His Side (standard:fairy tales, 3504 words)
Author: Eponine	Added: May 27 2001	Views/Reads: 4960/3165	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Cinderella, told by Prince Charming's point of view.

I would like to take the opprotunity to ask all readers to at least
vote, if not write to the authors about, the stories they read.  I 
speak for everyone when I say we really appreciate your responses.  
Also, I want to say that I would really like to respond to you guys who 
do reply, and ask that you leave your e-mail addresses.  Of course you 
don't HAVE to, but it would be nice.  Thanks!  ~'Ponine 

His Side 

Every day my father asks me to choose a wife.  Not that I want to
disobey him or anything, but I think the "prince must be married by 
twenty-one" tradition is a little harsh.  Here I am, twenty years old, 
and have to make the most important decision of my life, thus far.  I 
think not.  Of course, my other options were not so pretty, either: 
have an arranged marriage, or forfeit the crown. 

The latter choice I did not mind so much, except that as the only heir
to the throne, my father would have my head if I did not accept it.  
So, I pretended to be interested in pretty girl after pretty girl, more 
to my father's annoyance than any other reason.  That is, until he 
approached me one day.  "Your Highness," I said, somewhat exasperated.  
"Son, you are nearing your twenty-first year."  (As if I weren't aware 
of this already?)  "Yes, your point being..."  "My point being, I will 
give you three days from tonight to decide who you shall wed, or I will 
choose your bride for you." 

He was serious.  And even though this was deciding MY fate, I knew
better than to argue with him; his temper was a very delicate matter.  
"Yes, Father," I replied.  He turned to leave, walked a few paces, and 
then turned back.  "Oh, one more thing.  These three nights we are 
holding balls here at the palace.  I have made sure that every young 
maiden will be present."  I groaned inwardly.  There was NO escape. 

That night found me dressed in my best clothing.  Or, some of my best
clothing.  Many young women arrived, and while there were a few pretty 
ones, none struck my fancy.  I could feel my father drilling holes into 
me.  I obliged him enough to dance with a few girls, but that was all.  
Each partner I had chosen was more interested in becoming a princess 
than anything else.  There were two who were exceptionally bad, 
sisters, I think.  I was beginning to think that I was doomed to an 
arranged marriage when SHE arrived. 

She seemed to be some sort of foreign princess, though she spoke in an
unfaltering tongue.  Not only was she beautiful beyond compare, but she 
was sweet and kind and intelligent.  She was dressed in an emerald 
green gown, brocaded with silver and gold threads.  She wore emeralds 
and diamonds at her throat, which complimented the gown perfectly.  Her 
hands were decorated with more gems and gold, and her golden-brown hair 
was expertly pinned up with jade combs.  When her dainty feet poked out 
from the skirts, I thought the slippers were glass.  But perhaps my 
eyes were tricking me.  As she approached, I could see that the silken 
gown was also beaded with fine emerald.  I was enchanted. 

At supper, I was somewhat disappointed that she spoke with the sisters
whom I had come to dislike.  But afterward we danced for an hour or so, 
though it felt like a moment.  And there was one time, when we were 
utterly alone in the royal gardens, that she spoke: “What is your 
name?”  I was shocked.  “You mean you do not know who I am?”  She 
smiled weakly.  “I’m afraid not...should I?”  I did not laugh out loud, 
but the situation was rather humorous.  After all, the only reason why 
any young woman (and some not so young) would have come to this royal 
ball, of course, was because they thought they had the chance to 
wed...me.  “My dear, I am Prince Christoph, more commonly known as the 
Prince Charming.”  She flushed a bright scarlet hue.  “Your Highness, 
please, forgive me-“  “Hush.  I do not mind, nor do you ever need to 
ask for my forgiveness.  And you need not address me as ‘Your Highness’ 
either.” 

She smiled again at last.  “If you insist, Monsieur Charming.” This she
said in a more teasing manner, and I knew that the world was right 
again.  We looked into each other’s eyes for a long time.  I could have 
gotten lost in her soul, but I never would have wanted, or needed to be 
found again.  As I was about to ask her name, for I realized I still 
did not know it, she proclaimed that she had to leave.  “Please, I – I 
was told to be home by midnight, I really must leave.”  My intentions 


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