Glass Slippers Are So In

"Slippers! Get your glass slippers!"

"Twenty percent off!"

"Full satisfaction or your money back!"

"Buy one pair, get the second at half price!"

As he walked through the streets of the capital, Ella, formerly known as Cinderella, now Queen Elsbeth (because no-one wanted a Queen "Ella," that would just be silly), had the sensation of a rock descending in her stomach, attached to which was a child screaming that this was wrong, and she was a terrible person for letting this happen.

One month after her coronation, and everyone in the kingdom knew of the cinder girl who'd become queen, found by the prince (now king) who'd managed to fit a slipper to her foot. A slipper so finely crafted that there wasn't a single lady in the kingdom whose foot could have fit it. That he should have been able to identify her face was something that had only entered her mind afterthe wedding, but it didn't matter.

The people were entranced. The merchants noticed. The merchants started ordering glass slippers, the glass-blowers made glass slippers, and the economy of the kingdom flapped around like a duck chasing bread attached to its tail. Now, less than a year after her coronation, half the people in the capital were wearing glass slippers, and the other half were saving up to pay for them. Which may or may not have accounted for the sharp rise in impaled soles as their slippers shattered.

"Glass slippers ma'am?" A merchant thrust his wares in her face. "Twenty percent off."

"No, thank-you."

"Thirty percent."

"I said no."

"Twenty-five percent!"

"That's less than you offered…" She took a breath. "I assure you good sure, I already have glass slippers."

"But do you have these?" He asked, grinning as he held the slippers so close she could smell them. "I had them imported all the way from the Far East."

Ella glanced at the guards trailing her – two men in cloaks from the palace who, at the flick of her fingers, would do anything she asked, including removing a merchant's tongue. She gave them a sign that said "wait," with the caveat of "be ready."

The merchant was still pressing her. "Ma'am if it pleases your ears to hear it, you are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."

"Duly noted," she said flatly, as she pushed the slippers back and kept walking.

"And it would break my heart to not see you at least try on these slippers."

"I said no." She quickened her pace.

"Damn wench! I paid for these to be imported all the way from Spain!"

She glanced back at him. "I thought you said they were from the Far East."

The man's face turned very red, very quickly.

"Are you lying to me, good sir?"

"A lie? To you? Never!"

"That's a lie right there." She signalled to her escorts to follow her, ignoring the sound of broken slippers and someone screaming as they cut themselves.

"Oh my dear Emma-"

"Ella."

"…how you've grown!"

Ella didn't think she'd grown that much. It had been less than a year since her fairy godmother had popped out of the blue, turned mice into horses, and proved to the world that fruit made for better transportation than vegetables (she'd checked – much to her surprise, pumpkins were fruit, not vegetables). She supposed that counted as having egg on her face, but the subject turned out to be a hot potato and was dropped.

But that was on the night of her dance with the prince, whose name she'd only learnt after the dance was concluded. Today was, well, the day, and her fairy godmother was gesturing her to take a seat outside the coffee shop she'd arrived at.

"Please sit," said her godmother. "We have so much to discuss."

Do we? She nevertheless obliged. She was the queen, but out here, she was just a commoner, wearing clothing scant better than what her stepmother had provided her with. Out here, she was just Ella.

"Tea? Biscuits?" Her godmother asked.

"No, I'll take coffee."

"Coffee? Really?"

"When you're queen, you need to stay awake."

"I see…"

Her godmother's look told Ella that she didn't see at all. Nevertheless, sitting at the table of the coffee shop on the right side of Butcher Street (not the identically branded coffee shop on the left side of course), they gave their orders to the serving girl.

"And a brandy," said her fairy godmother.

"Milady, we're a coffee shop. We don't serve…ah, yes, brandy," said the girl, noticing the godmother's wand come out. "Coming right up."

"Make sure the brandy's strong, dear!"

The girl scuttled off, causing Ella to wince. She'd been that girl once. Maybe one day she'd be given a fairy godmother of her own, and would get to rub noses with royalty, but she wasn't counting on it. When it came to unmarried princes willing or able to marry common girls, supply fell short of demand. Maybe that's why fairy godmothers were seemingly rare – they'd read the economic situation and diversified their magic portfolios.

"I must say, I'm surprised to hear the heralds speaking of Queen Elsabeth," her godmother said. "What was wrong with Cinderella?"

"Not regal enough."

"Ah." She smiled her pearly-white teeth in such a manner that made Ella want to break them. "And how is married life treating you?"

"Um…" Ella looked around, hoping to evade the subject. Out in the street, two girls were comparing their glass slippers. Both insisted that theirs were prettier, but to Ella, they looked identical.

"Ella?"

They reminded her of Anastasia and Drizella, she thought.

"Ella!"

