Work Text:
They had been dancing with each other all night. Ella had no idea how long, and he didn't care. The feeling of the dancers around them, the loud laughter echoing around the room and the prince's hand around his waist made everything else unimportant. The large crowd made them almost disappear as they twirled apart before coming back together again.
Ella hadn't known what to expect when he came to the ball tonight. All he wanted was to see the man from the clearing again. He had no plans or intentions, and yet here he was. Dancing with the prince. The prince was the man he met and joked and laughed with. The first person to show genuine care for him in years. To be approached by him immediately after arriving, with complete confidence, was a blessing he never would have thought to wish for.
After the official first dance, the prince had little time before he was pulled away by people who required his attention. Ella was still floating in happiness and simply moved aside as couples flooded the dance floor. He didn't expect to see the prince again, but he returned. He found Ella at the banquet eating his seventh chocolate strawberry.
"Would you dance with me again, my lady?"
Ella chewed faster, trying to swallow before he answered.
"Do you not have other matters to attend to, more important than me?"
"More important, no. But I did escape a group of council members who wished to bore me with more questions, so we must hurry to the dance floor if you are willing."
Ella put his plate down and took the prince's outstretched hand, "well then, we must hurry."
They smiled at each other before Ella was pulled towards the other dancers. They danced every moment the prince could for the rest of the night. Occasionally another group of people would approach him and steal him away, but he would always return to Ella. They rarely spoke, just enjoyed the room's carefree atmosphere and the closeness some of the dances brought them.
Ella was in this blissful haze until the music stopped, and one of the royal staff requested people's attention, "it is soon to be midnight and the ball will therefore…," but he didn't hear the rest. Instead, he listened to the church bells ringing in the background. The message he was given earlier tonight rang through his head "at the stroke of midnight, the magic will fade…." He was unsure how many chimes there had already been, so he simply tuned into the crowd and pushed through them. He vaguely realised the prince was reaching for him but he moved fast enough to avoid being stopped.
He continued pushing as the church bell kept chiming, taunting him to move faster. As he was free from most of the crowd, he reached down to take off the unsteady glass heels and ran towards the nearest exit into another area of the castle. He felt his hair return to its original state of chaos and hoped he would be hidden from view before the rest of the magic faded. Just as he threw himself through the opening and around the corner into the adjoining hallway, his dress disappeared and changed back into his ripped and stained trousers and shirt.
He kept running towards a closed door near him, not stopping to breathe, until he opened it and stepped through. He turned to close the door when he saw someone right behind him. The prince. He didn't hesitate to step into the room and lock the door to ensure no guards would follow them.
They were both silent, neither knowing what to say. They heard the commotion in the ballroom and Ella assumed everyone was leaving the castle and returning home. The guards were probably standing outside the room, making sure no one came this way. Ella realised he was still holding his shoes. They hadn't returned to their original state. They were still reflecting the light of the chandelier above them.
Eventually, the prince was the one to speak first.
"What's your name?"
He was afraid to answer. He didn't want the prince to know who he was. A useless boy treated like no more than a servant, made to wear dresses by his stepmother who refused to buy him any clothes of his own. This meant he wore the dresses his stepsisters no longer wanted. The only men's clothes he owned were from his father, the old and now ruined formal wear he planned to wear to the ball tonight.
"It's Ella, but my family call me Cinderella."
Instead of looking Angry, shocked or confused, the prince's features stayed neutral. Non-judgemental and emotionless. It made Ella feel both safe and scared at once.
"Why?"
"It's a long story," he answered simply. No one had called him Ella since the other servants left, which was over a year ago.
"What do you prefer to be called?"
The question surprised Ella even more. "I prefer Ella," he replied after a confused pause. His mother called him that when he was younger and it felt right. His birth name was different, a more appropriate name for a boy, but it had never felt entirely right. He told his mother once that he didn't always like being called that, so they came up with a new name. A better name.
"Are you okay, Ella?"
Why would the prince even ask? What could he get by asking? Was it a way to gain his trust? If it was, what did he want? Ella couldn't think of anything he could offer. He didn't answer and as the silence stretched, the prince sighed, rubbing his hands over his face.
"Ella, I understand that you are scared and confused but I can't help if I don't know how."
It was Ella's turn to ask, "Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why do you want to help? I lied to you. You have no reason to care about me nor what happens to me the moment I leave. Why are you asking all these questions when the answers don't benefit you?"
Ella wasn't usually this direct, he always considered every outcome and every possible response before speaking, but he was tired. He didn't want to have to think or hide behind carefully crafted questions. He just wanted the answers the easy way.
"Ella, we just spent an entire evening together. One of the best evenings I have had in a long time. For the first time in months, I could stop overthinking and just enjoy myself. I am not ready to throw all that away. Ever since I met you in that field, I could not stop thinking about you. That you lied about your sex or your status does not matter to me, not compared to the reasons you felt you had to do so in the first place."
The response made him angry. How could the prince not understand? He must know what the villages said about people like him. Men who wore dresses and preferred them. Men who didn't enjoy the company of a woman as much as they should. Was this all simply a joke to him?
"Of course, I had to lie!" he said, raising his voice slightly. "After meeting you, all I wanted was to see you again but I was terrified of how you would react. The villagers treat people with my nature like a disease. All I have known since my parent died is hate and pain. I was planning on coming to the ball dressed in my father's old clothes so you could see me as acceptable instead of the filth I really am. The only way I could have ever approached you was through a lie."
Ella wanted to continue telling him about the magic and his surprise to find out he was the prince but he was interrupted.
"You are not filth and no one should ever be so convinced of their own insignificance. The people who have treated you the way you describe don't…" The prince suddenly stopped talking. He stared at Ella with a look overflowing with rage. Ella looked down to see what had made him show such emotion.
The bruises, the ones on his upper arms, were visible through the rip of his shirt. The handprint of his stepmother was almost completely pressed into his skin. The fingerprints almost black and surrounded by blue and purple. He covered them with the remains of his shirt.
"I'm fine, really. It's nothing."
They stood silently for a few seconds before the prince spoke once again.
"Ella, no matter what the people around you say, no one deserves to go through what you are dealing with. You are strong and beautiful and funny and you deserve so much better than whoever it is that is treating you this way."
Ella tried with everything he had not to cry in front of the prince, but he couldn't stop the flood of tears pressing behind his eyes. While the prince spoke, he cried silently, as it was the only way he knew. After a few more long and silent seconds, the prince held out his hand in invitation. Just as he had done many times that very night. Ella took it.