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Once upon a time there was a child, born to a wealthy merchant and his wife in the kingdom of Faerûn. The happy couple was overjoyed to bring you, their precious child, into the world. However that joy didn’t last long as your mother tragically passed away only minutes after giving birth due to blood loss. This traumatic event destroyed your father, he tried his best to raise you with the love and kindness you deserve but could not let go of the belief that you needed a mother.
One day, around seven years later, he had to leave for a business trip, and he had asked you what he should bring back to you as a souvenir. After giving it a moment’s thought you asked him for the first twig to knock his hat off. With a joyous laugh you hadn’t heard from him in a while he agreed and mounted his carriage, promising to be back before the first leaf, yellowed by autumn, would drop. With that he rode away with his guild.
The next few months you were alone in your manor with the staff, all of whom had taken on a guardian-like role to you, teaching you all sorts of practical skills to keep your mind off the absence of your beloved father.
When one day you finally heard the sound of horses outside the kitchen window you rushed outside. Your father had greeted you with a hug, a kiss on the forehead and a surprise, because he had not only brought you the twig you had asked him for but also a new stepmother and two stepsisters. They were each very beautiful, dressed in the finest fabrics and jewels your father could afford. You had greeted them happily, exited by the prospect of a bigger family. They had greeted you back stiffly, commenting on the smudge of flower that had decorated your cheek. Assuming they must have just been tired after the long trip you had ignored their comment, hoping your relationship would improve over time.
Your hopes would not end up coming to fruition. Your father had always tried to make an effort to make you feel included and part of this new family, but your stepmother and -sisters stayed apprehensive and distant. Even when your father returned from another business trip five years later, having caught an incurable disease. You had helped the servants take care of him to the best of your abilities, whilst your stepfamily attended balls and other frivolous events. On his deathbed your father made you promise to remain the good and kind soul he and your mother would be proud of. He was buried next to your mother in the family cemetery, underneath the oak tree that had sprouted from the twig you had planted with your father all those years ago.
One day when you had come back to the manor from your daily visit to your parents’ tree you were met with the sight of all the staff packing their belongings into carriages. Confused you had asked the cook, whom had become a dear friend to you and was more of a mother to you than your stepmother ever was, what was going on.
“Oh, we’ve all been let go, dear.”
You will never forget the sad look she had given you as she cupped your cheek and explained how your stepmother had gathered everyone up and declared that since the lord and breadwinner of the house had sadly passed away, she can no longer afford to pay them.
Before you could fully process what she was telling you, you heard your name being called. Turning around you saw your stepmother flanked, as always, by her daughters in the opening of the front door, beckoning you towards her. Knowing by now that to avoid a scolding you should listen to her, so with a final knowing look you departed your friend.
“What is it, stepmother?” You noticed she wasn’t dressed in black anymore, instead donning a deep purple dress along with the expensive jewellery you had come to suspect were the reason she married your father.
She looked away from you and down over the staff like they were nothing more than cockroaches to her. “As you can see, I have had to let the staff go. We simply can’t afford them anymore if we want to continue living here.” The girls behind her unsuccessfully tried to hide their giggles. Confused as to what they could possibly find humorous about this situation you looked back to your stepmother.
“In their absence you will be taking over their tasks, as you have already proven yourself to be familiar with housework, unlike myself and my delicate daughters.”
You were stunned by her audacity and could do nothing but force out an “Of course stepmother, I understand.”. You silently watched as the staff, your friends, departed the estate. If only you could join them. You had asked the cook once, but she told you there was no way she could support both you and her own family.
Your melancholy thoughts are interrupted by your stepmother clapping her hands together loudly, turning around into the house. “Well now that that is taken care of, you should hurry and get to the kitchen, it is almost time for dinner!” Quickly she shooed her still giggling daughters inside and left you alone on the steps of the manor.
After managing to pull yourself together, cooking, and serving dinner, you sat down in your usual spot at the dinner table. Your first bite was interrupted by your stepmother clearing her throat to get your attention. You manage to hold back an eye roll and turn to her. “Is something wrong stepmother?” You asked her, assuming she didn’t like what you prepared for them.
“Don’t you think it inappropriate for the cook to dine with the family?” At first you thought she was joking, but her expression had been cold. “Well? Answer me child!”
