The Other Glass Slipper

When Cindy married the Prince, no one had warned her about the other lovers.

Oh, everyone had reassured her that she was special; that the Prince would never look at another woman—or man, or otherwise—again; that they would live happily ever after.

Clearly, she thought, they had ended the story too early.

A cadre of gold-robed advisors tittered and stared as they passed her. Everyone had heard of Charming's daily dalliances.

Cindy, however, was an expert in humiliation. Even as it simmered deep inside her gut, no blush swept her cheek, no furrow marred her brow, and soon, the jeering died. These petty courtiers had nothing on her stepfamily, Cindy had realized long ago.

It didn't hurt that, despite having been royalty for only six months, Cindy look like a Princess ought to. Fine boned, graceful, elegant, with eyes blue in the sky. Her gown shimmered deep indigo and jewels adorned her throat and ears and amber hair.

“You simply must wear these, my dear,” the Queen had said, when she first presented them to Cindy. “They said you so much better than they do me.”

A kinder mother-in-law Cindy couldn't have imagined. That was the only reason she didn't rip the brooch and earrings and combs from her body right now. Instead, gritting her teeth, she planted herself outside the door.

“Um…Princess?” ventured the young, freckled guard on the right. “Would you like us to escort you to your chambers?”

“That's quite alright," she said, "I intend to wait right here.”

Cindy was not going to be ignored any longer.

* * *

It was not until nearly an hour later that the door unbolted, and Charming's tall, dark figure appeared in the doorway. He was laughing looking in the room, wearing only a red silk robe. “Now, ladies, you should be on your way before –"

He froze, noticing Cindy standing not three feet from the door.

Cindy raised an eyebrow. “Before what, dear?”

He gulped. “I—oh—um. Wife,” he said weakly. Dealing with surprises was not Charming's forte—that was how he let her slip passed in at the ball despite the fact that she'd been wearing a ridiculous ballgown, not to mention freaking glass slippers.

“Who are your guests?” she asked.

“Just leaving,” he mumbled.

“Funny,” said Cindy, “I don't remember anyone named ‘Leaving’ in our employment.”

Charming glared at the guards that Cindy snapped her fingers in front of his face. “It's no fault of theirs. Hurry and let the poor girls leave, before anyone uses them for court rumor fodder.”

A redhead and two brunettes slipped out of the room, shooting her nervous glances as they hurried away.

“There was no need to frighten them.” Charming glowered.

“The glow will wear off in five minutes,” Cindy replied. “They'll be grateful, then.” Cindy stepped around him and into his chambers . Reluctantly, Charming let her in, slamming the door behind her.

The air reeked. Cindy breathed through her mouth; a useful skill she had picked up while trying to avoid the dizzying scent of antiseptic in her stepfamily's house. She had never thought that her senses would be so assaulted in the palace.

“Why are you here, Cinder—” began Charming.

“Cindy,” corrected Cindy quickly. She hated her full name.

Charming folded his arms, smirking. He hadn't changed a bit in the six months they had been married. That athletic figure, that lean face, those bright green eyes that sparkled and wooed. Once, he'd wooed her, too; but that was old news.

Cindy didn't see a point in beating about the bush.

“I want a divorce,” she said.

Charming began laughing but stopped when he noticed Cindy’s stony expression. “Are you serious? We can’t divorce. We’re royalty; that means it's not until death-do-you-part—it's until the tapestry-of-the-family-tree-rots do you part.”

“And sure I'll find a way to make that happen,” Cindy said dryly.

“You won’t!” he retorted. “It's not done!”

“Actually, the lawyers say it's possible.”

Charming stared at her. “Cinder—”

“Cindy,” she corrected.

He rolled his eyes. “Look, you're just being overemotional. The peasants love you and you get to live like royalty. Why would you give that up?”

“I'm not giving anything up,” she said. “I'm taking my freedom back.”

Charming's brow furrowed. “Grimm,” he said. “You're serious about this.”

“Deadly,” Cindy confirmed.

To his credit, Charming didn't ask her why she wanted to divorce. Instead, he sighed.

Then he threw her in the dungeons.

* * *

“What a prick!” explained Fairy Godmother when Cindy told her what had transpired.

“I know,” Cindy agreed. “But at least he forgot I had you.”

Fairy Godmother sniffed. “My lease to you isn't over for another half year, the fool. Shouldn’t he have read the contract instead of lazing about?”

They chatted in one of the darkest, dankest cells of the dungeons. Or so it had been, until Cindy summoned Fairy Godmother and requested a little redecorating. She had procured a massive feather bed, a plush woven rug, pumpkin-scented candles, a bookshelf stuffed with fairy tales, and a crystal bowl of little whiskey chocolates. To fit all this, Fairy Godmother had added about two hundred square feet of space. Cindy’s favorite part was the newly-installed restroom. Ah, indoor plumbing.

“But Cindy,” said Fairy Godmother, do you really want to leave?”

“You seem Charming!” Cindy exclaimed. “How can I possibly stay!”

“And yet,” Fairy Godmother said, “wasn't he sweet in the beginning?”

