[Cinderella: Drabble] "The Road to Happiness" [Cinderella/Prince, G]
Title: The Road to Happiness
Prompt: writerverse challenge #14 October table of doom
Photo Used: photo #6
Word Count: 553
Rating: G
Original/Fandom: Cinderella (no particular version)
Pairings: Cinderella/Prince Edward
Summary: Cinderella catches up with the prince before he leaves with her slipper.
Note(s): originally posted to the writerverse wv_library
The Road to Happiness
The prince was leaving.
Cinderella watched him through a crack in the kitchen window, a new ache in her heart for every beat of his horse’s hooves against the cobblestones. The heavy wooden door to the portico between the house and the kitchen had been locked by her stepmother the moment the prince and his men-at-arms had arrived- as it always was when guests came unexpectedly, in case one of them should ever have recognized Cinderella from her childhood as the manor’s true heir.
But in all those years, Cinderella had never actually looked for another way out. She had never wanted to leave as badly as she did at that moment, had never been willing to risk her stepmother’s wrath to even try.
Prince Edward was a very good reason.
The frame of the broken window was old and warped, and when Cinderella finally got it open, it swung upwards with such force that bits of glass showered down on her. She brushed them, distractedly, from her hair and hauled herself through the open window.
Cinderella’s skirts caught in the brambles in what had once been lovely flowerbeds, but she pulled them free, hurrying down the wooded slope that led to the bottom of the driveway. As she reached the edge of the trees, she caught her foot on a root and tumbled into the road, landing almost at the prince’s feet.
He brought his horse up sharply and dismounted. “Are you all right, miss?”
She ducked her head. “I… I believe so, Your Highness.”
“I did not see you at the manor,” he said, glancing back up at the house. “But we have met somewhere before.”
“I-”
“Perhaps she is a servant at another house?” one of his men-at-arms suggested. “We could offer her a ride to her home.”
The prince shook his head, still looking only at Cinderella. “No, we have met. We have spoken, you and I. But your face was… and your hair…”
Cinderella held her breath as he reached toward her, but he only plucked something from her hair, which he held up to catch the light.
“Glass,” he said. “And you’ve lost your shoe. Your left shoe- Gregory, the slipper!”
The man-at-arms who had not spoken before slid from his horse, carrying a carved wooden box. He held it out to Prince Edward, who opened it and drew out a familiar glass slipper.
“May I?” asked the prince, holding out his hand, and Cinderella nodded.
He took her hand, gently, then dropped to one knee, helping her balance as she slid her foot into the shoe.
It fit perfectly.
“It’s you,” the prince breathed, rising again and taking both of her hands. “I feared I would never find you.”
“But she’s a servant,” protested Gregory, still holding the slipper box.
“She is the girl I met and danced with and fell in love with at the ball,” said Prince Edward. “She is the girl who fits the glass slipper and she is the girl I will marry… if she’ll have me.”
“Yes!” cried Cinderella. “Oh, yes, Your Highness.”
He released her hands to cup her face. “Please never call me that again. It must always be ‘Edward’ or I shall feel unworthy to be your husband.”
“Edward,” she repeated. “Then you should call me ‘Ella’.”
THE END
Current Mood:
blah
Prompt: writerverse challenge #14 October table of doom
Photo Used: photo #6
Word Count: 553
Rating: G
Original/Fandom: Cinderella (no particular version)
Pairings: Cinderella/Prince Edward
Summary: Cinderella catches up with the prince before he leaves with her slipper.
Note(s): originally posted to the writerverse wv_library
The Road to Happiness
The prince was leaving.
Cinderella watched him through a crack in the kitchen window, a new ache in her heart for every beat of his horse’s hooves against the cobblestones. The heavy wooden door to the portico between the house and the kitchen had been locked by her stepmother the moment the prince and his men-at-arms had arrived- as it always was when guests came unexpectedly, in case one of them should ever have recognized Cinderella from her childhood as the manor’s true heir.
But in all those years, Cinderella had never actually looked for another way out. She had never wanted to leave as badly as she did at that moment, had never been willing to risk her stepmother’s wrath to even try.
Prince Edward was a very good reason.
The frame of the broken window was old and warped, and when Cinderella finally got it open, it swung upwards with such force that bits of glass showered down on her. She brushed them, distractedly, from her hair and hauled herself through the open window.
Cinderella’s skirts caught in the brambles in what had once been lovely flowerbeds, but she pulled them free, hurrying down the wooded slope that led to the bottom of the driveway. As she reached the edge of the trees, she caught her foot on a root and tumbled into the road, landing almost at the prince’s feet.
He brought his horse up sharply and dismounted. “Are you all right, miss?”
She ducked her head. “I… I believe so, Your Highness.”
“I did not see you at the manor,” he said, glancing back up at the house. “But we have met somewhere before.”
“I-”
“Perhaps she is a servant at another house?” one of his men-at-arms suggested. “We could offer her a ride to her home.”
The prince shook his head, still looking only at Cinderella. “No, we have met. We have spoken, you and I. But your face was… and your hair…”
Cinderella held her breath as he reached toward her, but he only plucked something from her hair, which he held up to catch the light.
“Glass,” he said. “And you’ve lost your shoe. Your left shoe- Gregory, the slipper!”
The man-at-arms who had not spoken before slid from his horse, carrying a carved wooden box. He held it out to Prince Edward, who opened it and drew out a familiar glass slipper.
“May I?” asked the prince, holding out his hand, and Cinderella nodded.
He took her hand, gently, then dropped to one knee, helping her balance as she slid her foot into the shoe.
It fit perfectly.
“It’s you,” the prince breathed, rising again and taking both of her hands. “I feared I would never find you.”
“But she’s a servant,” protested Gregory, still holding the slipper box.
“She is the girl I met and danced with and fell in love with at the ball,” said Prince Edward. “She is the girl who fits the glass slipper and she is the girl I will marry… if she’ll have me.”
“Yes!” cried Cinderella. “Oh, yes, Your Highness.”
He released her hands to cup her face. “Please never call me that again. It must always be ‘Edward’ or I shall feel unworthy to be your husband.”
“Edward,” she repeated. “Then you should call me ‘Ella’.”
THE END
Current Mood:
blah