Cinders Ella

Ah, so you've returned. Excellent. Welcome back to the Realm of "What if...?". I have another classic for you today, one that has many versions worldwide: the Tale of the Little Cinder Girl. Suspend your disbelief for me once more, just for a few moments, and I shall begin our tale anew.

There was once a merchant, who lived in harmony on a small plot of land in a place and age lost to time. He had a loving wife, and a graceful, lovely daughter, whom he both adored dearly. One dark, cold Winter, Fate turned its hand against the merchant, however, and his beautiful yet frail wife succumbed to sickness and death. It was a mighty blow to the merchant, but at the very least he still had his daughter to act as a balm for his grief.

Years passed, and two things became quite evident to the merchant: one, he was getting older and lonelier by the day, and two, his daughter was growing as well but without the love and guidance of a mother. To solve both problems, the merchant took a new wife; she was a woman of breeding - a widow herself to a Baron - and had two daughters of her own around his daughter's age. The merchant was happy to provide not only a new mother but sisters as well to his beloved daughter, and for a time everything felt perfect.

It wasn't long, sadly, before the merchant left the mortal world to rejoin with his first wife, leaving his daughter, Ella, an orphan. Her stepmother, who had up to that time been at least cordial, showed her true colors upon the merchant's death. She gave all Ella's possessions to her own spoiled daughters, and made the poor girl little more than a servant in her own home. Ella was made to work from sun up to sun down, and forced to sleep in the attic with the mice. Some nights, Ella was so tired from working that she couldn't climb the lofty, creaky steps to the attic, and instead made up a bed for herself in the kitchen by the hearth. It was warmer there anyway than the drafty old attic, but in the morning her face would be smeared and streaked with soot from the ashes. Her stepsisters found great humor in this and mocked Ella with a cruel name: "Cinders Ella". To Ella's shame, the moniker stuck.

As more time passed, Ella became increasingly resentful of her family. Their treatment of her worsened with every passing week, month and year, unwittingly fertilizing the hatred and anger within Ella. Ella had no friends - a purposeful arrangement orchestrated by her stepmother, to keep her that much more isolated - so she began voicing her gripes to the mice in the attic. Some nights she wouldn't sleep, just sat in the corner with a handful of mice, whispering her discontent feverishly to them. The isolation and abuse had begun to cause her mind to fracture, to the point where she believed the mice could actually understand her and talk back. In time, Ella began whispering plans of revenge to their tiny, furry ears.

She had been put in charge of cooking all the meals for her stepmother and stepsisters some time ago, so the solution seemed a simple one: she would poison them all, slowly to draw out their suffering. Then, once they were dead, she would bury their bodies in the pumpkin patch and fix up the house, perhaps transforming it into an inn where she could woo potential suitors. Ella had hardly gotten her plan off the ground, however, when a messenger from the palace dropped off a letter. The crown prince was hosting a festival in celebration of their kingdom's latest victory in battle, wherein he hoped to find a bride. All of the eligible young maidens were to attend by the king's mandate, which made Ella's heart soar. She had never really wanted to be a princess, but in doing so it would be a perfect ticket out of the hell she was living in. That, and imagining the looks of jealousy and outrage on her stepsisters' faces were she to be chosen by the prince filled her with intense delight.

Ella knew she had to be smart about this. For as long as she was able, she kept the letter hidden to give herself a head start on making her gown. Her stepmother had left a trunk of Ella's mother's "old rags" in the attic, and Ella was quick to find a dress that could easily be fixed up into something decent. In fact, it was her mother's wedding gown, the only bit of dowry Ella managed to keep from her stepsisters' grubby hands. Eventually, though, Ella gave the letter to her stepmother, if only to spare herself a beating should her stepmother learn about the festival from an outside source. Predictably, her stepmother wasted no time rushing into town to spend as much money as possible on her own homely daughters to make them suitable would-be brides for the prince.

Although Ella tried to be as secretive as possible about her preparations, eventually her stepmother found out. The first night of the festival, she was caught finishing up the hem of her gown, which was immediately taken from her and shredded by her stepsisters. Ella was then given a sound beating and forced to spend the night outside, left weeping while her stepsisters climbed into their hired coach for the evening. Ella screamed and sobbed in anger and frustration, shouting her sworn vengeance to the heavens. When she was all but hoarse, an old woman in a cloak shuffled out of the woods into the garden. "Fret not, my dear," the old hag cackled, "If thou wish to go to the festival, thee may."

Before Ella could speak again, the old hag waved her staff and the shreds of gown by Ella's feet knit themselves back together into a garment more beautiful than she could ever have imagined. Another wave of the staff, and a half-rotted pumpkin shell rolled through the gate, transforming as it did so into a handsome silver and black carriage. The mice from the attic appeared in an instant before her, then their limbs twisted and stretched until they became a team of sleek, black horses. Finally, the old woman produced from the folds of her cloak a pair of slippers forged from the purest silver. "Just thy size, my dear," she grinned, showing off the stumps of a handful of broken, rotted teeth.

Ella gazed in awe at her gown, carriage, horses and slippers, then frowned bitterly after a moment. "Thank you," she finally said, "but what of my stepmother and stepsisters? What of my vengeance?"

The old hag let out a barking, cackling laugh, "Thy vengeance shall be swift and sweet; that I assure thee. Go; enjoy thyself... but be sure to return before the very last stroke of midnight, else thy family may discover thy plot."

