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Once upon a time, there was an idyllic little kingdom. As many kingdoms do, this one had a king; the king had a palace, and the palace sat in the middle of a charming little town, and in that town there lived a girl named Ella. Little Ella lived a happy life with her mother and father, running and playing and doing all the other things little girls do.
But, of course, this was not to last.
When Ella was ten years old, her mother took ill, and shortly passed away. This was very sad for Ella and her father, but Ella was nothing if not resilient, and her father summoned the strength to go on for the sake of his daughter, and together they recovered and moved forward. And after a few more years, Ella’s father fell in love once again.
Ella’s father’s new love was a very pretty woman, almost as pretty as Ella’s mother had been, and brought with her two very pretty daughters - one older than Ella, and one younger. This new presence filling the empty spaces her mother had left behind was a bittersweet thing, but Ella chose to look forward to getting to know her, and to befriending her new sisters-to-be.
Unfortunately, her hopes did not come to pass. The woman was at best uninterested in Ella, and at worst cold and dismissive; her daughters were mean and insulting, cruel and vicious, more schoolyard bullies than treasured sisters. But they all three of them put on kinder faces when Ella’s father was around, and they made him happy, and Ella could not bring herself to deny him that; and so the woman became, in time, his wife.
In so doing, she took on his title, for Ella’s mother and father had been minor nobility in the king’s court. She and her daughters remained kind and charming in Ella’s father’s presence and wicked away from him, and Ella continued to endure it for her father’s sake. And then, after long enough to not appear suspicious, Ella’s father too fell ill, and died of what might even have been natural causes, for all anyone could prove.
And so Ella was left alone with her wicked step-mother and cruel step-sisters, who no longer needed to pretend kindness even occasionally.
The first thing they did was take all of Ella’s belongings, picking out whatever they wanted for themselves from among them and selling the rest. Then they set Ella to work; she was to cook and clean, to fetch and carry, to sew and darn, to fuel the furnace that warmed the house. The furnace, too, came to be her source of warmth at night, one of her step-sisters having laid claim to her room; she slept on the sooty floor beneath a threadbare blanket, and when that soot inevitably dirtied her skin they took to calling her Cinder-Ella. And in this way did all the years of her teenagehood pass and beyond, until she was a woman of her mid-twenties and the life of a poor mistreated servant was practically all she had ever known.
One day, Ella’s step-mother came home in a flurry of excitement. She called her daughters into the room, and then called for Ella, and sneered at her when she joined them. And she explained that the king had announced that the very next month there would be a ball; he had a daughter, the princess of the kingdom, for whom he was seeking a bride. Ella’s step-sisters, their mother announced, would be attending the ball, in hopes of catching the princess’ eye. Ella, of course, would not be there; her job was to create the beautiful dresses her step-sisters would wear.
And so Ella’s days were consumed with designing and measuring and cutting and sewing, on top of all her normal chores. It was long, tiring work, made worse because her step-sisters were terrible subjects; they were uncooperative at every turn, frequently demanded she change this or that on a whim, and twice decided they wanted something completely different, forcing her to abandon a dress half-finished and start anew.
Still, she lost herself in the work, enjoying the feeling of something coming together under her own hands; and when the day of the ball came and she applied the finishing touches, she could look upon her work and feel proud.
“Are you finally done?” asked her elder step-sister, quite spoiling the mood, and snatched the dress away forthwith. The hour of the ball was almost upon them, and even Ella’s step-mother was too tense with anticipation to harass her; she had a rare chance to relax as her step-sisters prepared to leave.
Finally they emerged, bedecked with jewelry and make-up and the products of Ella’s hard work. Their mother looked them up and down, and nodded in approval. “You look beautiful,” she said approvingly. “The princess will surely be enchanted. Now, come, let’s be off; we mustn’t be unfashionably late.” She bustled them out of the door, turning a final look behind her at Ella. “And you, finish your chores,” she said. “I want this house spotless when we return.”
“Yes, step-mother,” said Ella, and she hmphed through her nose and left, closing the door behind her. Ella listened to them as they descended the stairs, exited the house, and took off down the street with the sound of hoofbeats; safely alone, she sat down in the sewing chair, stared at the mannequins adorned with her unfinished dresses, closed her eyes, and sighed. “Oh, I do wish I could go to the ball as well,” she murmured to herself.