Cindy scowled. Fairy Godmother was right; Charming had been all right at the beginning. Their courtship had been a whirlwind of lust and romance.

Then, they've gotten married, and things had just…stopped working. Charming liked throwing parties and socializing with his rich friends. He dragged her along to functions, and when she asked him if he'd rather stay in once in a while, he'd grow sulky and make her feel guilty. It had taken her a long time to notice the subtle ways in which he manipulated her. He was old hat at romance, while Cindy had been swept off her feet with by the first man who saw her as half a person. Granted, that man had been a Prince, and few people could have withstood his persistence—but it still made her feel foolish and stupid.

It wasn't that Charming was a bad person, necessarily; he just wasn't the man she thought she had married. He had presented the facade that would appeal to someone like Cindy, a naïve girl looking for love, and she had fallen for it.

Her father would have been so dismayed.

“I can't stay, Fairy Godmother,” Cindy replied, shaking her head. “The disappointment hurts too much.”

“Don’t you want to be Queen?”

Cindy shook her head. “You know me better than that. I never married Charming for the Crown.”

“And yet, doesn’t it seem like fate that you have it now?” Fairy Godmother pointed out.

The arch tone of Fairy Godmother’s question suddenly made Cindy realize something. Something dreadful. “Pumpkins and carriages. You knew he was like this when you encouraged me to go to that ball. You knew he'd want to marry me . You sent me to—to seduce the Crown!”

Fairy Godmother shrugged, looking not at all remorseful like a human light; Of course, she wasn't human. “I knew he had a weakness for blondes,” she said, finally not answering a question with a question.

Cindy snorted. “He just had an orgy with a redhead and two brunettes.”

Fairy Godmother twirled her wand. “Correction: I knew he had a weakness for blondes that month.”

“Great Grimm,” Cindy moaned, dropping her head in her hands. “My life is a lie.”

“Everyone's life is a lie, poppet. Some people just realize it later than others.”

Cindy put her head in her hands. “I really shouldn't be here.”

“Why ever not?” Fairy Godmother asked, cocking her head. It seemed she'd returned to asking only questions.

“The only reason I'm here is because of hormones!” Cindy bellowed.

“Poppet, you do realize that statement applies to every single human on the planet?” Fairy Godmother asked, amused.

Cindy began hyperventilating. “My stepfamily was right all along. I should go back to sweeping coals.”

“You would abandon your people?”

Cindy slumped on her bed. “They’ll do fine without me.”

Fairy Godmother frowned, the expression looking strange on her lovely pixie face. “You really believe that? Why do you think your father went bankrupt?”

“His partners cheated him,” answered Cindy, bristling.

“And did you know his partner’s families were starving? What do you think your father would have wanted?”

“Not to die!” Cindy yelled. She was trembling with anger. “Don’t bring him up!”

But Fairy Godmother was relentless. “Do you not see what's happening around you, Cindy? That while the King throws balls for all the maidens in the land and the Prince cavorts around looking for glass slippers, that the city is rotting? Do you see the immigrants being persecuted, the sickness running rampant, the cutthroats stalking the good peoples’ homes?”

“The King and Queen are good rulers,” Cindy defended.

“They may be,” Fairy Godmother conceded, “but what happens when the King and Queen are gone? Do you think Charming can rule well alone?”

Cindy winced at the thought. “He can remarry.”

“What guarantees whomever he remarries will make a better ruler than you?”

“You think I’d make a good Queen?” asked Cindy, surprised.

Fairy Godmother smiled, her silver eyes sparkling. “You think I would have sent you to the Crown if I didn’t believe in you?”

“These problems are too big for me,” protested Cindy. “What am I to do about it?”

“How do you solve big problems, poppet?”

“I don't know,” Cindy grumbled. “Throw a Fairy Godmother at it.”

“How about an easier question first?” Fairy Godmother smiled. “How did you get your own gown for the ball? Not the one I gave you; the one before that. ”

Cindy furrowed her brow. “I made it myself, of course.”

“Did you have any fabric?”

“Well, no, but—”

“Any ribbons or lace or silk?”

“No, those I—”

“Any thread or needles of your own? Paper or ink to record your measurements?”

“Of course I didn't,” Cindy interjected with exasperation. “I had to find it all myself! It's not like my stepfamily would have given me a lick of help to make that dress.”

Fairy Godmother began to fade at the edges. “And what was the first thing you did in order to make it?”

Cindy blinked at the question. “Well, first I had to find the fabric…”

“Did you do anything before that?”

Cindy thought. “I suppose I had to clear out a space in the attic to work.”

“And for that?” Fairy Godmother pressed.

Cindy threw up her hands angrily, but then stopped before the first word left her mouth. A faint tingle ran up her spine; one that had nothing to do with Fairy Godmother’s magic but came from within her.

“I suppose,” Cindy said slowly, “I had to decide do it.”

Fairy Godmother smiled as she dissolved into glittering dust, before that too melted into the darkness.

“Wait!” Cindy leapt to her feet. “What if I still want to leave?”

