all the eligible maidens, Lady Crawford... so it's not as if we've been inconvenienced..." interuppted the Prince, looking up at Bradmomma without so much as batting an eyelash, "except for me..." she added, under her breath. Bradmomma faltered, then laughed good- naturedly,
"Well, we thank you anyways, Your Collective Highnesses! And, Your Majesty, I am certain you will find both of my daughters quite eligible and quite beautiful as well," he sighed, laughing again. The Prince looked up at Lady Crawford as if he'd grown a second head, then she shrugged and greeted the two daughters, looking them over. It was her duty anyway... not that she really minded. Or at least, she wouldn't have minded as much if their make-up wasn't so tackily overdone. She figured that beneath it all, they both had natural beauty, especially the blonde one... especially the blonde one.
But that wasn't the point. She didn't really have any interest in either of them. Partly because their mother was far too eager; it had to be something to do with the family fortune that was also at stake if she didn't marry. And also partly because she didn't really want to marry a man that enjoyed crossdressing as these two seemed to. It just seemed... almost unnatural. Not that she was any exception, but she didn't enjoy it. She sighed in apprehension, then waved her hand dismissively,
"I'm sorry, no. Perhaps some other time," she said, then crossed her legs in a rather feminine manner and rested her neatly-folded hands in her lap. The sisters preferred to interpret the comment as "some other time this evening" and proceeded to take their absence of the Prince, flirting with other men in the crowd in an attempt to make His Highness jealous.
Cinderella's onion-carriage arrived shortly thereafter. He entered the ballroom more than slightly apprehensive. Cinderella had accomplished Step One: He was at the ball. Now the hard part. Getting one of the many lovely ladies to take him seriously. He attempted to mingle with the crowd, but it was hard not to feel stupid when you're a man in a spectacularly gorgeous dress. (Although his Stepsisters seemed to be managing it). Cinderella ended up just wandering around awkwardly.
The King looked as if he were about to burst, he was so red and puffy. Instead, he calmly turned to his 'son',
"You know, son... you could at least pretend like you want to be here by mingling with the crowd a little. There are many, many beautiful women here tonight and I'm having a difficult time figuring out why you haven't been able to pick one," he said, his voice severe. The Prince rubbed her temples; so her dad had really and totally convinced himself she was a man. Go figure. She sighed in aggravation,
"Dad, if you like so many of them, why don't YOU pick a wife out of them? I don't want any of them," she said, waving her hand sloppily. The King growled and looked as if he would strike her, when he heard the doorman calling to another young woman. The King turned to the Duke,
"See that he at least dances with this one. I will have a daughter- in-law by night's end!" he hissed, then turned and stormed out. The Prince growled and shook her fist in her father's direction, then waited for the doorman to introduce the next reject.
Cinderella quickly became aware of a voice calling to him. It was a doorman,
"Miss! Miss!.. Miss, you need to present yourself to the prince," said the doorman. He led Cinderella to the Prince's Presence, and after whispering to Cinderella for his name, presented him.
"May I present to your Royal Highnesses, Miss Ella." Cinderella curtsied for the prince as he figured he was expected to. Then he looked up at this Prince to see just how hot he really was. The first thing he saw was the Prince's rather large chest. Wow! What huge pecs! This Prince must REALLY pump iron.
The Prince sighed and waited for Miss Ella to present herself and glanced up at her. Okay... not her. Him. Wow, this seemed to be a momentary trend. She glanced past Ella to see who else was waiting and saw that there were no other men-in-dresses. Not that she really minded. The first two had been rather frightening with their overdone, eccentric makeup. However, she rather enjoyed Miss Ella's prescence. His look was far softer than the preceeding 'ladies', and he seemed more nervous about being in a dress than presenting himself properly. She giggled softly, tapping her knee for a moment. She was debating dismissing him, or dancing with him. The duke saved her the trouble when he leaned down and whispered in her ear,
"Your father is going to have my neck if you don't dance with her... please, for the love of all things good in this world--" he muttered urgently. The Prince waved her hand dismissively at her uncle as the orchestra began to play a slow waltz. She stood up, approaching Miss Ella,
"Might I have this dance?" she asked, offering her upturned palm as an invitation. Cinderella didn't really want to dance with a man, but he really didn't have an excuse not to.
". . . Uh.. sure," he said, almost certain that wasn't the proper way to put it. Geez, he SO did not belong in fancy gatherings like this. The Prince giggled good-naturedly, and so, they began to dance.
Cue the sappy, annoying dual serenade. Yay for dancing out into the garden. Okay, so now we're in the garden. Director and her cohort claim no responsibility for lack of continuity. We blame the script.