“Is that so, dearie?”
Ella yelped and jolted upright, her eyes flying open to behold a very strange sight: there was someone in the room with her. Befitting her voice, she looked like a kind and matronly old woman, with grey hair in a bun and a smile on her wrinkled face. Unlike any old woman Ella had met, however, she wore a glittering yellow robe, measured perhaps three feet from head to toes, and hovered above the ground on a pair of enormous butterfly wings.
“Wh-who are you?” Ella asked, bewildered.
“Why, I’m a fairy godmother, my love,” the woman replied. “I’m here to grant your heart’s fondest wish! The ball, you said?”
“I - yes,” said Ella. “The princess’ ball, it’s today, and I worked so very hard - I’m sorry, did you say fairy godmother?”
“I did!” said the fairy godmother cheerfully. “And not to worry, dear, I can most certainly get you to the ball! Just follow me, oh, bring that lovely dress, and we’ll get you on your way - do you have a kitchen, by any chance?”
“We do, downstairs,” she said, habit driving her to do as she was told. “This isn’t finished, though,” she told the fairy godmother as she lifted the dress off of the mannequin.
“Oh, not to worry, my love, that’s quite all right,” said the fairy godmother, bustling out the door with Ella in tow. “We’ll get it finished in no time. You certainly can’t go to the ball without a dress, after all!”
“Of course not,” Ella agreed weakly.
The fairy godmother led them into the kitchen, and promptly busied herself rummaging through the cupboards. Into the smallest pan she tossed an assortment of ingredients and water to stir them into; this mixture she set to boiling on the stovetop, stirring continuously, and mere minutes later, far more quickly than it should have cooked, she scooped out a spoonful of smooth, even liquid. She tasted it, hummed consideringly, and then offered it to Ella. “Here, dearie, you try this. I’m sure it’s missing something, but I can’t quite put my finger on it.”
Ella leaned down to taste the - soup? - and considered it. It was quite delicious, but the fairy godmother was right; it tasted incomplete. “Perhaps,” she decided, “just a hint of ginger?”
So saying, she fetched the ginger root, cutting off a small piece to offer; the fairy godmother nodded approvingly, so she dropped it into the pan. Another few stirs, and the fairy godmother sipped it again; this time she nodded in approval. “That’s it exactly,” she said, and took the pan off the stove. Drawing a tiny glass vial, barely larger than a thimble, from somewhere in her robe, she poured out a little of the… stew?… and briefly closed her hands around it; when she opened them again it was emitting a soft golden light. “Perfect!” she said, delightedly, and held it out. “Here you go, dear, drink this and we can have you on your way.”
Taking the vial, Ella marvelled, “This is magic? Why, it was so simple!”
“It’s mostly for the taste, truth be told,” the fairy godmother admitted cheerfully. “I find it helps the medicine go down in the most delightful way. Drink up, dearie!”
Obligingly, Ella tipped the liquid (broth?) into her mouth. It was, indeed, perfect; rich and creamy and smooth as silk in her mouth. It almost seemed a shame to swallow it, but then, that was what it was for; and it produced a most curious sparkling feeling as it went down her throat.
She wasn’t entirely certain what she expected to happen, but whatever it was, it did not. After a few moments, Ella glanced around herself, confirming nothing had changed. “Um,” she said. “…What now?”
“Why, now we get you ready, of course!” The fairy godmother flitted over to the dress, which Ella had draped over the back of a chair. “First things first, my love, you’ll need to get changed. It’s a good thing you had such a lovely dress; you’ll be the belle of the ball!”
“It still isn’t finished, though,” Ella protested, but under the fairy godmother’s enthusiastic direction she nevertheless stripped off her worn and ragged clothes down to her underwear, then went through the complicated process of donning the dress. The sparkling feeling of magic ran over her skin as, with the fairy godmother’s help, she struggled into it and fastened it securely. “There, you see,” she said, turning to face the fairy godmother. “I’m not -”
She stopped talking abruptly at the sight. The fairy godmother had acquired from somewhere - perhaps deep in the pockets of her voluminous robe - a tall, rectangular object it took Ella a very long moment to realize was a mirror, for within it was-
“Is that… me?”