Fairy Godmother’s tinkling voice echoed in the cell. “Whatever your decision, I will support you, poppet. Let me know when you make up your mind…”

Soon, Cindy was left alone inside a cold, dark cell, the only sign of Fairy Godmother’s presence the faint scent of pumpkin spice lingering in the air.

* * *

The conversation with Fairy Godmother filled her mind as Cindy sat alone in the bare cell. Fairy Godmother had deceived her, without a doubt, which still angered Cindy. not because of Fairy Godmother’s goals to install her on the throne, but because, like her stepfamily, Fairy Godmother had made Cindy question her own worth by hiding her deception. Cindy was not a plaything or a pawn to be tossed here or placed there. It had taken her so long to realize that, and longer still to accept it.

Cindy thought she had come to terms with it when she became a Princess, but she realized that wealth and power had only insulated her from her innate sense of worthlessness. It was not gone; no, simply buried. Cindy removed her brooch and her earrings and. Her combs, putting them off to one side. She unpinned her hair and let it fall loose down her back. With the cold washbasin she rinsed the powder and tints from her face.

Cindy sat and breathed easy for the first time in…well, forever.

Cindy thought about Fairy Godmother’s questions. About the Crown, the dress, but most of all, her father. Her kind father who had never once complained about their poverty or about his dishonest business partners and read her tales of magic and monsters every night before he got too sick.

Cindy closed her eyes and made a decision. She hoped, somewhere, that her father approved.

But before she made her second move, she wanted to ask Fairy Godmother for a favor; after all, delivering impossible dresses was her specialty…

* * *

 The next week, Cindy was released from the dungeons after promising there would be no more mention of divorce. The kingdom simply couldn’t handle such news right now. Charming was relieved. In honor of her recovery from her “illness”—the official story of her absence—the palace threw, of course, a ball.

Except, not quite.

Charming gaped at the stateroom which had been transformed into what looked like a counting house. Tables filled the vast space in neat rows, and between them streamed dozens of scribes and accountants. Peasants in worn, patched brown homespun flooded the space, along with some merchants and the occasional minor noble. No one looked dressed for a formal dinner, let alone for a ball.

“Husband!” Cindy waved him over.

“Cinderella,” Charming sputtered he reached his wife, “what on earth are you wearing?”

His wife wore the most peculiar gown he had ever seen. It was an odd burnt-orange the shade of dirty squash and patched together in so many places it resembled more scrap than fabric. It hung oddly on her as though the dress was sewed by a clumsy hand in dim lighting which —unbeknownst to him—it had been.

“Cindy,” she corrected, “and I made this dress myself, once upon a time.” She waved a hand at the menagerie. “Do you like the setup?”

“What is going on?” asked Charming, eyeing a goatherd, complete with a swarm of goats, with no little alarm. He'd never seen goats so close-up before. Cindy seemed perfectly at ease.

“We are recording the grievances of all the citizens who wish to claim one,” she answered. “I realize the tradition is to hear them one by one, but I thought we could get a head start by recording them and having us read the details beforehand.”

“You—you can’t do that,” sputtered Charming. “What about the ball?” He alone was dressed in lavish, princely finery, drawing no few amused glances. Charming flushed.

“There is no ball,” Cindy breezed. “This is the celebration. Oh, and I’ve sold my other glass slipper to some winter Queen in the north. She thinks it might be enchanted ice, and she is very excited to study it.”

Charming went pale. “That was a national treasure!”

“Our people are the treasure,” corrected Cindy. “All funds will go to homeless shelters and helping small businesses stay afloat.”

Suddenly, the King appeared next to him, his brown eyes alight with more energy than Charming had seen in years. “Isn’t this brilliant, son? Your wife is a master organizer; never seen someone so efficient in all my life.”

“Try managing two debutantes,” Cindy told him, smiling. “This is nothing compared to my stepsisters’ schedules.”

“This is—this is madness!” Charming exclaimed.

“No need to shout, Charming, dear,” said the Queen, appearing from behind a huge stack of crates. Her hair was mussed, her cheeks flushed, and she was wearing a plain brown dress and working boots. “Goodness knows it’s loud enough here without it.”

“Mother! What is going on here?”

“It has come to our attention,” said the Queen, “that our kingdom has become somewhat of a mess. We are taking measures to fix it.”

Charming tried to remain calm. “Come, now, wife," he said with a condescending smile. "This isn’t something you can just fix with the wave of a wand. These things take time.”

“I know they do,” said Cindy, her fierce blue eyes piercing him.

And for all her shabby dress and small stature, Charming felt a wave of unease. Somehow, without his noticing it, the damsel had become a dragon.

“Happily ever after is a big dress to sew, and it’s going to take all of us working together to do it,” Cindy told him. If one looked closely, they might see the seams of her patchwork dress glow as if lit from within.

“And how do we do that?” Charming asked, wary.

Cindy’s smile was sharp and dangerous. “Why, husband,” she purred. “Just like anything else, of course: stitch by stitch by stitch.”

Charming paled. He hadn’t signed up for this.

And, without further ado, Cindy put Charming to work.