Cinderella and the Prince sat down on a low ledge near some flowering bushes, and the Prince crossed her legs in the effeminate way most proper ladies might do,
"I'm not sure if you noticed it, Miss Ella," she said, turning to him, "but at the ball tonight there seemed to be a lot of men posing as women. Did you also notice this?" she asked, smiling genteely. She was asking for both to see if he'd realised that she had realised he was actually one of these men in dresses, and also to make for coversation. They'd been in each other's company nearly all night and had hardly said a full sentence to each other.
Inwardly, Cinderella freaked. The prince had figured him out! He couldn't look THAT bad to put him as obvious as his stepsisters, could he? ... His stepsisters. That was it! The prince had to be referring to Cinderella's stepsisters. Cinderella attempted to shrug it off. Maybe then the prince would change the subject.
"Really?" he said, laughing nervously. "I haven't seen any men dressed as women." He'd liked dancing and all, but that was just because he never got out of the house, not because he was dancing with the Prince. The Prince giggled softly,
"Well, that's fine. I noticed. There were a few... but that hardly matters," she said, staring up at the cloudless night sky for a moment. She turned back to Ella and took one of his hands in her own, "I really enjoyed dancing with you tonight..." she said, gently stroking his cheek with the back of her gloved hand. Her thumb touched his bottom lip softly as she tilted his chin gently, leaning forward as if to kiss him. Cinderella's heart rate increased, and he smiled the sexiest smile he could muster,
"Yeah," he said softly in response to the prince's statement. He leaned into the kiss for a split second when the bells in the castle's clock tower rang to announce the hour of midnight. Cinderella stood upright with a start. "CRAP! I have to go!" he said, and started to run back towards his onion-carriage.... as fast as he could in that damned dress, anyway. The Prince was up faster than you might think and chased after him, quickly but gently latching onto his wrist,
"No--! I-- you can't go yet, it's still early," she said, finding any kind of bullshit excuse to get him to stay. "I'm sorry, I can't. . . I. . I . ." said Cinderella, mind racing for an excuse to leave. He was almost ready to throttle his fairy drag-mother for only giving him a midnight curfiew -- no he wasn't. This was the PRINCE. A MAN. There was no way he was going to stick around and suck face with another man. Did the prince have a hot sister?
"...The dress is a rental!" Cinderella blurted out. He tore his arm from the prince and ran to his onion-carriage, losing one of his Adidas F50s on the steps on the way. The Prince was momentarily shocked at the rental comment, but quickly recollected herself and chased after him. She rushed down the stairs after him, and about halfway down tripped on something (the shoe!) and toppled down the remaining steps. CRASH BANG BOOM OW SMACK! and she landed at the bottom, sprawled across the washed flagstones. Something fell and smacked her atop the head (OW!) and landed beside her. She pushed herself up into a sitting possition and rubbed her sore head (and other parts in turn), then picked up the bludgeoning object,
"What the--?" she picked it up; it was a shoe. An Adidas F50, to be more specific, "I didn't even know these were on the market yet... wait a minute... Ah! It's got to be his! Yes!" she stood up, striking a triumphant pose, only to recoil with admonitions of pain, "Ow..." she muttered, then hobbled back up the stairs... ow...
Chapter Four:
And so... at the ball...
The Prince sighed indignantly, waving her hand dismissively at the young woman that presented herself,
"Too frilly," she said. She was actually lying. She admitted that if she were in fact a man, she'd probably have taken any number of the young ladies that had presented themselves tonight... however, she was not a man, and had no interest in taking a woman as a wife. As a result, she was coming up with any and every excuse she could possibly find to dismiss the ladies that presented themselves. Her uncle, the duke, was getting a little upset,
"Your Highness; nearly every woman has presented herself to you, and yet still you refuse to choose one. Why is this? It's very vexing," he said, tapping his temple impatiently. The Prince turned to him,
"Because, uncle, my dad is insane and seems to think I WANT to marry a pretty lady. Whatever happened to marrying a pretty BOY?" she asked, crossing her arms in a childlike manner. The duke sighed in aggravation,
"Your preferences are none of my concern, but if you don't choose a wife from the women here tonight, your Father will have my head!" he hissed, wringing his hands nervously. The Prince shrugged and leaned on the right arm of her chair, throwing her leg over the left,
"That's not my problem now, is it, uncle?" she said, blowing a raspberry at him. The duke paled slightly in both aggravation and anxiety,
"Please!" he begged. She groaned in annoyance,
"SON!" The Prince jolted and the both of them turned to face the King, "How many times have I told you, SIT UP STRAIGHT!" he hollered, his eye twitching involuntarily. The Prince cowered in her seat, then sat up straight. After a moment though, she rested her chin in her hand as her elbow rested on the arm of the chair. Out of boredom and utter idleness, she tapped her delicate, princely fingers on the other arm. The King turned away from his bored child to the Duke,
"Well, has he made any progress yet?" he asked in annoyance. The duke looked around nervously,
"Well, Your Highness, sh-- he hasn't really taken a fancy to any of them..." he muttered, clearly unimpressed by the King's attitude. The King went a little red in the face and turned out to the crowd of ladies,
"How?! There are so many pretty ladies here this evening! Why wouldn't he like one of them!?" he shrieked, turning more purple than red.