"What?!" She hissed.

"Don't use that tone with me young lady, I didn't give you fame and fortune for you to speak to me like that."

Ella sighed, as her eyes once again lingered – not on the spoiled brats who were now pulling each others' hair, but the malnourished child not ten yards distant. The one begging for coin, in a city full of people who wanted to use their hard-earned money to buy footwear.

The coffee and brandy arrived, much to her fairy godmother's delight. Ella thanked the serving girl, while her godmother didn't. Raising the coffee to her lips, she smelt it.

Good. Strong. Hot. Better even than the coffee she could drink in the palace. A luxury she would have never been able to afford before marrying the prince. Looking around the coffee shop, she saw men and women drinking similar beverages, spending more coin in a day than many peasants earned in a month.

Still, she took a sip. It was bitter, and her lips pursed like a handbag.

"Ella, dear? Is something wrong?"

She looked back at her godmother. She didn't want to answer that question. But not wanting to lie either, she used the one word that could get her out of this predicament.

"Fine," she murmured.

"Oh goodie," her godmother laughed. "Why, if I hadn't transfigured my wings away, they'd be fluttering."

"You did what?"

"Oh don't worry, they'll grow back. I mean, just imagine if I went flying through these streets like a fairy. All of that lot would want wishes and such twaddle."

Ella's eyes narrowed. "That lot?" She whispered.

"You know, them," her godmother said, gesturing in the general direction of the girls now wrestling on the ground, and the child trying not to cry. "Those people."

"Fairy Godmother, one month ago I would have been counted among those people."

"Yes, but you're all better now," said her godmother, as she took a sip of brandy. "You worked hard, you got what you deserved, and all thanks to me."

Ella sipped her coffee. She'd wondered why her fairy godmother had requested this meeting. Now, she was already beginning to regret it.

"So how is life in the palace? Fine, I know, but details dear, details are everything."

A mental image filled Ella's mind of her wedding night. Those details…well, suffice to say, there was a reason why her flower wasn't bleeding these days.

"Ella?"

Deciding to spare her godmother the intricacies of securing a line of succession, Ella said, "I'm learning."

"Indeed?"

"Oh yes. You see, as it turns out, being queen means an awful lot of responsibility. I need to learn history, I need to learn diplomacy, I need to know when to speak, when not to speak, and when I speak, how to speak."

"How delightful," her grandmother said.

"Yes, delightful," Ella murmured, as she looked at the two girls. One of them had shattered her slipper and was trying to cut the throat of her rival. "Absolutely delightful…"

Her grandmother lowered her glass of brandy and gave her a look. "Ella, if there's something you want to say…"

"Oh God, she's bleeding!"

"Nothing, Fairy Godmother."

"Lord's sake man, the apothecaries, find them!"

"Nothing at all. I just…"

"The throat! Look at the poor girl's throat."

Ella looked at her guards and gave them permission to help the City Watch do their job of apprehending the would-be murderer, and try to save the life of the girl who was bleeding out in the street. Her fairy godmother appeared unperturbed by the whole thing, but still, she pushed on.

"I think this was a mistake."

"A mistake, my dear?"

"Yes. I meet a man whose name I can't even pronounce. I dance. I leave before midnight. He finds me the next day, we're married the day after that. Two weeks later his father dies and now I'm queen."

"A happy ending then."

"Yes. Happy." Ella swirled her coffee cup. It was a bitter drink, and her tongue was long scoured by similar taste.

"Ella?" Asked her godmother in a low voice. "You did get your happy ending didn't you?"

"I…" Her mouth opened and closed like a fish. She was in a role that she wasn't prepared for. She was married to a man who seemed fond of her, but spent more nights playing cards than being at her side. She was in a court who seemed to tolerate her, but she could not name a single lady-in-waiting as her friend.

And of course, there were the whispers. Witchcraft. Infidelity. The frank concerns that their king had married a servant girl with no wealth to her name, and robbed the kingdom of securing an alliance through marriage. And of course, complaints from the clergy that their windows were being smashed, because there wasn't enough glass to meet demand.

"Ella?"

"Of course, Fairy Godmother. I got my happy ending."

"Oh splendid. I'd be ever so upset if you didn't."

She blinked. "Really?"

"Oh yes. You see, if a fairy godmother works her magic on a girl who doesn't get her happy ending, then it looks very bad on them."

"How terrible," Ella said through clenched teeth.

"Oh yes. Terrible. You see, if we use our magic on the wrong people, we-"

"Who are the wrong people, Fairy Godmother?"

The glass of brandy, so close to the woman's lips, was slowly lowered.

"Who are the wrong people?" Ella repeated. "Who are the right people? Why aren't you using your magic to help them?"