“Well, I am part of the family, am I not?” You spoke through gritted teeth. “Oh, you were!” One sister spoke. “But now you are the servant!” The other continued. “And servants should know their place isn’t at the dinner table with the family.” Your stepmother had finished. Knowing fighting them was no use in this situation and would have only made things worse you had meekly apologised and retreated back to the kitchen where you finished your meal.
The following years they kept chipping away at you. Making you cook, clean, do their laundry, tend to the gardens, and help them dress. Your body permanently aching, skin cracking and developing callouses. All whilst they berated you for every little thing you did wrong in their eyes. Sometimes even going so far as to beat you, adding to the pain they already made you endure.
One cold winters’ night you were so exhausted from all the chores you had passed out next to the fireplace in an attempt to keep warm, only to be awoken by your stepfamily laughing at the fact that you were covered in ashes, mockingly calling you by the name they would from then on continue to call you: ‘Cinders’.
As often as you could, you would still visit your parents’ tree. You would talk to them and cry, wishing for a better life. The years went by, and you got used to your new life, learning what sets off your stepfamily and what makes them happy, using that to your advantage.
You are lacing up one of your stepsisters’ corset when your stepmother walks in, newspaper in hand. “Girls, I have splendid news!”
“What is it mother?” The girl stands up and rushes to her mother, no regard for you, who is still attempting to lace her up. “Is it about the king’s ‘important announcement’?” The other girl questions, her speech slightly impaired by her putting on lipstick at the same time. “Yes, it is. The king has announced there is to be a royal masquerade tonight, he has invited everyone in the kingdom to the palace! This is the perfect opportunity to find you girls soms suitors.” The girls start excitedly discussing dresses as you finish tying up the corset smiling to yourself, thinking of how nice it would be to go to an event like that, even for just one night.
“What are you smiling at?” Your daydreams are rudely interrupted by one of your stepsisters. “It’s not like you will go.” The girls laugh at you as you take a breath to steady yourself before saying something you will come to regret.
“The announcement does say ‘everyone’, does it not?”
The girls’ eyes widen as they start yelling incoherent disagreements, grasping at the paper in their mother’s hands. “GIRLS! Calm yourselves.” Your stepmother looks from your now quiet stepsisters to you. Oops.
“The announcement does indeed state that everyone is invited. You may go if you wish to do so.” She continues before you can find the words to respond. “IF, you complete all of your chores before tonight, of course.” She smirks, your stepsisters start laughing again. You could live with that. “Yes stepmother.” With that you finish getting the girls ready for the day.
“Come girls, we must find you new dresses before tonight. You must look your best tonight.“ Your stepmother motions for the girls to follow her. She moves past a bowl of lentils the girls had been using for their skin, picking it up and holding it out for you to take. “Bring these back to the kitchen, won’t you?” Before you can take the bowl from her, she drops the bowl, lentils scattering into the fireplace. “Stupid child! You’ll retrieve those and return them to the kitchen, at once! We cannot afford to be wasteful in this house. Let’s go girls!”
Devastated you watch them leave, looking back to the large amount of lentils scattered in the ashes. There is no way you could retrieve every single one before tonight. Holding back your tears you got started, carefully picking the lentils one by one from the fireplace and placing them back into the bowl. Hours pass and by the time your stepfamily returned with their new wardrobe you are still not finished.
The tears start coming when you watch your stepfamily leave, getting in their carriage with mocking smiles and giggles directed at you. Once they are out of sight you take off, running towards the only place you have managed to find comfort in these last hellish years. Tears streaming down your face you collapse by the tree, digging your fingers into the dirt, letting out sobs filled with years of torment and despair. Suddenly your breakdown is interrupted by a gentle hand on your shoulder.
“There, there, dear. Let it out, I’m here now.” Startled, you stop crying and look up, seeing a woman. She is dressed in a simple pale blue dress, she has a fuller body, hair, whitened by age, tied in a loose bun at the crown of her head with a pink ribbon, her face decorated with wrinkles, and kind eyes. An otherworldly kind of glow surrounds her. She reminds you of your old friend the cook. Gently she cups your cheeks, wiping away your tears. “Wha- who are you?” You choke out. “Why, your fairy godmother of course!” She grasps your hands and pulls you up from the ground, attempting to wipe away the dirt now decorating the rags you wear. “Now, what has got you so upset, dear?” For some reason you feel like you can trust her, so you tell her everything. You tell her about your father, his death and how he left you with your stepfamily. How they have treated you all these years. How you just wanted one night where you could be carefree and how they ruined your one chance.
