wallflower_r                   ... in "Weekly Writing Contests" ... Prompt #10 ... Due March 31st ... (100-2500 words) ... Prompt: A re-telling of the Cinderella tale. What if she never got away but instead the magic wore off and the prince saw who she was?

The prince fell back a few steps sputtering and pointing at the young beauty he'd danced half the evening with. A moment ago she had been twirling in his arms to the faint sound of the orchestra, which was carried by a gentle breeze out into the garden where the two of them had been quietly and happily soaking up each other's company undisturbed. And now she was ripped from his arms by some magical force he was unable to counter as she was stripped of her sparkling tiara, her exquisite diamond encrusted gown and every vestige of wealth and refinement she'd been adorned in. The prince hardly knew what to do.

When the enchantment was undone he stared in abject horror at the dirty, forlorn, servant girl who stood before him in a torn dress with grass stains. He took comfort in the fact that she looked truly mortified by the unexpected change.

The prince watched with curious wonder as her mouth fell open with shock but not a single sound escaped her throat. She had such a pretty mouth. Such delicate, kissable lips. He shook himself of the thought. Now was not the time. Actually, never was not the time - she was a bloody servant!

"What is this witchery?" he demanded to know in a furious voice feeling equal parts duped, crushed and bewildered.

Her stunningly dark eyes, which he'd been lost in only moments ago, were glassy with unshed tears. She blinked and the first tear crested her eye lashes and spilled down her soft cheek. He'd caressed that cheek with his own hand half the night. He'd never felt closer to another human being his entire life before ... before her.

The tears of a woman and the tears of a child could wind their own spells around a man's unsuspecting heart. So, the prince very carefully hardened his heart against her tears now. She had deceived him and with a magical spell no less. What other things might she have done to him if he had not unwittingly discovered her ruse?

"Speak!" he commanded. He was so close to calling the Imperial Guards. He was on the verge of shouting for someone to arrest her and cast her into the deepest, darkest dungeon. Betrayal stung the pride but lacerated an open and trusting heart.

"I only meant to dance," she explained piteously as she hastily wiped at the tears which she could not stem. She looked as heartbroken as he felt. It was some consolation.

"Stepmother promised I could come. The invitation said all eligible ladies," she hiccuped and her shoulders sagged in her despondency. "I only meant to dance," she half whispered, half choked out again as if that explained everything. As if it absolved her of all responsibility for this treachery - for stealing his affections.

"Why the disguise?" he demand loudly, refusing to give in to his desire to comfort her and tell her all would be well. He folded his arms across his wide chest to give the appearance of a tall and menacing figure, which he was not.

If she had come dressed in anything less than the glories of a princess of wealth and rank he would never have brought her to the garden. He would have danced a single dance with her, as was expected, and kept moving through the crowds of eligible young ladies until he found a suitable princess to romance all night with his wit and charm.

He never would have stooped so low as to dance all night with a servant girl whether to openly deceive her and lead her on or to embarrass his meddling parents who concocted this ball in the first place just to see him married off. No matter how frustrated he was with his own personal problems in the palace, he knew this wasn't done - traipsing off with a servant for a night of carefree dancing in the garden. Neither his parents or the kingdom would countenance a marriage between himself and a servant girl.

The prince let out a frustrated sigh as he gazed longingly at her precious face. Whether dressed in riches or rags she still made an impact on his heart. It beat a bit wildly for her even though she'd been exposed as a fraud right before his eyes, and it hurt him deeply that his own heart would betray him as well.

She began to speak again and his attention was immediately drawn to her mouth. The mouth he had so badly wanted to kiss before the night was through. He still wanted to kiss that mouth. He sighed again and tried to concentrate on what she was saying.

"My stepmother tore my mother's dress from my limbs," she answered softly. He watched her face fill with pain and sorrow just before she averted her eyes to the ground. Her hands lovingly smoothed the torn material of the dress she wore now.

