This story (and it really is a whole one this time, promise) is dedicated to Leah Kesri who was glad that I hadn't written it. Because that is the kind of terrible person I am.
The Plea
Once upon Thursday the 18th of April, at 10.50pm, a prince found his attention wandering until it was suddenly arrested by the sight of the most beautiful woman in the world, exquisitely clad in a dress that shone like the sun, descending the ballroom's grand staircase. Followed by the sight of the most beautiful woman in the world clutching desperately at the banister as her slippered feet slid on the staircase's dangerously polished marble.
The prince nearly hurried over to assist her, but then remembered himself and more importantly that the man he was speaking to was a very dignified and devious foreign official who had probably managed to stall two trade agreements, instigate a war, and secure his marriage to the king's wife's cousin while he had been distracted. When the prince looked up again, the most beautiful woman in the world was nowhere to be seen.
Later, as he went to get punch and garlic prawns, the prince spotted her again behind a large potted fern. On close inspection, she was not the most beautiful woman in the world, though definitely in the top one hundred; low seventies probably.
And sadly lacking in brains, the prince sighed as he sauntered towards her. "You know, a dark corner is not the best place to hide if one is wearing a dress that shines like the sun," he said by way of breaking the ice.
The ice did not so much as crack. If anything, it was covered over by a stiff haw frost. "And who are you?" the woman asked rudely, revealing her age to be younger than the prince had supposed, but it did not prevent his curt reply,
"I am your Sovereign Prince and Lord, young woman and you'd best remember it. Or I might take it into my head that you could do without yours."
"Oh please do," she muttered.
"What?"
"Oh please do ... let me make it up to you by dancing, with you, your Highness," the young woman stumbled her way through the sentence and awkwardly stuck out her arms which the prince took up before consulting his brain.
Before either of them quite realised what was happening, they were sucked into the waltz and swept around the ballroom.
The dress that shone like the sun was eye-watering in the light of thousands of stalactited candles. It was an unfortunate choice, bringing out the green in her eyes but making her complexion seem sallow, though undoubtedly an expensive one. The prince wondered that he did not recognise the face that went with such wealth. "Why don't I know you? For I am sure I would remember a lady as beautiful as yourself," he added belatedly.
The young woman made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a snort and tripped over his foot, perhaps accidentally. After a pause, she took a deep breath, opened her mouth, looked up at the prince, then fastened her gaze on a spot over his left shoulder and let the breath out in an irritated sigh.
They continued dancing in silence. By the hand on her waist, the prince could tell each time she sucked in air to speak and each time she huffed it out as she lost her nerve. It was not until the final chords of the waltz were winding themselves down that her courage was screwed to the sticking point.
"Pleaseyouhavetohelpme."
"What? I mean, I beg your pardon?" stuttered the prince.
"I am being kept as a virtual slave in my own home. I am forced to work by my step-mother and –sisters for no pay and scarcely room or board. The high neckline of my dress is not to frustrate roving eyes but cover the scars of my beatings. Please. You have to help me."
The clock struck half past eleven and the young woman startled out of his arms with an undignified Eep! which was not at all redeemed by the stream of expletives that trailed after her as she raced out of the room.
.o.o.o.
The Deal
Once upon Friday the 19th of April, at 10.59, the prince was waiting at the foot of the grand staircase and grabbed the young woman's wrist as soon as she appeared, pulling her into a shadowed embrasure.
"What??!?!!" he asked, his soul-deep, still-awake-as-dawn-was-breaking perplexity bursting out in a torrent of extraneous punctuation.
The young woman shuffled her feet and cast embarrassed looks over her shoulder. "Everyone's staring. Your Highness. Sir," she muttered.
"Your own silly fault for wearing a dress that, what's it doing? Glowing like the moon – what were you thinking?!"
Bridling, she hissed back, "I have no choice in the matter. Now would you ask me to dance before we have a minor scandal on our hands?"
Ignoring all his well-learned manners, the prince yanked on the young woman's wrist again, dragging her into the swirling waltz. They set off at a furious, jerky pace.
Though the prince's glare commanded instant explanation, the young woman waited until the soothing ¾ time had dulled it from murderous to severely unamused before speaking. "As I said yesterday, my present living conditions have become unacceptable and I would appreciate your help in alleviating said misery."
"And how do you propose I do that?" The prince did not realise his grip on her hand was tightening until her saw a flash of pain in her green eyes.
