Dearest Cinderella (8 page)

"I can explain-"

"Save your words madam, they
cannot help you now." She took a step back from the raw anger she
saw in him. "Cinderella," he called out, "stand away from the
door." He waited until there was no more shuffling to be heard on
the other side before he took a step back and with all his weight
kicked his boot into the door with such force that it gave way at
the hinges and came crashing down.

Cinderella had been expecting
Anabeth and Rebecca when she detected commotion just outside of her
door. But when a distinct baritone voice had called out her name
she knew, Jon had come for her. The Prince walked through the
doorway, murder in his eyes before he caught sight of her, standing
in the corner of the room, trying to look halfway presentable in
her usual rags. Immediately his eyes softened as he took the sight
of her in and he smiled. Behind him came her stepmother and two
sisters, the butler wisely stayed away. Slowly he walked towards
Cinderella before her stepmother called out behind him.

"You cannot engage with her!" He
spun on his heel.

"You are mistaken if you think
your opinion means anything to me." The woman refused to stand
down, stiffening her upper lip and straightening her back.

"She is not my daughter!" There
was silence. Cinderella heart felt as if it were gripped in a
vice.

"You are correct mother, she is
not our sister." Rebecca began, behind her mother, "She is our
cousin." Cinderella couldn't breathe, undeniably touched by her
sister's actions. Anabeth nodded next to her sister.

"Of course she is not our
sister, mother, that would be ridiculous. She's the daughter of the
Earl's youngest brother... Which would make her our cousin.
Obviously." Anabeth spoke as though she were talking to an infant.
Their mother turned to them, making sounds of outrage.

"Your Majesty-"

"Enough." He roared. "Take your
daughters and exit the room."

"But-"

"Would you defy your Prince?"
His words thundered down on her until she was forced to bow and
mutter a very small,

"No, your Highness." She turned,
sparing a glare at Cinderella and exiting the room. Anabeth and
Rebecca offered him small smiles, bowing and exiting the room
behind her. The Prince turned back to Cinderella, who had tears in
her eyes. He reached out to cup her cheek with his palm. The
contact caused several tears to roll down her cheeks. He brushed
them away with the pads of his thumbs.

"Why did you not tell me it was
you?" He asked. She tried to avoid eye contact with him, which
proved to be impossible due to the way his hands held her.

"I was afraid." She
whispered.

"Are you still afraid?"

"Can I tell you something?" she
brought her hands up to grip his wrists and pull them down so that
they were entwined at their sides.

"For you, anything." She licked
her dry lips, trying to will her mouth to open. Fear was a powerful
thing but as Cinderella stood there, thinking of the way her
sisters had stood up for her, she couldn't help but believe that
love was more powerful than fear. Her sisters' love had healed a
part of her that had always thought she was unlovable. With the
memory of their selflessness, she took a deep breath and opened her
mouth.

"They are my sisters.
My...half-sisters. I am the product of the late Earl and his
mistress. That is why I ran, because I am not worthy." She took
another deep raggedy breath, avoiding his eyes. "I never imagined
that you would be the Prince. It is impossible, even you must see
that."

"Cinderella." He waited for her
to look at him, long seconds passed before she gave in and stared
back at him. Slowly, he lowered his knee until, to her horror, he
knelt on the ground before her. She pulled at his arms, trying to
wrench him up to stand again.

"Are you insane?" He
laughed.

"Maybe. Now, let me tell you
what I see. I see girl who has been treated poorly most of her life
but still manages to be the kindest woman I've ever known."

"Please." She pleaded with him
to stand up. Mark knew that it was hard for her to accept praise,
but he'd have been damned if he were to be stopped. Nothing short
of the Kings army could have blocked him from telling her exactly
why she was more than worthy.

"I see a woman who has not
called me 'your Majesty' or 'your Highness' or 'your Anything'
since I walked into the room. A woman who treats me as an equal. A
woman I want to spend the rest of my life with. She is honest and
funny and genuine. She could not have told me about the situation
surrounding her birth, but she chose to because she is decent. I
see the woman I love and want to marry. Do you see?" He looked up
hopefully at the fresh tears in Cinderella's eyes, praying that
they were borne of happiness and not of sadness. She nodded
silently, unable to form words because of the emotion that had
lodged in her throat. "Will you marry me?" She cleared her throat,
wiping the tears from her eyes and offering him a watery grin.

"I love you." He stood, taking
her in his arms and kissing her. When they drew away from each
other they both laughed, unbelieving of their good favor.

"So, you'll marry me?

"Yes, your Highness." She
laughed, he laughed and they embraced again.

EPILOGUE

From that moment, Cinderella's
life changed drastically. It wasn't perfect, for nothing in life
truly was, but it was filled with sunshine and laughter and
everything she'd been denied during her childhood. Each day she
faced new trials and tribulations, but with the Prince's support,
she was more than capable of dealing with them. Eventually, the
Prince's family warmed to her, seeing the degree of kindness in her
heart made it hard for them to remain cold for long. The kingdom
soon followed suit. Her sisters visited her where they quickly grew
closer. Cinderella had all of her gowns made at Fairgem's modiste,
leading all the nobility to want their dresses made similarly.
Fairgem became very popular, she served almost everyone, except for
Cinderella's stepmother of course. It took years for Cinderella to
accept that she was worthy, some darkness takes longer to be driven
away than most. Each day they left each other little notes, most
often they were simple reaffirmations of their love for one
another. On their 50th wedding anniversary they took a private trip
to the forest where they searched for that old oak tree again. When
they found it they dismounted their horse and dug up the diary
together. They spent the evening laughing at their younger selves,
cringing and kissing. They found themselves thankful for the life
they'd been granted together. That it may never have happened if
she hadn't have left her diary in the forest and he hadn’t have had
the good sense to find it.