Captain Pike's Ship Log II

This is the classic Cinderella tale, only from Prince Charming's perspective.

I see my slender wife's strong, delicate figure slip silently into the moonlit pool, the sparkling multitude of reflected disruption offers a unique and personal fragment to every star in the sky and every tree in the forest. This reminds me of the theme of fairness and sharing so totally foreign to me, which now is the charter of our relationship. It is thus that I must now attempt to recount the tale of my wife.
The day began in a typical manner, my chambermaid urged me to rise as it was again nearly noon. As I lie, heavy with sleep, among my many satin pillows, I began to think of the multitude of luxuries in which I might indulge: my new stallion, some fine wine and tobacco, a new and quite amusing jester. It always seems that another quarter of an hour of sleep is just what is needed -- just one more dream, and then I might actually feel like getting up. However, I know that, of late, the result of that experiment has been the waste of the day in bed. Perhaps I have an illness -- a sleeping sickness, it seems as though when I was a child, I had more energy. My mother enters the room, "Charles B. Charming, you get out of bed this instant!” There, now there is the energy I was needing. As I sat on my bed and accepted a warm, wetted cloth from the chambermaid for my face, she began. "Your father is hosting a Ball for all the upper commoners; you really must be up and about, to be seen. You have riding and archery lessons to attend. Come now, be fit and lively."
I don't argue with my mother. Not only is she Queen but she is correct. These Balls though, they're such a bore. Always the same old stuffy people with their propped up platitudes. My dressers were patiently waiting; I wonder what these people really think of us. They are not a bad lot, often; their servile faces are what it takes to get me dressed and ready to face the day.
My archery instructor has actually become almost a gentleman mentor for me. We talk about possible ladies for me to wed. He seems to have an eye for the positive qualities in folks. His matchmaking capabilities thus far have been thwarted by my indifference. There was one girl, a near duchess I believe, that sparked my interest for two or three weeks. She turned out to be more of a lover of horses than princely young men. C'est la vie.
So the Ball was afoot, simply superfluous and primly proper, I was trying to hide my yawns. I may have had two or three glasses of a fine dark ale when a strange thing happened. Our small string ensemble seemed to end their song one instrument at a time, as if they had only been tuning up all along. The clink of cutlery and the idle chit chat slowed to a silence -- it was that odd moment as if the tide were just turned. I broke out of the stare I had fixed on my glass and turned to the obvious point of interest to all. And there, stood the most marvelous and spectacular creature my eyes had ever beheld. A radiant young woman with flowing golden hair and a jeweled gown to match seemed not to stand but to float in thin air upon clear sparkling slippers. I shook my head vigorously, quickly, so as not to be visually removed from such a pleasurable scene for too long, yet doubting a perception possibly dulled by three ales.
I stood, and I too seemed to flow rather than walk toward her. We met and danced to the tune struck up without a word or hesitation. I had not another drink that evening but my intoxication continued. Any social grace I had ever learned, I seem to have forgotten that night. Before the Ball was over she somehow disappeared and I hadn't yet learned her name! After searching every inch of the palace grounds I sat disheveled: she had disappeared as strangely as she had appeared. Standing alone outside, I finally sat and recalled her luxurious skin and a faint ashy yet pleasant scent about her neck as we danced. I could think of nothing else and set upon a meeting with my father. Although he thought it odd to schedule another Ball the very next day I was able to get him to agree to do just that.
I was sure I would never see her again. Nobody that I spoke with seemed to have any idea who she was or where she came from. The next day, as I waited in vain outside for her to arrive I reflected on the evening we spent. Her singular interests were not those of a typical debutante. During a brief tour of the palace, she seemed more interested in our staff than the luxurious accouterments. She spoke at length with a pair of scullery maids. One of them actually had the audacity to ask her about the folding of linens for more efficient storage. She was surprised when I didn’t know the name of the taller of the two maids.
Finally she arrived in the most elegant and ornate of carriages. She alighted somewhat awkwardly and thanked the footman, having apparently been engaged in some conversation with him. It was thus that I remained off balance for the remainder of the evening. Things were going well, she clearly had an interest in me, but again, I felt bereft of my usual charms. The only thing I seemed well able to do was dance with her. I was surely making good headway engaging her interests until nearly midnight when I must have committed some terrible faux pas. For the life of me, I could not ascertain the source of her disdain but suddenly she bolted like a colt in a forest fire. I ran through the crowd thwarting entreaties for my attention. Dodging guests as best I could I finally made it outside where I found nothing but one of her small glass slippers. It was as if it were all a dream, how could this have happened again? I sat upon the ground and sobbed turning her slipper over and over in my hands -- I still hadn't learned her name.
I retired to my chambers; I had no interest in my guests. Surely a beautiful woman traveling in such a unique carriage would be easily traceable. I remained awake all night recalling the events of the evening. Not only was this woman aggravatingly beautiful but there was an altruism about her that I have never known. Here was the perfect woman, yet I may as well have simply dreamed her up. I selected three of my most trusted servants. I described my dilemma and we decided to conduct a region wide survey to find information about this woman. To our favor was the fact that in my possession was this unique glass slipper. My agents set about a vigorous search at first light. One of my men had the idea that not very many women in our region would fit such a delicate shoe. I tried to rest; being thoroughly exhausted, but attained only a few fretful moments sleep.
I had a sick feeling when my team came back early in the morning -- they had only been gone less than two hours. But to my delight, they had both slippers and the girl that fit into them! It turns out that the object of my love is a common girl living in our community. Apparently, being stepchild of a middle-class family, her charms had been hidden in favor of promoting the two natural daughters. Cinderella's clothing and livery had been provided through some sort of temporary magic that I am now very grateful for. We had a brief courtship during which I have learned everything that means anything to me and we became married.
Where my life had previously been meaningless and full of quandary, I now have a focused mission that I believe is God inspired, perhaps I should say Goddess inspired. Together, we have been able to develop many philanthropic endeavors to the benefit of the subjects of my father's realm. In all these, my wife, Cinderella remains a central volunteer. Through recreational activities we have gotten to know the members of our community. I know the name of every person who is an employee of my father or me. We have an appellate chamber attached to our palace where any person can come to challenge a law or to obtain advice. My father and mother are equally pleased with the transformation that has occurred both to their son and our kingdom.