The woman in the mirror was almost completely unrecognizable to Ella. The dress, for one, was complete, and then some; not only had the missing parts been brought to life just as she’d intended them, the whole thing was decorated and detailed beyond anything she’d dreamed, and yet every stitch was one she might have made, if only she had had the time. It was also, she realized belatedly, fitted perfectly to her size, even though she had sewn it for her step-sister, who was a head shorter than her and distinctly curvier.
And there was more. Ella’s skin was clean and clear, a far cry from the permanent grubbiness she was accustomed to. Her hair was bright and glossy, curled into elaborate ringlets about her face; and her face itself was made up for the first time in her life, subtle but masterful work that completely transformed it. Even her nails, usually short and rough, were manicured and painted a deep green that complemented the look perfectly.
“I look… beautiful,” she murmured, a tear welling up in her eye.
“Oh, my love,” the fairy godmother said softly. “The magic only brought out what was already within you.” She fell silent briefly, and then suddenly clapped her hands together, abruptly breaking the mood. “Well! Now we only need a carriage, then we can see you on your way.”
A carriage, it seemed, could be made from a pumpkin; or at least the fairy godmother took one in her arms, and asked Ella to lead her to a mouse trap. Ella did so, and in the cage she found three mice. Normally, emptying the cage would have been her job, but she had been too busy with the dresses for the past few days, and - “Oh!” she realized. “Oh no, fairy godmother, I completely forgot - I can’t go to the ball, as lovely as it sounds. My step-mother told me to clean while she was away, and she’ll surely be furious if she returns to find I’ve shirked my chores.”
“Not a problem, dear, not a problem at all,” the fairy godmother replied. “Open up the cage and hold out your hands to them, if you please. Don’t worry, they won’t bite!”
Ella wasn’t sure how the mice would help her, but the fairy godmother had yet to lead her astray. She knelt down to the cage, placing her hands flat in front of the little door as she opened it; the mice politely scurried out and arranged themselves on her upturned palms, balanced upright as though standing to attention. “Oh, aren’t you well-behaved!” she gasped, delighted, and stood carefully, trying not to unbalance them.
Much to her surprise - although she supposed she ought to be getting used to surprises by now - the mice turned in unison and dived off her hands. As they fell, and as she gasped in startlement, they expanded, transforming before they hit the floor into full-grown - if a little short and round - human men, one in a chauffeur’s uniform and the other two in plain but serviceable clothing.
“Hold this, will you?” said the fairy godmother, handing the pumpkin to the chauffeur; he took it with a vaguely affirmative squeak, revealing prominent buck teeth. “You see, dearie? This little fellow will drive your carriage, and the others can clean while you’re away.”
“My goodness,” said Ella, “you really have thought of everything, haven’t you, fairy godmother?” The fairy godmother beamed at the compliment. “Very well then, gentlemen, if you don’t mind the work. Do be sure you’re out of sight by the time my step-mother returns, though; I don’t know what she’ll do if she sees you, but it will surely not be pleasant.”
The paired men bowed to her, then scurried out of the room together, off to start cleaning. Ella watched them go, then turned back to the fairy godmother. “Well, then, let’s go… make a carriage of this pumpkin, I suppose!” She giggled. “If you’ll pardon me for just a moment, I should use the lavatory before I go, and then I’ll meet you in front of the house.”
“The lavatory?” For the first time, the smile fell from the fairy godmother’s face, replaced by worry. “Oh no, dear, no no no, you can’t do that, not before you even have a chance to enjoy your wish!”
“Pardon?” asked Ella, quite confused. “What does the lavatory have to do with my wish?”
“Oh goodness me, did you not know? I should have realized - has nobody ever told you how magic works, my love?”
“I don’t think anyone knows how magic works, fairy godmother,” she said. “All I’ve ever heard were fairy tales and children’s stories; I didn’t even know it was truly real until this very day.”
“Oh dear, oh dear,” said the fairy godmother, wringing her hands together. “I suppose I should explain, then. You see, dearie, we fairies are magical creatures; our magic is a part of us, as natural as our blood and bones. Humans, on the other hand, are marvellously mundane; you have no magic of your own, and though you can take it into yourselves, it always seeks to escape. Your breath is too light to carry it away, but anything else - if you pass water, or vomit, or bleed - will let it free, and everything the magic changed will be undone. Your dress, your pretty hair, your charming manservants - they’ll all disappear as though they’d never been.”