“I am so sorry you had to go through all that, my darling. But not to worry, I will make sure you have your night!” She pulls out a glowing wand out of seemingly thin air and taps it thoughtfully against her chin. “A masquerade at the palace you said? Hm, you would need something to get you there. Let’s see…” She looks around for a moment, then her gaze lands on a pumpkin. “AHA, how about a golden carriage?” Before you can question where she is going to find a golden carriage on such short notice, she waves her wand. Nothing happens at first, then the pumpkin starts glowing, transforming into a beautiful golden carriage. “Oh, it’s beautiful!” You run your fingers over the intricate patterns.
“Yes, isn’t it just? Now, with an elegant carriage like that, you would need something elegant to pull it. How about…” Four mice scurry from under the carriage, and with a wave of her wand, your fairy godmother transforms them into majestic white horses. “Oh, this is really coming together nicely, isn’t it? Now, someone is going to need to drive you… There!” A rat sitting by one of the wheels, now transformed into a human coach. “You start reining in those horses, dear. Finally, you need to find some footmen.” She notices two lizards that have moved onto the back of the carriage. “Oh, look! Volunteers!” With that the lizards are transformed into human footmen.
“Now, no time to lose, my darling, jump in. The night only lasts so long!” Your fairy godmother starts ushering you towards the carriage. “Wait, but I-” She shushes you. “Now, now, don’t try to thank me, it’s my genuine pleasure.” “Oh no, I didn’t- well, I mean-, it’s just, my clothes…” You try to explain. “Yes, yes, you look perf-, oh, wait.” She takes in the rags you’re currently dressed in. “No, this won’t do. Let’s see what I can do for you.”
She waves her wand and you are surrounded by a glowing white light. Your rags seemingly mending themselves, transforming into the most beautiful silvery-blue garments you have ever seen, adorned with jewels and intricate embroidery, complete with a mask. “Oh, it’s beautiful fairy godmother, thank you!” You look down and find your ragged shoes are now “Glass slippers?” You look questionably at her. “Well, every look needs something special, don’t you think?” They are oddly comfortable.
“Now, it’s getting late. Hurry up, darling!” One of your new footmen helps you into the carriage. “OH, before I forget I must warn you, dear, for this magic is not for forever. Be sure to return before the stroke of midnight, when the spell will be broken.” You nod, taking her hand. “Midnight, got it. Thank you, fairy godmother.” She squeezes your hand. “Yes, yes, hurry off now, dear! Have a good time, dance, enjoy your night!” The carriage starts driving away and you watch from the window of your carriage as your fairy godmother starts glowing and then disappears.
You quickly arrive at the palace, your footmen helping you out of the carriage and escorting you up the steps of the palace to the entrance. Once you walk inside the first thing you notice is that it seems like everyone is staring at you for a moment. You haven’t been in a crowd this big since you were a child, it’s overwhelming. You quickly move to blend in with the crowd, distracting yourself by taking everything in. The ballroom is huge, lit with candles on crystal chandeliers, paintings decorating the grand walls, music sounding through every corner, people dancing in the middle. It is more than you could have ever imagined.
On the other side of the room there is Wyll, the prince. He is trapped in an unfortunate conversation with one of his suitors, duchess Mizora of Avernus. The redhead has been trying to talk to him the whole night, and despite Wyll’s attempts to avoid her, she has managed to dig her perfectly manicured claws into him and refused to let him go. Parading him around the room like he’s already hers. Her family is rich and powerful so it’s only a matter of time before his father officially betroths them. “How about I get us some drinks, Mizora?” He’s desperate to get away from her at this point. “Yes, pet. That would be grand, hurry back!” With a nod to whomever Mizora was talking to he pried himself from Mizora’s hold on him and slipped away.
You slowly continue making your way through the room until you spot three very familiar figures. Your stepfamily is but a few steps away from you, laughing too loudly at a joke some other highborn made, and despite the mask you’re wearing you are sure they would recognise you, so you swiftly turn around and start moving in the opposite direction, occasionally looking behind you. Suddenly you bump into someone, startled you turn to face them, ready to apologise.
