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Far More Comfortable

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Summary: "She would go to the Ball tonight, against their wishes, and these clothes now served as the alternative - she couldn’t use Mother’s gown, so she would go in her Father’s suit." (a "Cinderella" fic with Cinderella/Princess!Charming)

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Movies > Other-SciFi/FantasysmolderFR1555,4140133,02814 Dec 133 Jan 14No

chapter five: the way in which they moved

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Cinderella is owned by Disney.

chapter five:the way in which they moved

Dance after dance, and Cinderella thinks her eyes must have their own dizzying fire by now from all the twirling and the glow of the candelabra's light sparkling off of fine ladies gems. And they laugh so very merrily together, and so often, she has never had such a time, such friendship.

They were very careful choosing the women for her to dance with. All three of them studying the large ballroom for long stretches (not that it was a chore, at all, to dance with Rel and Ava as they searched). And it was always the ones who were sitting by themselves, looking so lonely despite their finery. Because Cinderella thinks - this, yes this, is probably how she would have been, had she dressed in a gown, and come to this place tonight knowing no one.

Just alone and a bit sad, watching everything go by.

And so it makes her happy to see the way their faces light up when she bows low and asks for a dance. Once she is leading their feet through the steps, Cinderella (or Lord Ellis, she supposes) talks to them: asks for their name (and knows she will remember each and every one, this night is already so precious to her), where they hail from (it feels like she is going on a trip around the world – when she says this to one of her partners, they giggle, clutching her lapels) and specific questions about their hobbies (very few actually like the embroidery expected of ladies of their station, and when they see she is looking for a real answer, eyes will brighten. There is one girl who talks animatedly about her leatherworking; very delicate scenes, as intricate as any artist’s drawing. Her parent’s are supportive and she hopes dearly for an apprentice.)

Cinderella tries her hardest to make each and every one of them smile as she spins them around the floor. It feels good that when the music ends, and they part, the women no longer look quite so sad.

Back with Rel and Ava again, she sips gratefully at the glass handed to her. The last dance had been a bit faster and she is happy to cool down for a few moments.

"Oh, ask her next," Ava suggests, pointing over her shoulder (while leaning a bit upon it) and their is something distinctly michievious in her tone.

"Avaliel!" her sister, glared over at her sounding faintly scandalized.

"Doesn't she look sad?" the younger of the two refutes, with a grin, not the least bit repentant.

But although she can tell that there are multiple layers going on in this conversation, Cinderella was high on her merriment, the company, (and perhaps a bit of the wonderful wine the flowed so freely).

"I shall dance with her," she proclaims, setting her glass upon a nearby table and stopping the building argument. "Where is the harm?"

Lady Reliel's face is oddly blank at this question but she doesn't argue. Turning her head then, she tries to see if she can spot the lady Ava was pointing at over her shoulder earlier - and it is easy to see why the young girl picked her out, she certainly does look melancholy.

So, right as the strains to the next song began, the girl that was once a scullery maid walked up to the beautiful woman who was standing near a closed off balcony, gazing off into the night, looking so wistful (and so very sad). Cinderella wondered what caused such an expression upon her delicate face – remembered many a night, staring at the stars, when sorrow had threatened to pull her under – and so it was with a gentle, empathetic, smile that she approached and quietly asked..

“May I have this dance, Miss?”


Princess Charming watched the man approach out of the corner of her eye, the words to send him politely but firmly away upon her lips (such well used things that she could say almost without thinking about it at this point). But, as she observed him, she noticed something seemed different about this fellow. His features were almost strikingly pretty (that was not the uncommon thing, the upper class were a vain lot after all) and there was a gentle wave to his golden hair that made one want to run their hands through it.

The oddity though, was the way in which he walked - there was no swagger to it. She realized that she had come to expect that, a swagger. All of the other Princes and Lords seemed to have it, holding their self-importance to them so closely that it became a very part of the way in which they moved.

“May I have this dance, Miss?” he asked with a gentle tone to his voice, and such a look of understanding upon his face that it left her rather breathless - which was silly, it was just a voice after all, just blue eyes (such a clear deep blue).

But, despite the silliness, she still wished to get him to talk agian, to keep looking at her like that. Her plans, that had been holding strong throughout the night, to brush aside any who approached her, crumbled and broke down at the single question. She had always been one to trust her instincts though, and did so now, her gloved hand sliding into the one outstretched to her (it intrigued her that it did not do so altogether smoothly, that his hand had was not soft as most nobility's were. It was callused - which spoke of work of some sort).

But those thoughts scattered when she finally registered what he had called her: "Miss". And it actually made her hold her breath for a moment wondering wildly if it was possible that he didn’t know who she was. But how could that be? This ball was in her honour after all.

But perhaps that was persumptious of her – invitations had been flung far and wide and not all would know her simply on site.

"May I have the honour of your name lady?" he asked calmly, their hands held together between them. And didn't that answer her question rather cleanly?

"It-it's Nolana," she blurted awkwardly, giving him her first name, that only her parents truly called her. Still rather thrown that he did not know that the person right in front of him at this moment was the Princess of these lands

"Nolana," he repeated, as if savoring it within his own mind, keeping it locked in his memory. "I like that name, it suits you." And she felt oddly pleased by the remark, because she had always thought so to - had always been perturbed that she was to be Princess Charming, out of respect.

"Perhaps," her eyes moved across the crowds of nobles who would continually stare and track her every movement, before darting back to the man who still patiently only held her hand next to the windows she had been gazing out of. "Perhaps, we can dance in the gardens?" she attempted to use all of her finishing school training to smile winningly(they had never been altogether happy with her at that school).

"Of course, Nolana," he grinned down at her. "But I'm afraid you are going to have to lead the way - I do not know my way around this large place."

"Well," she giggled, moving to his side and looping and arm around a blue-coated one, feeling infinitely more comfortable than she had all night, "don't worry about that - I know this castle like the back of my hand."

The End?

You have reached the end of "Far More Comfortable" – so far. This story is incomplete and the last chapter was posted on 3 Jan 14.

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