She gestured to the street. One of the women had been loaded into the prison wagon. The other was having bandages wrapped round her neck. The little beggar boy was holding his hand out for coin, but none was forthcoming as the people gathered around the scene.

"Help them?" The fairy godmother asked. "Why Ella, whatever do you mean?"

"What?"

"If I helped every beggar, whoreson and vagabond, happy endings would have no meaning. If everyone got their glass slippers and pumpkin carriages and thoroughbred horses, I-"

"This isn't about the damn horses!"

A few heads turned their way. Part of Ella feared that they would recognize her as their queen, even if she was without crown, or wearing clothes more expensive than what the average family earned in a year. But the other part, the larger part, was glaring at her fairy godmother. A woman who was scowling at her in such a way that made her miss her real mother.

"My dear," said the fairy godmother stiffly, "I do believe that you are the most ungrateful, impertinent, acid-tongued young woman I've ever had to deal with."

"Do tell," Ella murmured.

Her glass of brandy (now empty) thumped down on the table. "I hear things, you know," her grandmother whispered. "One month, and not a single song from you in the garden. No knitting, little dancing, the most silly questions that do not befit a lady." She sniffed. "Actions most unbecoming, if I do say so myself."

Ella gripped the rim of her coffee cup.

"And really Ella, why don't you wear your glass slippers anymore? After all that effort I went to find the exact match to your foot size, the least you could do is-"

Still gripping the coffee cup, Ella poured its contents over her fairy godmother's head.

For a moment, neither of them said anything. Her fairy godmother just sat there, blinking. As if unable to comprehend what her not-fairy goddaughter had done. That her hair and robes were soaked. That…that…

"You little monster!"

Ah, there it is.

"You beast! You brute! You…you…reprobate!"

Ella didn't consider herself cruel. She hoped not, because she'd endured cruelty at the hands of her stepsisters and stepmother for more years than she had fingers. But still, she couldn't help but smirk at the sight of the uppity hag jumping up and down like an overgrown mushroom.

"You'd be nothing without me! I gave you your happy ending! I gave you everything you asked for and-"

"You know what? You're right."

"…I am?"

"You are," Ella said, as she got to her feet. "You did, Fairy Godmother. I asked to go to the ball, and you delivered. Be it through kindness or no, your actions were the same, and for that, I thank you."

"I…" The woman was having trouble forming words.

"But," Ella said, as she picked up some silvers from her purse, "this isn't the end of my story. I won't be sitting around knitting, or singing, or anything like that. I'm going to do the things your magic can't or won't do."

The serving girl ran over. "Ladies, are you alright?"

"And it starts today." Ella put the silvers in the girl's hand. "Payment for our beverages."

The girl stared. "My lady, this is…I'm not sure if we have the change to-"

"Oh, most of it's for you. Spend it, invest it, give it away. Just for the Lord's sake, don't buy any of those silly slippers."

The girl's lip began to tremble. Ella wondered if she'd said something wrong. The truth of the matter was, she'd suggested that a portion of the palace's coffers be emptied to help the most destitute, but she'd been laughed off every time – the soft heart of a woman, the master of coin had referred to it as.

"Silly girl," said the fairy godmother. "Mere coin cannot give her a happy ending. It's not meant for her. Only magic can-"

Sobbing, the girl hugged Ella, as she once hugged her mother. Perhaps the girl's mother still drew breath, perhaps not. As the embrace was broken, as the girl called her blessed and rushed inside to the stares of the patrons, Ella felt her own stomach.

There was no bump. Not yet. But still, she smiled.

"Ella? Ella, you can't do this!"

Why was the hag complaining, she wondered? She fastened her cloak and headed back into the street.

"Ella, this isn't your role. If everyone is happy, then happy endings don't matter! Magic doesn't matter!"

Ella gestured to her guards. While confused at the lady screeching at their queen, they nevertheless obeyed her hand signals to watch, but not act.

"Ella, if you carry on like this, I won't matter!"

The queen remained silent.

"Ella, you can't change the world! No-one has that power!"

"Perhaps not." She took out a single gold coin and gave it to the beggar boy. "But I can make it better for those within it."

She didn't see what the boy did next. She knew well enough that handing out coins willy nilly could invite unscrupulous attention. But still, with her fairy godmother screeching, most of the attention was on her, rather than the unscrupulously dressed young woman who was doing the Lord's work.

"Home, your grace?" Asked a guard.

"Home," she said, a smile on her lips. "And then, the real work begins."

Or so she hoped. She was given a monthly allowance as queen, and that was it. Access to the coffers was, for now at least, beyond her means.

Still, she had the ability to sell off her own possessions. And in at least one case, make a small fortune from them.

"Slippers! Get your glass slippers!"

After all, glass slippers were so in.