You and Wyll face each other, and it seems like time stands still, like it’s just the two of you in that room. He has dark skin with small scars littered all over his youthful face along with well-groomed facial hair. His dark hair is kept in neat rows, tied together with a ribbon, and with cropped sides. The top of his face is hidden by an intricate mask with large devil horns coming out of it, only revealing his eyes. His left eye is brown while his right is replaced with a stone one, the pupil taking the shape of a love heart. His clothing is extravagant yet modest. “Hello.” You don’t know who he is, nor do you seem to care. “Hello.” Your heart skips a beat at his voice. He extends his hand to you. “May I have this dance?” You take his hand, smiling at him. “Yes, you may.” He smiles and leads you to the dance floor in the middle of the room.
The two of you dance for what feels like hours, talking the whole way through, about everything and nothing. Even though you just met it feels like you have known each other your whole lives. Eventually he asks you if you would like to visit the gardens for some fresh air and you agree.
“I’m not usually one for parties, though I do enjoy a good dance.” He confesses. “Me neither, I can’t remember the last time I attended a party. Especially one as grand as this one.” He smiles at you as you talk, fingers intertwined as you stroll through the gardens. “Tonight feels like something out of the fairy tales my father used to read to me.” You say, stopping on a bridge looking at the moon reflected in the gentle stream underneath. “You and your father are close then?” He asks. “We were… He passed years ago.” You trace the grooves in the wooden railing. “How about you? Are you close to your father?” He hesitates. “I-, It’s complicated. I admire him. He’s the kind of man I aspire to be, but he is a hard man to get close to.” You grab his hand in attempt to comfort him. He seems to appreciate it. “And your mother?” He shrugs. “There’s nothing to tell. She died when I was born.” You hum. “We have that in common then.” It is quiet for a moment before you break the tension. “We really ought to discuss happier topics before one of us starts crying.” He laughs and twirls you, making you laugh as well, wrapping your arms around his neck. You sigh dreamily. “A beautiful night. I wish it could last forever.” He has a curious twinkle in his eye as he looks at you. “Yes, it is.” Then he leans in, letting you choose whether to let your lips meet or not. You are about to kiss him when you hear a clock strike midnight.
“Midnight. I have to go!” Wyll looks confused as you move away from him and rush down the bridge. “Go? No, no, wait! It’s only midnight, surely you can stay a bit longer?” You are running now, Wyll chasing you. “I’m sorry, I have no time to explain! Thank you for tonight, but I really have to go!” You rush as fast as you can down the steps of the palace without falling, losing one of your glass slippers along the way. “Please, come back! I don’t even know your name, how will I find you!? Wait!” He stops halfway on the steps, watching as you get ushered in your carriage by your footmen before hurriedly taking off. Wyll looks down in defeat, noticing your glass slipper and gently picking it up. “There will be another time for us. I will find you.”
Your carriage starts shrinking around you, and you just barely manage to jump out before all magic disappears and you are returned to your familiar rags. Feeling exhausted by the thrill of your escape yet fulfilled by the night you gather yourself and stand up. You notice your remaining glass slipper hasn’t disappeared along with everything else. You take off the slipper holding it to your chest. You look up, whispering your thanks to the sky in hope your fairy godmother could hear you, and begin your journey back home where you spend the rest of the night dreaming of the kind man you met at the masquerade.
The next morning you proceed with you chores as usual, still giddy from last night. You prepare breakfast for your stepfamily and right as you are getting ready to bring it up, your stepmother crosses your path. “There you are! My daughters, where are they?” she spits out at you. “Um, I think they are still abed, stepmother.” You answer, confused by her sudden urgency this early in the morning. “Well, don’t just stand there, bring up breakfast at once!” You do as she says and rush after her up the stairs and into your stepsister’s bedroom. Your stepmother draws the curtains, waking up your stepsister. “Get up, child! We haven’t a moment to lose.” She startles awake as you set down a breakfast tray on her nightstand. “Huh, what, why?” She yawns. Your stepmother doesn’t bother answering her and you follow her as she enters your other stepsister’s bedroom, drawing those curtains as well. “Hurry now! He’ll be here any moment!” Your stepsister moseys in after you, sitting on her sister’s bed. “Who will?” She asks, her voice muffled by the piece of bread she’s chewing on. Your stepmother rummages through a wardrobe as she answers. “The prince! Oh, the entire kingdom is speaking about it. They say he’s madly in love! Someone lost a glass slipper at the masquerade last night, and the prince intends on marrying whomever fits it. He’s been looking all night.”