Anastasia and Drizella arrived at the ball with their mother with impeccable timing; as soon as they arrived it was time for them to present themselves to the Prince. A doorman entered the ballroom ahead of them to announce their presence,
"May I present to your Royal Highnesses, The Lady Crawford and her daughters, Anastasia and Drizella," The doorman bowed and the sisters entered the ballroom. The Prince imagined that if she were taking a drink of something that she would have spat it out at the sight of the two 'daughters' and the 'Lady Crawford'. Never before could she remember seeing a manlier group. Either they were just extremely masculine, or they were men in dresses.
"Your Highnesses!" piped Bradmomma, well beyond overly-enthused. "I'm so happy you've decided to take an audience with myself and my two wonderful girls--"
"You know, I called for all the eligible maidens, Lady Crawford... so it's not as if we've been inconvenienced..." interuppted the Prince, looking up at Bradmomma without so much as batting an eyelash, "except for me..." she added, under her breath. Bradmomma faltered, then laughed good- naturedly,
"Well, we thank you anyways, Your Collective Highnesses! And, Your Majesty, I am certain you will find both of my daughters quite eligible and quite beautiful as well," he sighed, laughing again. The Prince looked up at Lady Crawford as if he'd grown a second head, then she shrugged and greeted the two daughters, looking them over. It was her duty anyway... not that she really minded. Or at least, she wouldn't have minded as much if their make-up wasn't so tackily overdone. She figured that beneath it all, they both had natural beauty, especially the blonde one... especially the blonde one.
But that wasn't the point. She didn't really have any interest in either of them. Partly because their mother was far too eager; it had to be something to do with the family fortune that was also at stake if she didn't marry. And also partly because she didn't really want to marry a man that enjoyed crossdressing as these two seemed to. It just seemed... almost unnatural. Not that she was any exception, but she didn't enjoy it. She sighed in apprehension, then waved her hand dismissively,
"I'm sorry, no. Perhaps some other time," she said, then crossed her legs in a rather feminine manner and rested her neatly-folded hands in her lap. The sisters preferred to interpret the comment as "some other time this evening" and proceeded to take their absence of the Prince, flirting with other men in the crowd in an attempt to make His Highness jealous.
Cinderella's onion-carriage arrived shortly thereafter. He entered the ballroom more than slightly apprehensive. Cinderella had accomplished Step One: He was at the ball. Now the hard part. Getting one of the many lovely ladies to take him seriously. He attempted to mingle with the crowd, but it was hard not to feel stupid when you're a man in a spectacularly gorgeous dress. (Although his Stepsisters seemed to be managing it). Cinderella ended up just wandering around awkwardly.
The King looked as if he were about to burst, he was so red and puffy. Instead, he calmly turned to his 'son',
"You know, son... you could at least pretend like you want to be here by mingling with the crowd a little. There are many, many beautiful women here tonight and I'm having a difficult time figuring out why you haven't been able to pick one," he said, his voice severe. The Prince rubbed her temples; so her dad had really and totally convinced himself she was a man. Go figure. She sighed in aggravation,
"Dad, if you like so many of them, why don't YOU pick a wife out of them? I don't want any of them," she said, waving her hand sloppily. The King growled and looked as if he would strike her, when he heard the doorman calling to another young woman. The King turned to the Duke,
"See that he at least dances with this one. I will have a daughter- in-law by night's end!" he hissed, then turned and stormed out. The Prince growled and shook her fist in her father's direction, then waited for the doorman to introduce the next reject.
Cinderella quickly became aware of a voice calling to him. It was a doorman,
"Miss! Miss!.. Miss, you need to present yourself to the prince," said the doorman. He led Cinderella to the Prince's Presence, and after whispering to Cinderella for his name, presented him.
"May I present to your Royal Highnesses, Miss Ella." Cinderella curtsied for the prince as he figured he was expected to. Then he looked up at this Prince to see just how hot he really was. The first thing he saw was the Prince's rather large chest. Wow! What huge pecs! This Prince must REALLY pump iron.
