Title: Cinder Block
Character(s): Cinderella/Prince Charming
Folklore Used: German
Rating: PG
Summary: Cinderella meets Prince Charming at the ball.
Warning(s): Mild innuendo.



She walked toward the door, up the steps, and passed uniformed footmen and butlers. Her breath was catching in her throat, and she was sure it wasn't just from the tightness of her dress. Freaking herself out would do her no good, she knew, so when she reached the door, she gave herself a moment. Standing still for a second, she breathed deeply, trying to settle her nerves.

After that moment, she stepped through, stopping again just on the inside of the doorway. She looked down at the ball, at all of the beauty and wonderment that was before her. The dresses, the decorations, the music, it was all amazing; so much so that she could hardly take it all in, but she tried. She was afraid to blink, afraid that she might miss something.

Don't blink, she told herself, don't even blink.

Then, she saw him, the reason why there was a ball in the first place: the prince. From this distance, he looked perfect: his hair, his face, his clothes. In every way, he appeared to be what a prince should look like.

She continued to stand in the doorway, staring, gaping at him. She couldn't help it, he was beautiful, so beautiful he made her heart skip a beat, and she was desperate to be able to speak with him. She didn't know how she was going to manage it, since he was a prince, and she was ... only herself, a servant in her own house.

Closing her eyes, she scolded herself for letting herself think that way. Her step-mother and step-sisters may be horrible people, who treated her badly, but she did not deserve the things that they had done to her, she never had. She tried to hold onto the truth of that as she opened her eyes again.

And when they were opened, the whole world seemed to stop, becoming deathly still, and she could not seem to find her breath at all this time. As soon as soon as her eyes were opened, she saw that the prince was looking directly at her, a vague smile on his lips. She was going to get her chance to speak to him now, she was sure of it. But now she became terrified of what she might talk to him about. What could she possibly say to him to hold his attention? It wasn't as if she had been schooled in the same manner as he. What could she talk to him about that wouldn't make her look like she was a complete idiot?

Perhaps this was a very bad idea.

She made up her mind to turn back around, and go back home. But as she started to turn, she was swept up by other guests just arriving, and was pulled into the ballroom. Loosing herself in the crowd, she was glad of one thing: that the prince had lost her ... or at least, she hoped so.

For a moment, she felt safe, and then, thought that since she was there, she should get something to eat and drink. She was torn, not wanting to come across him, but wanting to try these fine things before going back home. She would never be able to eat or drink this well when she got back, her step-mother would make sure of that (just as she always had). Her whole life would return to exactly as it had always been.

Just as she was taking something bite-sized and delicious-looking from a plate, she felt as though there was someone standing behind her. If it weren’t for the fact that she felt as though whoever it was, was staring at her, she would have ignored the feeling completely. So, she hastily ate the finger-food, while taking a step away, in any direction where there seemed to be an opening in the crowd.

But as her foot came down in the first step of her escape, she felt a hand on her shoulder. Her first thought was that her step-mother had found her, and now she would be drug back home, but the grip wasn't quite iron-clad enough to be her step-mother. So, she turned, half-dreadful, half-hopeful as to what she might find.

And what she found was something she had hoped to avoid since she walked in: the prince. He was eve more beautiful close-up, than he had been from across the room, and his eyes were the most amazing shade of blue that she had ever seen. She had the fleeting thought that no one could have eyes the color of water that only showed up in her dreams. And as she felt herself starting to sink into his eyes, she pulled herself together; she was determined to not be one of those girls who got all swoony over a boy.

"Hello," he said, bowing to her slightly, and she remembered herself, curtsying in return. "I saw you coming in a moment ago, and had to tell you just how stunning I think you are."

"Me, highness?" she asked shyly, blushing brightly. "Surly there are others here who are far prettier than me, and whose dresses are far lovelier than mine."

"No," he said, drawing closer to her, "there is no one here lovelier than you. In fact, I would wager that there is no one as lovely in three kingdoms."

Her mind began to fog, and she only had enough conscious thought to register that her tongue had become glued to the roof of her mouth.

"Perhaps," he said, leaning in a little bit closer, so she could feel his breath on her neck, "the prettiest girl could give me one dance? Would that be acceptable?"

She felt her head bobbing up and down, as the voice in the back of her head was screaming at her to Wake up, Stupid! But that voice was easily drowned out by the sound of his voice, so close to her ear, and the feel of his breath on her.