Realisation rushes through your body and you drop the breakfast tray, the dishes shattering and the food spilling all over the floor. You were dancing with the prince last night? He’s looking for you? Madly in love? “You clumsy little fool! Clean that up, then help my daughters dress. Make sure they look their best, for one of them shall be betrothed to the prince today!” Still in a daze you start picking up the shattered porcelain. “What do you mean ‘betrothed’, he’s in love with whom that slipper belongs to, not one of us?” One of your stepsisters whines. “But he doesn’t know who that is, does he? Everyone was wearing masks, the slipper is his only clue! We just need to make one of you fit that slipper and we’ll be royalty!” The girls look at each other for a second and then suddenly jump up, scrambling to gather their best dresses, jewellery, and makeup. You pick up the final shards and move out the room to get the cleaning supplies, humming the whole way through. He’s coming for you.
Your stepmother watches you leave, frowning she follows you. You throw away the shards and grab a mop and a bucket. When you turn around you are suddenly face to face with your stepmother. “What has got you so happy?” She asks suspiciously. “Oh, well, I suppose I am excited for the prince to come. It’s not every day a member of the royal family visits your home after all.” You aren’t sure she buys your lie as she raises her eyebrow. “Hm. Well since you weren’t at the masquerade last night, there is no need for you to be at the fitting. I want you to clean mine and the girls’ bedrooms once you finish getting them ready and cleaning up your mess.” Her dress swishes against your legs as she turns around and leaves you. Oh well, you are sure you could just slip down and meet them anyway.
You clean up the spilled food, get the girls ready, and get started in your stepmother’s bedroom when you hear the sound of horses approaching from the window. You smile to yourself, putting down the broom, and fix yourself up in the mirror above the vanity, brushing the dust off your rags and taking off your apron. You quickly rush to the door only to be met with your stepmother in the entrance. She smiles wickedly at you, closing and locking the door. You rush to the door attempting to turn the knob to open it, to no avail. “No, wait, please! Let me out! You can’t keep me in here!” You bang your fists against the door in desperation as your stepmother descends to open the front door.
Wyll and a few footmen enter. “Your highness, we welcome you into our humble home.” Your stepmother and sisters curtsy as deep as they can, the girls wobbling slightly in their eagerness. “Please, no need for that, rise. I assume you are aware as to my reason for coming here?” They stand up. “Yes, how kind of you to return me my slipper, dear.” One of your stepsisters preens, giving the other girl a sly grin. “Ah, yes, well, I suppose we’ll see about that.” He motions for one of the footmen behind him and he gently passes Wyll the slipper. “Let’s proceed shall we?”
Meanwhile you have rampaged the whole bedroom in search for something you could use to break out. Your gaze falls on the vanity. Pulling out the drawers you find a delicate hairpin. Good enough. You rush back to the door and start picking the lock.
“Oh, it’s. Terribly snug today. You know how it is, after dancing all night.” Your stepsister strains, pushing and tugging at the slipper in an attempt to make it fit. “Are you sure you are trying it on the right foot, dear?” Your stepmother sighs, rubbing her temple. “Yes. Mother. I. Am. It must’ve shrunk or something.” Wyll coughs. “Maybe your other daughter should give it a try?” Your stepmother inhales sharply. “No, like she said. Swollen feet. I have just the remedy for that in the other room. Child, come!” She yanks the slipper from her daughter’s grip, waltzing into the next room, her daughters rushing after her. “Where is that remedy mother, this is really starting to hurt.” Your stepsister whines, rubbing her foot. “Here, this should do the trick!” Your stepmother holds up a knife. “If we cut off a few toes it should fit.” Your stepsister holds her foot protectively. “WHAT!?” Your stepmother hushes her. “It’s not like you will need to stand or walk when you become royalty, will you? Now, hold still.”