“Oh my,” said Ella. “Well, but couldn’t you cast the spell again afterwards? Or perhaps I could make another wish, so that I don’t need to go until after the ball?”
“I’m afraid it doesn’t work like that, dear.” The fairy godmother sank low in the air, clearly dejected. “We can only grant a person one wish. If you let the magic free before the ball, there’s nothing more I can do.”
“Really? How unfortunate.” She shook her head regretfully. “I suppose I’ll simply have to do without, then. I’m not going to let a silly little thing like that keep me from the ball.”
The fairy godmother perked up immediately, wings fluttering in excitement, though she still looked worried. “Oh, but are you sure you’ll be alright, dear? It’s not too terribly urgent, is it?”
“Not at all,” she said, giving a reassuring smile. “It was only a precaution. I should probably stay away from the drinks in any case; it would be a terrible shame if I were to make a drunken fool of myself in front of all the guests.”
It was only partly a lie. Ella had not relieved herself since shortly after waking, before the sun had even begun to rise - hours ago, now. But she had been allowed little to drink as she worked, and in any case, she had long practice holding her waters. Her step-mother and step-sisters did not trust her near their rooms except under supervision, so she was not allowed to go upstairs - where lay the house’s only lavatory - on her own. Unless she was willing to risk annoying them, a risk she only took under dire circumstances, she habitually did her business only once a day, when in the morning her step-mother escorted her upstairs for her five-minute scrub in a tub of cold water, or - once a week - a practically luxurious slightly longer scrub in cold water, so that she was clean enough to tidy their rooms.
So, while she could feel that she could use the restroom if she went to, it was far from what she might describe as terribly urgent.
“Oh, wonderful, wonderful, you’re going to have such a lovely time, dearie,” the fairy godmother said, delighted, and darted towards the door. “Do come on, my love! You haven’t even seen your carriage yet!”
Ella glanced, grinning, at the mouse-turned-chauffeur, who looked a little surprised at the attention but returned a small, polite smile of his own, his cheeks twitching. He hurried after the fairy godmother first, Ella falling into step behind him, and together they exited the house.
The chauffeur carefully placed the pumpkin down in the street, and at the fairy godmother’s bidding Ella leant down to brush her fingers against its skin. It glittered as she stood, and then expanded all at once into a rounded golden-orange carriage harnessed to a mighty horse. At this Ella could only let out a gasp of wonderment, and even the chauffeur gave an admiring squeak.
And then they climbed into their places aboard the carriage, Ella and the chauffeur, with the fairy godmother hovering alongside to see them off with some final well-wishes. The horse took off immediately and smoothly, carrying them through the streets as though floating on a cloud.
Bystanders turned to watch the carriage as it went; once, Ella waved at a group of wide-eyed children, and giggled delightedly as they enthusiastically waved back. Finally they reached the palace, riding in through the wrought-iron gates and up to the main entrance. Ella got out of the carriage, thanked the chauffeur - he gave a proud squeak - and turned to climb the stairs to the front doorway as he rode away behind her. The guards by the doors looked her over once she reached the top and, whether due to magical persuasion or simply the obvious finery of her clothes and vehicle, stood aside to let her in. Up a flight of stairs and down a hallway she went, at the polite direction of the servants inside, and there she found the ballroom.
She had to stop for a minute when she first entered to absorb the sheer sight of it all. Such finery and expense, so much of it all in one place; it was unlike anything she had seen before. Her parents had been titled, certainly, but not nearly so highly-ranked that they were afforded personal invitations to the palace, let alone with their young daughter in tow. The elaborate decorations covering the walls, floor, and ceiling; the enormous sparkling chandelier; the hand-carved, gold-embossed furniture; all of it together felt like something out of a fairy tale.
But then, Ella herself was there at the behest of a fairy godmother, in a magical dress that rivalled any of the other guests’, so who was she to judge?