Gracefully, he glided her toward the dance floor, stepping surely and confidently. And when they found a spot, he turned, in one, fluid motion, putting an arm securely around her waist. Waiting a beat before he started, he began to lead her around the floor. With the first step, she began to panic. What did she know about dancing? It wasn't as if she had ever been; there had never been time to learn, even to practice with her step-sisters, to help them to learn. So, she danced rather stiffly across the floor, trying her best to appear like she knew what she was doing.

"What is your name?" he asked her, tightening his grip around her waist.

"Does it matter?" she asked quietly, after a few moments.

"No," he said with a slight shrug, "I don't suppose it does. Not yet anyway. But I'd like to tell my parents the name of the girl that I am going to marry."

"You have already chosen me," she asked, suspiciously, "after only a few moments? Or is this what you've been telling all of the girls here tonight?"

"Does it matter?" he asked, his eyebrow raising slightly.

"Ah, using my own words against me. How very ironic."

"I thought so. Irony is one of my very favorite things in the world."

"You know," she said, pretending to be thoughtful, "I could tell that about you the moment I first saw you."

"So, I give off an air of loving irony? How marvelous."

"You certainly give off an air of something."

"You know, I usually have people confined for speaking to me in such a manner. Perhaps I should have you confined. Would my chambers do?"

She blushed furiously at this, looking down, and her feet stumbling underneath her. What on earth did he think of her, to be so bold with her? And she wondered how many others he had made that same offer to. Perhaps he was taking advantage of the ball in a way that the king and queen had not intended him to, and perhaps her determination to come had been misguided.

"You seem surprised by my request," he said slyly. "Why else would you think I would agree to attend such a ball?"

"You have no intention of finding a queen?" she asked, looking up, the blush still pinkening her cheeks and ears.

"Do you really think that I would find someone in one evening, after speaking to all of the eligible maidens in the kingdom? No, that's completely unrealistic. Besides, it's not as though someone in my position could marry for love. The most I could hope for is to have an arranged marriage where we grow to accept each other's presence as a necessary evil. All this ball does is give false hope to anyone who attends, who is a maiden, or who has a daughter of the right age. But if I can find a few pretty ones, who would not find it objectionable, maybe this night can be salvaged."

She took a step back, pulling herself out of his grasp. So, this was the kind of man that she had made all of this effort for. He wasn’t really interested in anyone else; he was only concerned with himself, and the likelihood of him getting a bit of stuff.

"Are you alright?" he asked, seeming concerned. "You're pale all of a sudden."

"Yes," she said shakily, "I'm fine."

"I don't think you are. You look like you could faint any second. Why don't you come with me outside, where you can get out of this stuffy ballroom, into the cool night air, and get you somewhere where you can sit down?"

"No, really," she said, her voice much more sure this time, "I'm quite well. Thank you for your concern, but I really should be going."

"Wait, please," he said, his voice pleading. "Don't go. I'm sorry if I've offended you. Sometimes I take a joke a little too far, not knowing quite when to stop."

"I'm sorry, I really must get going. It's getting rather late."

"But you just got here," he said, trying to put a hand on her arm, as she moved away, trying to keep her there with him.

"It was a mistake coming here in the first place," she muttered to herself, as she turned, and hurried away.

He tried to grab a hold of her, but she wove herself too quickly, in and out of the other people, for him to get a grip.

"Please," he said toward her. "I'm sorry. Please, come back, I've made a terrible mistake."

But she did not stop; she continued moving away from him as quickly as she could. All she wanted to do was to put this night behind her, and get back to her small room at home.

She stumbled on the steps outside, her feet coming out of one shoe, and then, the other. For only the briefest second, she thought about stopping to pick them up. When she got back home, she would miss them, if she didn't have them anymore. Her step-mother might also notice that they were gone, at some point, but right now, she didn't care; she would take the punishment from her step-mother, whatever it may be, if it ever actually happened. Whatever it was would be better than being here for even a moment longer.

As she ran, barefoot, her skirts hiked up for easier movement, she chided herself again for even thinking about coming here. If what he said had really only been an attempt at humor, from one noble to (what she assumed he thought she was) another, she had not found it funny at all. How could she have thought she could pretend to be one of them, when his behavior had completely appalled her? She doubted that she would be able to look him in the face after that (if she had stayed), because all she would see was someone who thought of her only as an ends to a means.

Reaching the grounds where her home was located, she was finally relieved. Well, that was until she heard the sound of horse hooves and a carriage being pulled behind them. She turned, trying to see who it was.

Her step-mother and step-sisters were home. She was going to have to be quick if she didn't want them to see her. As soon as they saw her dress, they would know that she had been at the ball.

She was going to have to be quick.