CHAPTER SIX
A/N: The step-family to Cinderella shows its true colors in this longer chapter.
This one is slightly edited, but if you read the original when it was posted here under ..."Slightly Different...", you don't need to re-read this one.
BTW: I'll give you a cookie if you can guess the significance of the town of Casterborous (which I don't own).
Dalena found Cinderella cleaning the fireplace when she reached home that day; her step sister's lovely face was smudged with soot. She secretly was glad that her step sister looked the worse for wear, but didn't voice her opinion. Cinderella stood to admire her handiwork, then turned, aware that someone was behind her.
"Was there something you wanted?" She asked Dalena, in a slightly breathless voice.
Dalena took a rag and, to Cinderella's surprise, started cleaning. "Prince Edward…what do you know about him?" Dalena asked.
Cinderella thought for a long moment, not at all sure what to say. She was so shocked that Magdalena would trouble her for anything, except to issue orders. The other few times Cinderella had tried to make any kind of conversation, she was rewarded for her efforts with stony silence. "I really don't know much," she honestly admitted to Dalena, "except that he seems nice."
"Nice is not how I would describe him," Dalena commented. "He is very…intense, I think. You would not know of such things…"
"I know what 'intense' means," Cinderella said, frowning. "What I don't know is why that is significant."
"Intenseness is where passion begins," Magdalena said softly, switching the cleaning rag to the other hand. "Haven't you ever wanted…I don't know…a man who would be full of passion, who'd sweep you off your feet? A man who wouldn't be concerned so much with rules and regulations, especially about ladies?"
"I never thought about it much," Cinderella told her step sister. Dalena stopped cleaning, staring at her. For a moment, both girls regarded each other. "Still," Cinderella mused, "I would not want to be bored with a man. I spend so much of my time alone, cooking…cleaning. I have to invent ways to entertain myself. Sometimes, I pretend that the mop is a man, and I often dance with it."
Dalena's ears perked with interest. "Any man, or the Prince?" She queried.
"Mostly the Prince," Cinderella said. Dalena handed the cleaning rag back to her step sister, her eyes frosting over. She felt the stab of jealousy as she turned away.
"I don't know why I came in here," Dalena said frostily. She walked out of the room, leaving a bewildered Cinderella behind.
As she worked on another side of the fireplace, the Little Cinder Girl, as she was nick named by her family, thought about her conversation with Dalena. What did she really want from a man? Did she want a homebody…someone who would be good around the house? She violently shook her head at that thought. Did she want someone who would be adventurous…someone who would travel great distances, and who would view life with the curious nature of a child, yet contain a measure of maturity? Would he be one who wanted children, or one who wanted only a wife? Would he be educated in the sciences, or have the soul of a poet, or a musician? The more Cinderella thought about it, the more she came to the conclusion that she really didn't know what she wanted, at least not on the surface, but she knew that in her soul, her mate had been decided for her. She realized that when he did dance with her, and took her in his arms, she would know on some level that he was hers, and hers alone.
XXXXXX
Across the wood, in the magic glen, a young male was having similar thoughts. The man the Prince knew as Bartholemew walked with the old man he had visited earlier in the cottage in the woods.
"Max, have you ever been in love?" he asked his older mentor.
"You mean, our brand of love, or love for the ones we help?" Max asked.
"Any brand of love," the young man asked. "I have heard of it, but I don't understand it. Why do people write sonnets about it, and why do the songs proclaim it more than any other emotion?"
"It is the greatest emotion in the universe," Max declared. "More so than hate, or fear, or even just simple affection. It controls and influences all good feelings amongst all beings. That is why it is so important."
"What makes our type of love different, then?" Max's young pupil wanted to know.
Max thought a moment before saying, "We inspire the emotion by our mystic powers, but our charges, humans that is…they often find it on their own. Our dust stirs up the dormant emotion in some, but it takes the strength of their love for each other to complete the emotional cycle."
"Is there a way our kind can know the humans' kind of love?" the young man asked.
Max peered at him, querying, "Why all of these questions about love?"
"Just curious," Max's student responded, shrugging.
"There have been some cases of our kind being exposed to human love," Max said slowly.
"What does it feel like?" the young man pressed.
"It is much like the sky when a thunder storm brews," Max said. "It develops slowly, as clouds developing on the horizon do. Then, it can grip you with such intensity, you feel as though you are in a hurricane. But after that, there is a calmness, and peace that settles over you, especially when it becomes clear that you love the other. It proceeds in phases, you see."
"There are different types of it?" the young man asked.
Max nodded. "It affects different beings in different ways," Max confirmed. "Usually, our kind perceives it more intensely, because we are connected with so many more forces of energy than humans are. For example, when we allow ourselves to, we can see the auras that humans put out. That is often times how we screen out the good humans from the evil ones. It is how you knew the maid you are to help is worthy. Humans have not that talent. That is why they confuse love with other emotions, and don't always find the ideal soul mate."
The young man nodded, digesting every word Max said. Max continued: "when you love someone, you will know it, because that being will become a part of you. Your soul mate's aura will shine brighter than any other. It may start off as something else, like friendship or attraction, but it will blossom over time into something that will complete you…something that will make you want to nourish your time with your mate…something that will entice you to put her happiness and well being above your own."