"I propose that you propose. You have a unique opportunity to engage anyone you so choose, and wouldn't it be noble and generous and Good of you if that choice aided someone in direst need? Please, it has to be you. I would not dare have be so forward if I could see any other way," she hesitated, gingerly testing the freedom her fingers were now afforded. "If I may be perfectly honest, I would much rather marry the grocer's boy, I'd better know how to act as a grocer's wife, but my step-mother is a powerful woman and–" she stopped again, grimaced, rolled her eyes and got it over with, "frankly, I need someone who can pull rank on her, and that means you. These balls were like a godsend. Oh, I know I'm objectifying you! Or status-ifying, or ... something."
The look on her face was so comically tragic, the prince almost laughed, but turned it into a cough and said gruffly, "And what's in it for me? If I may be equally candid."
"What more do you need? Your approval rating will go through the roof. It's oh so manly and masculine to rescue a forlorn young woman from Imprisonment most Perfidious and Dire. The people will admire and sing your praises for aye." She vapidly fluttered her eyelashes at him, her expression mock adoring, then pursed her lips in sudden thought. "Of course, the people are apt to be rather common, and will most likely translate your noble deed into bawdy lyrics which, while amusing, would not be the best first impression for your mother to have of me. Now, if you could manage to get kidnapped by pirates then marooned, and slay a dragon or two during our engagement some poet would be sure to write an epic poem about you. Though perhaps you should take one along with you, just to be sure."
The prince tamped down a smile. "Now you're just being silly; I'd strangle the man with his own artistic temperament if we got stuck on an island together." The young woman nodded in solemn agreement. "I'm afraid that won't do. What else?"
"I have a fairy godmother. I've only seen her work in women's clothing, but I dare say she'd be a dab hand at …" She hesitated, considering him up and down. "… embroidered pantaloons?"
He looked at her.
"Don't get uppity, your Highness, or she'll set her magic on you rather than to help you," the young woman warned.
"And I'll wake up one day as a frog?"
"No," she smiled evilly, and pinched his cheek like an old aunt. "A rabbit. A fluffy, cuddly, white rabbit, with big blue eyes and a twitchy pink nose. I will call you Snugly Snoogly, and you will be told how adorable you are for the rest of your life."
The prince's lips twitched, then grinned and he burst into chuckles.
The young woman straightened her hand, laying the palm to his cheek. He looked down at her again and suddenly realised her eyes weren't green at all, more yellowy at the centre and blue on the outsides with a smattering of brown spots.
"I could make you laugh every day."
Perhaps fortunately, her slippers slid out from under her once again, and the moment was lost in their struggle to stay upright. "More than once," she corrected herself, "if I go on wearing these silly things."
The clock began to chime the half-hour. The young woman sighed, almost in relief, took a deep breath and looked enquiringly at the prince.
"It would be an honour to rescue you, my lady," he said, raising her hand very properly to his lips.
She faltered, flushed, muttered an embarrassed thank you, and fled.
.o.o.o.
The Deal Breaker
Once upon Saturday the 20th of April, at 11.22pm, the prince had almost lost his patience and temper, when he saw his lady rushing down the stairs towards him.
"I'm so sorry. The family had pumpkin soup for dinner and I hadn't realised it was the last one so we were running about in such a fluster; I had to make do with a zucchini," she gasped in one breath.
Instead of trying to make sense of her explanation, the prince said what was foremost in his mind, "You look beautiful."
His lady's shy smile was touched with a hint of smug satisfaction. "I told her so. My fairy godmother was trying to get me into a dress that glittered like the stars but I held out for sparkling like morning dew on spring grass."
"It suits you. Would you care to dance, my lady? To wile away the time 'till twelve."
His outstretched hand was left hanging in the air. "Midnight?" his lady demanded. "What happens at midnight?"
"The engagement is announced," said the prince slowly.
There was a protracted pause filled with the chiming of the clock, and a faint whirring as his lady's brain began working double time.
"Ooo! Great new plan. What better way to capture the public's imagination than a lost love and a desperate maiden-hunt? Ratings would soar! So," she continued hurriedly, "I'll just slip out now while no one's watching, you can stand here looking adorably bewildered – Perfect! Sorry to love you and leave you, see you in a few days, ta-ta." She twirled in a cascade of sparkles, ran up the stairs, sliding only twice on the smooth marble, and dashed out the door.
"Wait!" the prince shouted, chasing after her. "I don't know your name!" But already it was to late, she had disappeared into the night.
Then something caught his eye. One of the hazardous slippers lay on the castle steps were his lady had abandoned it in her need for speed. The prince picked it up and smiled.
The end.
Congratulations for making it! You have just read a grand total of 1,921 words. I'm so sorry. It started out as just a thought that the entire Cinderella thing was a clever media play and then it snowballed in the telling.