Swift as the North Wind the horses sped through the night, ferrying Ella to the palace grounds. The festival was in full swing when she arrived; it was rife with jugglers and acrobats and fools, overflowing with ale and fine, good food Ella had not tasted in ages, and abundant in merriment and music. Ella forgot her vengeance for a moment or two as she relished the music, food and entertainment, but then she clapped eyes on the prince. He was no prize, surely; his tunic and stockings could scarcely contain his soft, doughy physique, and she had seen handsomer faces on livestock. Still, every maiden around him swooned and tittered, vying for his affections and flattering him incessantly. Ella realized then that they were of her own mind; seeking power and position, not love. The prince smiled and treated each maiden couretously, but it was clear to Ella that he tired of their flattery and whimpering. Their eyes locked for a moment, and a flicker of intrigue flashed across his rosy, pocked face... and Ella knew she had him on the hook.

Instead of approaching him, Ella kept her distance and waited for him to approach her. She stayed aloof and disinterested, which - as she'd hoped - made him more interested in her. By a quarter to midnight, she could have led him around the courtyard by the nose if he had let her, he was so enamoured. Ella knew her time was growing short, however, and at the first stroke of midnight she fled the prince's side without so much as giving him her name. As she ran, her silver slippers began cutting into her feet painfully. In the interest of speed, she kicked them off and ran barefoot until she reached her carriage. She made it back home with minutes to spare before her stepmother and stepsisters returned behind her. Everything the old hag had enchanted returned to the way it was before, except the silver slippers she had been gifted. Ella hid them in the pumpkin patch where she knew no one but herself could find them, and she slept that night with a smile on her face.

The second and third nights of the festival followed a similar pattern; every night, after her family had gone, the old hag returned and cast her spell again, and each time the coach and her gown became more extravagant. By the third and final night of the festival, the prince was utterly smitten with Ella. She found him to be a dullard and a fool, but he had a stout heart despite everything. A part of her believed that she could tolerate being his bride, in the short term at least. She thought, perhaps, after a few months or so she might be able to fake her death and run away, or if she truly grew to hate him she could always have him eliminated and live the rest of her life in luxury as a widow. The more she thought about it, she quite liked that idea. As before, the clock struck midnight, and Ella was forced to flee from the festival. Like the first and second nights, she took off her slippers to run barefoot, but took no notice in her haste that one of them had fallen from her arms until she got back into the carriage.

The next morning at the breakfast table, all her stepsisters would talk about was the prince and the mysterious young maiden that had claimed his heart. According to them, he decreed that she would be his bride in front of the entire kingdom, but nobody was able to find where she'd gone. Later that day, a proclaimation was sent out to every household in the kingdom: the prince himself would be calling on each of his citizens with the slipper his beloved had left behind, and whomever it fit would surely be his bride. Ella laughed out loud at the proclaimation; she knew the prince was dim-witted, but didn't think he'd come up with such a ridiculous scheme to find her. Fearing that her slipper would fit any number of girls, Ella hurried to the pumpkin patch to find its mate. Her hope was that if he found she had the matching slipper, he would end his search before anyone else could claim her rightfully earned position as princess. What she had not counted on was that she was followed.

Her stepmother found her digging in the pumpkin patch for her slipper, and as soon as it was in her hand it was immediately snatched out. "Foolish, vile little wretch," Stepmother shrieked, "you think you can cheat my daughters out of a crown?! You will pay for this insolence... with your life!!" She lunged at Ella then, and began beating the girl with the shoe. Ella's simmering anger and rage boiled forth suddenly, shattering whatever remnants of sanity she had left. Her stepmother, weakened from the poison she'd unwittingly already consumed, was completely caught off guard by Ella fighting back so viciously. Because of this, the older woman was easily overpowered by the mad, vengeful girl within minutes. Once Ella's rage was quelled and her stepmother breathed no more, she buried her as planned in the pumpkin patch and hurried to get herself cleaned up.

Her stepsisters asked repeatedly all day where their mother was, but Ella spoke not a word to them. She helped herself to one of her favorite old dresses purloined by her stepsisters, which they shrieked and squawked in protest of. As much as they fussed, however, they didn't do anything to stop her. Ella was a little confused by this at first, until she realized they were looking upon her in fear. They had sensed that something within Ella had changed, and Ella knew they were right. Gone was the frightened, meek little scullery maid they'd held under their thumbs for the majority of their lives. In her place was a fiery beacon of quiet, hellish rage.

The prince and his entourage arrived at Ella's house around sunset. Ella kept her face covered with a veil, both to conceal her identity and to hide the injuries her late stepmother had left there. Surprisingly, she let her stepsisters try the slipper on first. The eldest of the two could barely get her foot into the hard, metallic shoe; the younger had more luck, but her feet were far too long for her heel to fit into the slipper. Next, came Ella's turn. When the prince lifted her foot by the ankle to slide it into the shoe, he saw the marks left on it where the shoe had cut into her foot and rubbed it raw. He realized then that this young maiden must be his princess, and beseeched her to remove her veil. Ella declined. "I wish to keep my face hidden until our wedding night," she said, "but have no doubt that I am indeed your bride. Please, allow me to join you in the palace at once... and my two handmaidens, of course."

Ella's stepsisters started to protest at being referred to as handmaidens, but their tongues stilled in fear at the sharp glint of her eyes through her veil. From that moment on, they were forced into servitude to Ella, given every kindness in return that they had first given to their stepsister. The body of Ella's stepmother was never found, as Ella's childhood home was left abandoned. One year later, after the prince's tragic, untimely death, Ella returned to her home with her own infant son. She, and her favorite manservant, Hugh, (whom some courtiers believed that the newborn prince bore a striking resemblance to) restored the house to its former glory and transformed it into a roadside tavern, which some say still stands to this day.