"I wonder that I will ever find something like that," Max's student said wryly.
"Perhaps," Max told his young charge. He regarded the young man for a moment, saying, "Now, then…what's happening with Cinderella and her family?"
XXXXXX
Griselda was singing at the top of her voice, sounding for all the world like a banshee.
"No, no, no, Griselda!" Her mother cried. "You must sing in gentile tones, the tones of a lady!"
"I am loud…that is my nature," Griselda said. "If the Prince doesn't like it, then he will have to adjust."
"That is not the way of things!" Cinderella's step mother shouted. As Griselda and her mother got into a shouting match, Magdalena sighed. Downstairs, Cinderella was humming her own song, totally oblivious to the goings on upstairs, as she scrubbed and cleaned.
There was a knock at the door. Cinderella jumped up to open it. "Yes?" She asked.
"A message from the King," a squire said, giving Cinderella an appreciative glance. He handed the parchment to her. She took the parchment from the squire. When the squire left, Cinderella ran up the stairs to her step mother.
"Cinderella!" the step mother snapped. "There had better be a good reason for you disturbing our music lesson!" The woman noticed the parchment in the girl's hand with the royal seal etched upon it. "What is that you have in your hand? Why did you not give it to me earlier?" The step mother asked.
"It arrived just now, Madame," Cinderella said. Her step mother held out her hand expectantly. Cinderella handed the parchment over, watching as the step mother read it silently.
To All Eligible Maidens and their Families:
You are, hereby, invited to a ball in the honor of his Majesty, Prince Edward's triumphant return to our kingdom of Aramathea by the royal request of King Edward, and Queen Isabelle.
The ball will be held at the King's domain within 30 days on the eve of June the Third. It is by invitation only. The event shall commence at 9 in the eve, and continue until the wee hours of the morn. Formal dress is required.
Only the most gentile of manners will be tolerated. Guests are advised they are to be practiced in the art of waltzing, and the dance styles of the Kingdoms of Madea, Casteroborus, and Pulmonya.
Transportation shall be provided to this event. May the blessings of Heaven be upon this event in this year of Our Lord.
"Great news, my daughters!" She cried.
"What is it, Mother?" Griselda asked, not in the least excited.
"There is to be a ball within a month's time in honor of the Prince," the step mother said. "All maidens and their families are to attend!"
Magdalena's eyes widened. She then calculated all the possibilities as she imagined seeing the Prince again.
"Perhaps we can use this as the opportunity to seek the Prince's favors," the step mother said, a calculating look in her eyes. "He is not married, and I have a feeling there is more than just the celebration of his return on the agenda."
"Whatever do you mean, Mother?" Griselda asked.
"Do you not see, child?" the step mother said. "He is twenty…already two years past the marriageable age. He should have been with a wife by the age of eighteen. That means, the King and Queen will be using his return as an excuse to select a wife! I am sure of it! This parchment would not have sought 'guests who are practiced in the art of waltzing', and 'the most gentile of manners' if they were only celebrating a return!"
The step mother flew to her armoire, selecting gowns, and tossing them on the bed. "Now," she said, "we must all be the best in manners, culture, education…I want the Prince to notice no one but my two, lovely daughters!"
"What about me?" Cinderella asked. The step mother pretended not to hear; she selected some berry dye for makeup, and some herbal cream jars from her dresser.
"What about me, step mother?" Cinderella pressed. "Can I not go?"
Cinderella's eyes misted at the uproarious laughter directed at her. "Won't that be a kick in the head?" Griselda mocked. "Cinderella, our sooty step sister, going to the ball. What shall you wear? Your old cleaning dress? Or perhaps, your ball gown…oh! I forgot…you have NOTHING but your cleaning dress!" Both she and Magdalena laughed again.
"Well…" Cinderella mildly protested, "It says 'all eligible maidens and their families'. Am I not a maiden?"
The step mother's cruel eyes raked over her step daughter. Her hatred at Cinderella's beauty and good nature sparked to life. She glanced at her daughters, silently willing them to be quiet.
Turning back to Cinderella, the step mother said coldly, "Indeed, you are…and you are of marriageable age. I shall strike a bargain with you. If you complete your chores by a month's time, and if you can find something suitable to wear, and if you can train in manners, dancing, and engaging conversation, I see no reason why you can't go…"
"Oh, thank you, step mother, thank you so much!" Cinderella cried happily. She ran down to her room, excited at the possibility of leaving the house, even if it was only for a little while.
"Mother!" Griselda cried. "Have you lost your mind?"
The older woman fingered the parchment, saying, "No, I have not. I did say 'if'. It is amazing how the chores can pile up around here. As for the training, where would she find the coin for it? And even if someone could assist her, how would she find suitable garments?"
"Ahh…" Magdalena said. "You are brilliant, Mother." The trio laughed at the cruel joke they would play on the hapless girl.
"Now, my doves, we have a lot of work to do," the step mother said. "You must be trained properly in manners, diction, and dancing. I want absolutely nothing to spoil that evening!"