Buoyed by the thought, she strode confidently into the room, realized she had no idea what exactly one did at parties, and made her way to the snack table. It was full to overflowing with a tremendous array of foods, some of which she hadn’t eaten since she was a child and many more of which she had never had at all. She found a plate, and set to filling it with samples of as many things as she could, popping one into her mouth as she went. It was, of course, excellent - probably, she thought, even by the standards of someone who hadn’t been fed only leftovers of her own cooking for years.
It was partway through this task that Ella first caught sight of the guest of honor.
Princess Charming II, firstborn daughter of King Steadfast IV and heir to the throne, naturally outshone everyone else present - both metaphorically, as she was the most beautiful person in the room, and literally, with small glittering jewels scattered through the locks of her hair. Her dark skin was smooth and flawless, and her smile arrested Ella on sight. Ella, in fact, had stopped in place, her mouth hanging open in distraction, a fact she realized and corrected with some embarrassment.
Though she dearly wished to go over and talk to the princess, Ella restrained herself. She would probably just make a fool of herself, having barely talked to anyone but her step-mother and step-sisters in years; and anyway, there was already a crowd of people vying for the princess’ attention. In fact… yes, there were her step-sisters, near the outer edges of the throng, failing to get any closer or to mask their frustration with that fact.
Better not to try, Ella thought, and returned to filling her plate - though not without the occasional princessward glance. Though the fairy godmother’s warning echoed in her mind, keeping her conscious of the still-manageable pressure in her belly, she nevertheless took a glass from amongst the drinks, knowing she would need some fluids to keep thirst at bay.
She hovered about the table for a while, not quite sure what to do with herself, and worked her way through her samples; most of them were delicious, and even those she disliked were pleasingly novel. She overheard hushed but gleeful gossip of some faux pas committed by somebody she’d never heard of, and was briefly invited in to a conversation that amounted to everybody bragging about their outfits. She held their interest briefly due to her “mysterious” tailor, but then quickly lost it when she proved neither willing to be prodded into revealing her secrets nor interested in their game of verbal oneupsmanship, and so found herself quietly pushed out of the conversation until she simply took her leave and left with it.
Even trying to nurse her drink, between the talking and the food she found herself emptying first one glass and then a second, to the increasing discomfort of her bladder. Just as she was picking up her third, plate once again filled with her favorites so far and others she hadn’t yet tried, a low, velvety voice addressed her, sending an immediate shiver down her spine. “Are you enjoying the festivities?”
Ella looked up like a startled rabbit, and immediately her heart seemed to stop in her chest; the speaker was none other than Princess Charming herself. She was, it turned out, even more radiant up close, especially when she was talking directly to Ella. Ella glanced about them; though the princess had managed to escape the crush of the crowd, many eyes were watching intently, clearly awaiting their chance to swoop in. “I - uh - yes, your majesty,” she stammered.
“‘Your highness’ is the proper address,” said the princess, and her smile widened as Ella blushed deeply; “but don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone. ‘Princess’ works too, if you prefer. I might even offer you ‘Charming’, if only the familiarity wouldn’t cause such a terrible scandal.”
Well, now Ella was blushing for another reason entirely. “My deepest apologies, your highness,” she said, lowering herself in a curtsey and wincing slightly as the motion disturbed the dull weight in her abdomen. “I’ve never had the honor before.”
“The honor you may have, but the pleasure is mine,” the princess replied. “I could hardly pass up a chance to talk with such a lovely guest - though it seems not everyone agrees with me, with you all alone here. Or is that by choice? I can leave you be, if you’d prefer.”
“No, it’s - I did join a conversation, but it was a little… dull, so I - left. And now I’m… here.” She gestured awkwardly with her plate.
“Well, it’s their loss; I dare hope I can do better.” She glanced down at Ella’s plate. “I gather the food is to your liking, at least? I’ll have to congratulate the chefs.”
“Yes, it’s - Everything is lovely, your highness,” said Ella.
“Oh, come now, you can be honest,” said the princess. “I won’t be offended, I promise you.”
“Well,” said Ella, caught between her instinct to remain polite and agreeable and her desire to do as Princess Charming bade her, “it’s just - it’s all a bit much, don’t you think?”