Wyll stifles a yawn as the door to the other room opens again, the girls spilling out. “And? Does it fit?” Your stepsister walks towards him, wincing every step of the way. “See for yourself.” She shows him her foot, now encased perfectly in the glass slipper. Wyll looks closer, not fully believing her. His suspicions are proven correct when he notices the blood soaking through her stocking. Wyll looks back up at her. “The only thing I see is a liar. The next young lady, please.” Your stepsister lets out a weird mix between a laugh and a cry. “And please, get this one bandaged up.” Your other stepsister swallows before taking the slipper and attempting to force it on her own foot. Everyone watches her struggle for a moment until her mother uses the same excuse of swollen feet and an imaginary remedy to quickly excuse them to the other room again before Wyll can protest. “Just a bit off the heel should make it fit. Hold still now.”
They walk out again. “A perfect fit your highness!” Your stepmother preens, pushing her daughter to walk towards him. She only makes it a few steps before promptly collapsing. Wyll sighs, lifting the girl up on a chair and taking the bloodied slipper from her butchered foot, handing it to one of the footmen. “Were you the only ones at the masquerade last night?” Your stepmother stiffly nods her head. “Yes, there is no one else, your highness.” Wyll nods solemnly. “I shall take my leave then. See to it they get the care they need, good day.” He bows and moves for the door.
Finally, you hear a click, rising to your feet you scramble to open the door and run out as fast as your legs are willing to carry you. “Your highness!?” Wyll freezes, hand on the door handle. “Your highness, please, may I try it on?” He turns around, recognising your voice. “Oh, pay them no attention, they’re only our servant.” Your stepmother rushes to stop you before you can reach Wyll. “Besides, they were not at the masquerade; they were too busy!” She desperately tries to convince Wyll but he doesn’t listen to her and motions for the slipper while walking towards you, not taking his eyes off you.
In a last move of desperation your stepmother subtly extends her leg to trip the footman bringing the slipper, causing him to stumble and drop the slipper, which shatters between you and Wyll. “Oh, dear! Oh, this is just horrible!” Your stepmother pretends to lament. Wyll looks from the shattered slipper to your stepmother, back to the slipper, and finally to you when you speak up. “Well, it would be, but you see. I have the other slipper.” You take the glass slipper out of your pocket and present it to the room, barely able to contain your excitement. Wyll grins, taking it, getting down on one knee and slipping it on your foot, smiling up at you when it fits perfectly. “Why you little-” Your stepmother approaches you with a murderous look in her eye but is stopped by two footmen. Wyll gently grabs your hand and leads you outside.
He stops in front of the carriage he arrived in, turning around and cupping your cheeks. “It’s really you.” You smile at him, wrapping your hands around his wrists, leaning into his touch. “The one and only.” He laughs, wrapping you up in a hug that makes you feel all warm and safe inside. “Are you ready to come with me to the palace? Do we need to get anything from inside?” He asks, letting you go. You think for a moment. That house may technically be yours, but nothing in there has truly belonged to you since your father died you decide. “No there’s nothing inside. I would like to say one final goodbye though. Come with me?” Wyll nods, telling the footmen he needs a moment, he takes your hand, allowing you to lead him.
After a few moments of walking in comfortable silence the two of you come upon the familiar oak tree where you tell him everything, your father’s remarrying, his death, your stepfamily’s abuse, the fairy godmother. It feels good to get everything off your chest. Once you are finished, he takes a moment to take it all in before speaking. “That’s… a lot. I’m sorry that happened to you. I want you to know that from this day forward I’m here for you. Always.” You smile at him, drinking in the sight of him. The sunlight shines through the branches and the leaves of the tree, bathing him in a golden light. You have moved closer to each other without properly noticing the movement, lost in the moment. “May I kiss you?” The question falls from your lips as your gaze drops to his. He sighs dreamily. “Yes, you may.”
His lips feel soft and full against yours; he tastes like honey and lavender. His hand gently moves to grip your waist, squeezing slightly, the other cupping your cheek. The kiss is short and sweet, the both of you pouring your feelings for the other in the movement of your mouths dancing against each other. You lean your forehead against his when you part. He whispers your name. “We have not known each other long, but it feels like the opposite. I love you. With your parents as our witness, will you be mine – today, and tomorrow, and reaching into eternity?” He kneels down on one knee as he speaks, taking an acorn from the ground and holding it up to you.
With tears in your eyes, you take the acorn and nod, unable to speak, pulling him up for another sweet kiss. With that you bid your parents farewell and the two of you head for the castle, where you would live happily ever after.
The End.