A Royal Friendship: Cinderella and Ellen

A heavy fog hung over the palace grounds as the first rays of light touched the horizon. The sun slowly pressed its way through the white haze, slowly burning away the mist and giving a thin red glow to everything it touched. It was an early morning ritual that Princess Cinderella had been observing for her entire life. Her father said it was because they had a special bond. He’d say he could see it in their eyes. She used to believe him.

The Princess was sitting in the gardens with her back against the trunk of a cherry tree. Her skin was pale, her eyes dark and void, staring out at the meadow across the courtyard where a lone deer stood grazing among the flowers. The animal was beautiful, graceful, and peaceful. Its eyes were clear, its brow smooth, and its antlers large. Its body was thin and muscular, and it seemed to glide over the grass, never touching it.

Cinderella thought about how she’d never be able to run free anymore. How she would never be able to go racing through the woods with the deer, leaping over rocks and logs, breathing fresh air and wildflowers into her lungs, chasing the sun until she collapsed from exhaustion in the tall grass. She’d spent most of her youth running along the riverbank, weaving through the trees, watching the sun set, then rise, and seeing the world turn as she slept, spread out on a bed of soft green leaves.

She took a deep breath, held it in until it burned, then let it out slowly. It was all behind her now. Her father had declared that she would be attending court in a month and that her lessons should begin tomorrow. In a few years she would be forced to marry someone, regardless of the cost, and she would never again know the freedom of the forest. She’d never run with the deer again.

Slowly, she turned her head to look over her shoulder at the castle entrance. A guard was standing there, looking bored, his arms crossed over his chest, a spear leaning against the wall beside him. It was the same guard who had been at the castle since she was a child. She thought his name was Reginald. Whenever she went to the castle he would always bow politely, then walk ahead of her until they reached her father’s chambers. He’d stand outside the door while she entered, then he would bow again, she’d give him a slight smile, then he’d leave.

Even though they’d never talked, she’d always found it amusing how much he looked like a soldier. His hair was cut short, his uniform was always perfectly pressed and clean, and he seemed to always be standing at attention. She liked to think that he enjoyed his job, but couldn’t help being anxious. Cinderella got the feeling that he didn’t want to be there, that he was just doing his duty, as a soldier.

Cinderella had never seen the inside of her father’s chambers. She’d never even been inside the castle. She’d only ever been allowed to enter the courtyard and gardens. In fact, she’d never even seen the throne room. She wondered what it looked like. Was it big? Was it small? Was it dark? Was it light? Did her father sit in it when he wasn’t around? Was it covered in dust? Had it been used recently?

She took another deep breath and sighed. Her father hadn’t been around for a long time. At least five years. She didn’t know where he was, only that he was on a mission. He was going to bring peace to the land, end all wars everywhere, and unite their people. She’d overheard her father’s generals talking one day, unaware that she was listening. They’d said it was an impossible task, but that her father was the man for the job. He was strong, smart, and very cunning.

Cinderella heard her mother’s voice echo in her head, telling her that she needed to be brave. That she needed to do what was right for her kingdom. She remembered her mother’s eyes, full of love, but also sadness and worry. She was a great queen, and a wonderful woman. She’d ruled with strength and dignity, and the people loved her.

Cinderella blinked the tears away and wiped them with the sleeve of her gown. Her mother had told her that she’d have a job to do, once she was Queen. That she’d have a responsibility to the kingdom and, more importantly, to the people. She’d said that she was a good woman and that she was strong. Stronger than any princess.

Cinderella closed her eyes and laid her head back against the trunk of the tree. She didn’t remember when she fell asleep, but when she woke up the sun was high and the garden was bright. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and stood. She brushed the grass from her dress, then walked to the edge of the garden where the flowers gave way to grass and orchids grew in abundance. She stopped at the edge and stared out at the meadow. Her hands were shaking, and her heart was racing. She took a deep breath, held it in, then let it out slowly.

She took another deep breath and smiled. She turned and walked to the edge of the orchids, then stepped over them and out onto the flat plains. There was a soft breeze blowing in from the west and she stood still, watching the sun slowly sink behind the clouds. The deer was still there, grazing, its head down and eyes closed.

Cinderella took her first step, then another, and another. She walked slowly, carefully, not wanting to startle the deer. Her heart was pounding and she felt light-headed. She stopped just beyond the flowers and stood still, watching the deer. The wind picked up and she felt the hem of her dress brush against her legs. She took another deep breath and stood motionless.

The deer lifted its head and looked directly at her. Its eyes were clear, its brow smooth, and its antlers large. Its body was thin and muscular, and it seemed to glide over the grass, never touching it.