The princess burst into a beautiful, delighted laugh; Ella felt her mood instantly buoyed by the sound, a smile forming on her lips. “You know,” said she, “I’ve thought that exact thing! My father won’t hear it, I’m afraid - Grandmother didn’t name him Subtle.” She laughed again, and Ella with her. “Oh, but isn’t this an excellent sign! I do believe we’ll get on wonderfully.”
Princess Charming was as good as her word, and as good as her name. She was a fantastic conversationalist - entertaining, funny, and capable of keeping it moving smoothly even where Ella, still shy at the centre of so much attention, fumbled. Though she couldn’t give Ella her full attention - it would, after all, have been terribly rude to ignore all her other guests - she kept her by her side, managing to make it clear without words that she was the favored guest. Ella, for her part, found that, once her shyness had been worn away, the conversations flowed far more easily than her first attempt; it helped, too, that the other guests were now much less inclined to dismiss her.
There was only one problem, one Ella could not share with the princess. With all the unaccustomed talking, she frequently found her mouth becoming dry, forcing her to keep drinking. Several more glasses of fizzy liquid made their way down her throat to add to her burden, a servant practically replacing the glass in her very fingers the moment she emptied it. Eventually the princess noticed her trying to draw out her latest glass by taking only tiny sips; her excuse that she was starting to become tipsy was met with a request to take away the fizzy drink, replaced with a non-alcoholic fruit punch, and she had no choice but to keep drinking.
Ella’s situation was starting to become dire by the time the sun fully set. The nagging urge was unceasing now, a constant throb as the strained organ sought relief. She pressed her legs together beneath her dress to aid her tiring muscles, and had to fight all the harder when she needed to part them to move. Had she the option, she certainly would have begged the princess’ pardon to leave for the lavatory, but of course she did not, and so she held her tongue and kept her difficulties concealed.
Shortly after the clock rang out eleven times, just as the conversation found a natural lull, the band came to the end of their piece and started another. “Oh!” said the princess, glancing to that end of the room, “I love this song!” She clapped her hands together in delight and looked to Ella. “Milady, would you join me for a dance?”
Ella did not know how to dance, but an unaccustomed confidence told her that would not be a problem. She had no such reassurance, however, that she could avoid disgracing herself in so doing. She most definitely should not accept, she thought, even if it might mean disappointing the princess. “I would be delighted, your highness,” she said, because she was a besotted fool.
The princess beamed. “Wonderful!” She raised her voice to address the crowd, continuing, “thank you for coming, everyone, it has been a delight to see you all. I’m sorry to say I will be stepping away shortly; please, stay as long as you like and enjoy the festivities. They will continue until dawn.”
A disappointed susurration ran through the crowd. Ella’s own feelings were mixed; certainly she did not want so soon to leave the party, to return home to her life of servitude and never again speak to Princess Charming, but on the other hand, at least it meant she could make a graceful exit instead of bowing out early, leaving for the bathroom and never returning, or wetting herself in the middle of the ball.
She would simply have to make the best of the time she had left, she decided. The princess took her hand (setting a flutter in her chest) and led her to the dance floor; there she kept their hands clasped, turned to face Ella, and placed her hand at her waist. Ella moved her free arm hesitantly, and found it naturally falling into place; just as naturally, they took one step together, then two, and then they were dancing, moving about the floor as one while the music played on. Every step Ella took that parted her legs from one another wore away a little more at her control, the weight on her tired muscles inching ever closer to overwhelming them, but she held tight and pushed away the feeling. It could wait.
Occasionally, as she turned, she caught a glimpse of a familiar face in the crowd, her step-mother or a step-sister. They looked deeply frustrated, as they had ever since her step-sisters had made it close to Princess Charming and clearly made little impression, quickly being jostled aside by other guests. Ella had been right there beside her at the time - it had been an effort not to react, but they apparently failed to recognize her, not least because they barely took their eyes off the princess - and had taken a deep satisfaction in seeing them fail so entirely in their purpose here. It would certainly put all three of them in a foul mood for who knew how long, but Ella felt it was well worth it.
Eventually the song drew near to its end, and Ella decided to make a bold move. As the final notes began, she gave a mischievous smile, shifted her arm, and drew in close; the princess’ eyes widened in surprise, and at the dramatic final moment Ella swept her into a dip.