"How did you come to be dressed like royalty? Does your stepmother belong to a royal household? Did you steal one of her gowns?" the prince asked with a cold edge still in his voice. Was she a servant and a thief? He blanched at the thought. But, his heart took issue with the notion that the young woman he'd fallen for was anything but honourable and lovely in every respect. His heart was turning out to be as treacherous as the beautiful servant before him.

The prince groaned with frustration at himself and refused to give in to his feelings. He would not be swayed by how fragile and little she appeared now that she stood before him in nothing but rags. Well, upon closer inspection, he did believe she was wearing an outdated ball gown actually.

He stepped toward her and reached out a hand to touch the silk sleeve that was torn very recently. It seemed, perhaps, that the tale of her ruined dress was true. He released the material and stepped back. He did not want to fall into any temptation to ease her worried mind just yet.

"Well?" he demanded when she did not readily reply. The prince winced when she seemed to fold into herself a little at his tone. He regretted being so sharp with her instantly and that regret irked him. He was the one who had been deceived. She had willingly led him on. Hadn't she?

"I ran to the garden and cried at the foot of my mother's favourite tree," she began to explain. "Not long after a woman of unimaginable beauty stirred me and said that she could send me to the ball in style. She claimed to be my godmother and I was too hopeful to protest. I arose and she waved a magic wand several times. The last thing she made me was the dress and the glass slippers I wore here."

At this point in her story she looked up at the prince and her face was lit with awe and wonder. "It was the most magnificent dress I had ever seen and the finest shoes I had ever worn, my Lord. All I wanted to do was dance all night," she revealed to him with a whimsical smile that faded quite quickly when she looked back down at the ruins of her mother's old gown.

The prince was struck to the very core by the innocence he saw in her lovely, upturned face. No tears and no amount of crying could ruin such a sweet and endearing expression. His heart fluttered. She really was a wonderful creature.

His resolve gave way to the loud ruckus his heart was making. It berated him for making her so miserable, for treating her like a criminal, for accusing her of treachery and looking down his own imperfect nose at her.

The truth was, she was the most delightful person he had ever known and his heart told him quite clearly that it was obvious she hadn't meant to deceive him. It was him who, after all, whisked her away from the dance floor and enticed her to come out into the garden alone with him. He sighed feeling a little disgusted with himself.

"Come," he said to her gently as he offered her his hand. "You cannot remain here as you are. I will escort you to a palace carriage and have you sent home before anyone can discover you as you are." He gave her an earnest smile and she looked relieved as she approached and took his hand.

Click, click, click, went her shoes on the flagstones in the garden. The prince looked down at her feet, which were still encased in the delicate glass slippers her godmother had given her. He and she alike were astonished to see that the slippers had not vanished. No sooner had he seen them, then the prince began to hatch a plan as he quietly escorted her through the garden and out into the cobblestone courtyard where the royal coaches were kept.

He gathered a maidservant to accompany her and a coachmen. He gave both servants strict instructions not to speak a word of the woman or where they went to anyone but himself. The servants gladly agreed though they looked on at the attractive young woman in the tattered dress with burning curiosity.

Feeling a bit embarrassed the prince leaned into the carriage and quietly asked the woman who held his heart, "What is your name?"

She smiled at him shyly and replied, "Cinderella."

He returned her shy smile and asked a second question, "May I have your glass slippers Cinderella?"

Her smile faded and her beautiful dark brown eyes filled with anxiety. "I'll have nothing left to remember this night by," she confessed honestly.

The prince smiled tenderly at her and offered her this encouragement, "If you leave me the slippers I promise you will have a lifetime of nights like this one."

Cinderella looked at him as if he'd promised her the moon and the stars. Her eyes were full of wonder and hope. She slipped her feet from the slippers, scooped them up and offered them to the prince. He took them and offered her a reassuring smile as he stepped away from the carriage and let the coachman close the door.

He waved to the girl of his dreams as the carriage pulled away. This was not going to be the last time he saw her. No, indeed. He looked down at the treasure in his hands. He was going to buy Cinderella a title with the glass slippers and then no one could refuse him when he proposed to marry her.

Well, Cinderella could refuse him but his heart taught him to hope and believe nonetheless.

(1803)