Once Upon a Time
After watching Everafter, I was hit with inspiration. This is what came of it.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything, everything belongs to their respective owners. I am making no money, and am doing this for pleasure.
Once upon a time in a world far different from our own, the goddess blessed all with the right to bring life. They grew and created kingdoms, and royalty. All while giving the goddess thanks for the blessings she bestowed upon them. Our story takes place in the Kingdom of Paxus, a place of beauty and known as the place to find love. Here it began.
A carriage pulled up to a large castle, the gleaming turrets shining in the midday sun, and the heat beat down on the black wood bringing the interior up. When the carriage pulled to a stop and a servant opened the door, two men stepped out. They were tall, and handsome both stood proudly as they were lead into the towering fortress and up stairs. The halls were decorated with tapestries and small torches which lit up what the large windows did not. They were brought to a large set of doors where they both stood as they were announced.
“The Brothers Grimm, my lady.” Said a servant as the two men walked through the doors. They entered and on a day bed lay an older woman, who smiled gently at them, waving them to sit down. Her graying hair was pulled up from her face, while her eyes shone brightly with the wisdom of her advanced years.
“Good day, gentlemen. Thank you so much for coming. I suppose you're wondering why anyone my age would request an audience...with the authors of children's stories.” She spoke sitting up in the bed and waving away a servant who moved forward to help her. She looked between them with an even stare.
The younger of the two, who shifted forward in his seat and crossed his legs, spoke. “Your letter was most intriguing, madam.” In truth, when they had received the letter they were overcome with curiosity. It was not often someone of noble blood called upon the writers of children's stories.
The elderly woman nodded in understanding. “I find your collection of folk tales quite brilliant actually.” She motioned over to her table where their stories sat open, as if she had been reading just before they entered.
“Thank you.” said the elder, quite bored with the proceedings.
“But I must say I was terribly disturbed...” Spoke the woman as she leaned forward slightly, taking in the uninterested look of the older brother. She understood the boredom, for what could an elderly woman have to say to him. “;when I read your version of The Little Cinder Boy” She folded her hands and looked expectantly at the men.
The older brother moved forward on his chair and gave a cold laugh. “There are those who swear Perrault's telling with its fairy godmother and magic pumpkins...” he laughed again. “;would be closer to the truth.”
The younger shot his brother a look and smiled nicely. “Some claim the shoe was made of fur. Others insist it was glass. Well, I guess we'll never know” He sat back watching as the woman raised a brow.
The older, who had began to look about the room, spoke. “Forgive me, Your Majesty. Might I inquire about the painting? He's really quite er...extraordinary.” The man was staring at the painting of a young man, who looked down as if shy too meet the eyes of the viewer.
“His name as Alexander De Barbarac.” The woman said nodding happily to the painting with what was akin to adoration. Then with another graceful movement she called a servant forward. “And this was his glass slipper.” She said pulling a glass slipper out of a gilded box.
The older brother turned to stare at the woman in awe. At first they looked amused, thinking that the woman was playing a joke. But as she nodded and a slow smile pulled at her thin lips, they stared at the shoe.
The woman leaned forward and smiled wider. “Perhaps you will allow me to set the record straight?” her eyes twinkled, as both seemed to attempt to grasp words.
“So the story, it is true then?” Gaped the younger brother, who was now sitting on the edge of his chair.
“Yes, quite.” She stared at the older brother who seemed to have gone a little red, but did not say anything. “Now, then. What is that phrase you use?” the woman looked up in thought, still cradling the glass slipper. “Oh, yes. Once upon a time...there lived a young boy, who loved his father very much.”