Murmuring sprang up around them immediately, and Ella ignored it - she was never going to meet any of these people again, not like this. The princess’ surprise gave way to a smile, looking up at Ella’s face above her. “Oh my,” she said, delighted. “This is a first; I’ve never been so thoroughly swept off my feet.” They hung there for a few seconds longer, as Ella fought the urge to do something bolder still; there were limits to what she could get away with, even anonymous as she was, and a kiss would be well beyond them. Finally the moment passed, and they stood, and parted, both flushed and still smiling.
And then, suddenly - “Ah!” gasped Ella, slamming her thighs together and clenching her muscles with all the strength she could muster, fighting a terrible wave of need as all the water in her body demanded its immediate release, as though all the feeling she’d let the dancing distract her from returned at once. She bent at the knees and waist, hands balling to fists against her legs, face screwed up with effort and breath tight in her chest - every part of her clenched at once.
And it still wasn’t enough. Slowly, agonizingly, a drop forced its way out of her, all the strength in her body unable to hold it inside, and became a tiny, burning-hot wet spot in her underwear that tingled for a moment before fading to normalcy.
It took mere seconds for the wave to pass, but each one seemed to last an hour. Unfolding a body that felt like a wrung-out towel, Ella realized the princess was looking at her with an odd expression. At least they were close together, and the crowd was held back by the edges of the dance floor; the partygoers had definitely seen her movement, but only the princess had had a clear sight of her.
“My goodness,” said the princess. “Are you alright? I can call someone to help, if you need-”
“No,” said Ella, too quickly, voice shaking. “Your highness. Thank you, but I’m quite fine, I assure you. My legs protested all this activity, but it’s passed now.” Another partial lie, such as she’d told the fairy godmother all those hours ago; the wave of irresistible urgency had subsided, but her bladder was no less full for it. That would not pass until she finally made it to a lavatory or, failing that, a secluded space where she could pull up her dress and -
Even the thought was almost enough to force another leak from her, and she made herself focus on the princess, who was about to speak again. “Ah, of course,” she said. “Actually, I was just about to go out onto the balcony, to sit for a while and enjoy the night before I retire. Would you care to join me? You can rest your legs, and I would love to keep your company a while longer.”
No, said Ella’s better judgement. She certainly could not join the princess on the balcony; she would be lucky if her fraying self-control could last even minutes more. The only possible thing she could do was to politely decline, find the nearest restroom with all due haste, and sneak out of the castle when she was done.
“I would be delighted,” said Ella.
A strand of hair escaped the hold of the styling, drifting down to hang at the side of her face.
A servant opened the large glass doors ahead of them, and Ella followed Princess Charming out onto the balcony. Her dress was warm where it covered her, but her arms, neck, and head were exposed, and the bite of the night air sent a shiver down her spine and into her bladder. She all but collapsed into one of the chairs set out for them, freeing her legs to twist together beneath her dress and very slightly lessen the immediacy of her impending disaster; the princess sat down more calmly beside her.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” said the princess, looking out at the starry sky hanging over the lavish castle gardens, all in the stark light of the full moon.
Ella was not as able to appreciate the sight as she might otherwise have been, but even so she couldn’t deny the princess’ words. “It is.”
Behind them, the doors clicked open again; another servant emerged and placed a half-empty pitcher of fruit punch on the little table situated between their chairs, followed by two glasses. The princess thanked him politely, and he bowed and returned inside.
Then she picked up the pitcher and a glass to pour herself a drink. The sound of the punch splashing caused Ella’s desperation to surge again; she jerked forward in her seat and tightly gripped the sides of the seat rather than let her hands do what they naturally wished, which was to bury themselves between her legs in hopes of physically holding herself closed. Perhaps, if she had allowed herself that, she would have held firm for the moment, but instead another drop escaped her, and with it a little more of the magic.
“Milady,” said the princess, and Ella’s gaze snapped to her, “are you quite - should I call you an escort to the facilities? You -”
“I’m fine,” said Ella, quite implausibly.
The princess continued over her, ignoring the interruption. “- needn’t endure on my account, if such was your concern; I would be happy to wait for you.”
“I don’t need it, your highness,” she said more firmly. “Please, put it from your mind and let us enjoy our time together.”