The Prince sighed and waited for Miss Ella to present herself and glanced up at her. Okay... not her. Him. Wow, this seemed to be a momentary trend. She glanced past Ella to see who else was waiting and saw that there were no other men-in-dresses. Not that she really minded. The first two had been rather frightening with their overdone, eccentric makeup. However, she rather enjoyed Miss Ella's prescence. His look was far softer than the preceeding 'ladies', and he seemed more nervous about being in a dress than presenting himself properly. She giggled softly, tapping her knee for a moment. She was debating dismissing him, or dancing with him. The duke saved her the trouble when he leaned down and whispered in her ear,
"Your father is going to have my neck if you don't dance with her... please, for the love of all things good in this world--" he muttered urgently. The Prince waved her hand dismissively at her uncle as the orchestra began to play a slow waltz. She stood up, approaching Miss Ella,
"Might I have this dance?" she asked, offering her upturned palm as an invitation. Cinderella didn't really want to dance with a man, but he really didn't have an excuse not to.
". . . Uh.. sure," he said, almost certain that wasn't the proper way to put it. Geez, he SO did not belong in fancy gatherings like this. The Prince giggled good-naturedly, and so, they began to dance.
Cue the sappy, annoying dual serenade. Yay for dancing out into the garden. Okay, so now we're in the garden. Director and her cohort claim no responsibility for lack of continuity. We blame the script.
Cinderella and the Prince sat down on a low ledge near some flowering bushes, and the Prince crossed her legs in the effeminate way most proper ladies might do,
"I'm not sure if you noticed it, Miss Ella," she said, turning to him, "but at the ball tonight there seemed to be a lot of men posing as women. Did you also notice this?" she asked, smiling genteely. She was asking for both to see if he'd realised that she had realised he was actually one of these men in dresses, and also to make for coversation. They'd been in each other's company nearly all night and had hardly said a full sentence to each other.
Inwardly, Cinderella freaked. The prince had figured him out! He couldn't look THAT bad to put him as obvious as his stepsisters, could he? ... His stepsisters. That was it! The prince had to be referring to Cinderella's stepsisters. Cinderella attempted to shrug it off. Maybe then the prince would change the subject.
"Really?" he said, laughing nervously. "I haven't seen any men dressed as women." He'd liked dancing and all, but that was just because he never got out of the house, not because he was dancing with the Prince. The Prince giggled softly,
"Well, that's fine. I noticed. There were a few... but that hardly matters," she said, staring up at the cloudless night sky for a moment. She turned back to Ella and took one of his hands in her own, "I really enjoyed dancing with you tonight..." she said, gently stroking his cheek with the back of her gloved hand. Her thumb touched his bottom lip softly as she tilted his chin gently, leaning forward as if to kiss him. Cinderella's heart rate increased, and he smiled the sexiest smile he could muster,
"Yeah," he said softly in response to the prince's statement. He leaned into the kiss for a split second when the bells in the castle's clock tower rang to announce the hour of midnight. Cinderella stood upright with a start. "CRAP! I have to go!" he said, and started to run back towards his onion-carriage.... as fast as he could in that damned dress, anyway. The Prince was up faster than you might think and chased after him, quickly but gently latching onto his wrist,
"No--! I-- you can't go yet, it's still early," she said, finding any kind of bullshit excuse to get him to stay. "I'm sorry, I can't. . . I. . I . ." said Cinderella, mind racing for an excuse to leave. He was almost ready to throttle his fairy drag-mother for only giving him a midnight curfiew -- no he wasn't. This was the PRINCE. A MAN. There was no way he was going to stick around and suck face with another man. Did the prince have a hot sister?
"...The dress is a rental!" Cinderella blurted out. He tore his arm from the prince and ran to his onion-carriage, losing one of his Adidas F50s on the steps on the way. The Prince was momentarily shocked at the rental comment, but quickly recollected herself and chased after him. She rushed down the stairs after him, and about halfway down tripped on something (the shoe!) and toppled down the remaining steps. CRASH BANG BOOM OW SMACK! and she landed at the bottom, sprawled across the washed flagstones. Something fell and smacked her atop the head (OW!) and landed beside her. She pushed herself up into a sitting possition and rubbed her sore head (and other parts in turn), then picked up the bludgeoning object,
"What the--?" she picked it up; it was a shoe. An Adidas F50, to be more specific, "I didn't even know these were on the market yet... wait a minute... Ah! It's got to be his! Yes!" she stood up, striking a triumphant pose, only to recoil with admonitions of pain, "Ow..." she muttered, then hobbled back up the stairs... ow...