Writeober Day 2 - Graceful
Day 2 is... Cinderella! From the prince’s perspective! With a twist! It’s almost 1 am and I completely rewrote my story for today after watching Cinderella 2 hours ago. Enjoy! :)
The prince stood, bored out of his mind at his father’s side as princess after princess introduced themselves. Sure, they were beautiful, but just standing there was mind-numbing. How was he supposed to choose a bride if he knew nothing about the women he was speaking to? At least Clara, his sister, could mingle as she pleased. Then again, being forced into chatting with the other ladies of the court probably wasn’t as thrilling as it currently seemed to the weary prince. Clara was a lively one, always pulling pranks and finding new ways to create unbridled chaos. She was an artist at heart, and you could usually find her in a tree with a sketchbook and a torn dress. Listening to the ladies jabber about what gowns they would wear to their next luncheon was not her idea of a good time.
More ladies arrived and the prince’s gaze was torn away from his sister for a moment. When he looked up again she was gone, and he was confused for a moment until she suddenly appeared at his side.
“Heya, Tom!” He pinched the bridge of his nose before giving her a tight smile.
“Thomas, Clar, you know I hate that nickname.”
“Correct! I do know that! Which is precisely why I shall use it at every opportunity.” Clara beamed at him, and he had to give a short laugh.
“How’re you holding up?”
“Well,-”
Prince Thomas blocked out his sister’s voice for a moment. The man who had been announcing the guests said a name the prince had never heard before. “Miss Ella?” Odd title. Most of the women here were nobles, going by “Lady” or “Countess.” Simply “Miss” implied no status. However....
The prince turned towards the door and… there she was. A gorgeous young woman, the picture of grace as she crossed the threshold and descended the stairs. Her light blue gown billowed around her, and the crowded people attempted to give her a wide berth so as not to trample on her skirts. Her blonde hair seemed to glow in the light. The present nobility whispered to each other behind hands, as if doing such a thing could possibly conceal their words.
“Who is she?”
“Where did she come from?”
“Perhaps she’s a foreign princess.”
“She certainly looks like a princess.”
“Do you think she’s here for the prince?”
“Well, of course she is! Why else would she be here?”
“Miss Ella” began to walk towards the pedestal at the back of the large room, where the royal family seemed to scrutinize her.
“Who is she… Do you know her?” The king whispered, giving his son a quizzical glance.
“I’ve never seen her before.” Thomas breathed his response, unable to look away from the beautiful woman on the ballroom floor. He turned to his right to ask Clara if she knew the maiden, perhaps from court, but she’d disappeared. Confused, the prince turned back towards the floor to see his sister embracing the mysterious girl as if they were old friends. Clara seemed to give a slightly exaggerated bow, making the other girl giggle and give a not-quite-as-exaggerated curtsy.
“Father-” The prince stopped himself.
The girls stood up straight and their eyes met. Slowly, they joined hands and began to slowly waltz around the room, eyes never leaving each other’s. Things suddenly seemed quite intimate, and the prince looked away. It almost felt like he’d seen something he shouldn’t have; a private moment.
“What is it, son?”
“Mn…? Nothing.”
Well. He may not find a bride at the ball, but his sister certainly might.