“…If you’re certain,” said the princess, skepticism and something Ella couldn’t identify mingling on her face for a moment before giving way to a smile. “And I told you already, I won’t hold you to formality. Indeed, we’re all alone now; you can call me by name and nobody will be any the wiser.”
Ella blushed, flustered by the implied intimacy. “Yes, your - Ch - Princess Charming,” she stuttered, unable to bring herself to be so familiar and meeting the princess halfway.
Princess Charming giggled. “Well, that will do,” she said. “So, milady, do tell me a little about yourself. Do you have a pastime you enjoy?”
Ella and the princess whiled away the night together, the conversation flowing between them. She had to avoid talking about herself too much, lest she give away that she was only in the most technical sense a noblewoman, but she was able to deflect and change the subject with unexpected ease; she suspected the magic was helping. Their time together set a smile on her face and a heat in her chest that seemed to bleed out through her limbs, making her feel warm even in the night air.
All the while, though, her time was running out, and she knew it full well. An ocean sat between her legs, crashing against her weakening resistance with all its force. She ached for relief, the dual burning of overstretched and overtired muscles ravaging her, and was very aware that she could simply choose to take it at any point.
The princess kept giving her sidelong looks, clearly aware of her plight but declining to push her on it. Ella half-wished she would; she suspected that she would give in.
Despite the knot of her legs - crossed over one another beneath her dress not once but twice - the prior slips in her control were not the last. Every new cramp and spasm squeezed a little more out to dampen her underwear, the fabric clinging cold and wet to her skin; and worse, they were becoming more severe, every leak a little harder to stop than the last, a little slower.
And, of course, every one sapped a little more of the magic from her. She could feel it happening; little things, barely noticeable, slowly building up to some catastrophic faux pas. Her hairstyle continued to unravel, her makeup stiffened and cracked on her face; decorative elements on her dress began to fray and unravel. Once, she lifted an arm and felt stitches tearing; thereafter she tried to keep that arm still.
It was to the princess’ credit that she was willing and able to keep the conversation going, even as Ella’s ability to participate stretched thinner and thinner. It was becoming impossible to think of anything else, desperation filling all the space in her head, as though she had run out of space in her bladder and started filling up her skull instead.
But eventually, even Princess Charming reached the limits of her charm. Ella had barely spoken a word in some minutes, her replies dwindling to single syllables and grunts and vague noises, and the princess came to the end of a sentence and fell silent. Seconds passed while confusion slowly penetrated Ella’s thoughts; she turned to look at the princess in confusion, meeting eyes full of confusion and that same unknown something from before.
“Oh, dear,” said the princess, and reached out to Ella, leaning over in her chair. “You’ve got…” her fingers gently brushed the side of Ella’s face, taking up the hairs that had come loose and tucking them up behind her ear. “There,” she said, her voice tender, gentle. She maintained the tone as she continued, as though trying not to spook a skittish animal. “Milady, please, I can see how you’re suffering. I beg of you, leave me and take your relief; the pleasure of your company is not worth your pain.”
It was the sensible decision, Ella knew, but there was little room left in her head for sense. She opened her mouth with no idea what she would say. “You aren’t suffering,” was what fell out, a petulant retort - or perhaps a plea, as she continued, “You didn’t leave the ball in all the time I’ve been here, and you had more to drink than I - how are you so composed, and I so weak?”
“It is not your weakness,” the princess told her firmly. “As princess, I am expected to remain composed regardless of circumstance. Many a dull audience did I sit through in my childhood, learning to conceal my boredom; this I began to practice on my own initiative, some years later. By now, I suspect, I could hold my waters ‘til I died of it and still give no sign.”
Whatever Ella might have said to that, she did not get the chance. Another desperate cramp wracked her body, as they had been doing since coming outside - but this one made all the rest feel feeble by comparison. Her muscles failed her instantly, urine not leaking from her but gushing uncontrolled; she made a hideous noise and lurched forward in her seat, pressing her hands between her legs as hard as her dress allowed for even the slightest extra stopping power.
The handful of seconds before she stemmed the flow were the longest of her life, and when she did it was only by the barest of margins - in fact, it was not wholly accurate to say she did stop it, as tiny drops continued to leak from her like a dripping faucet. This was it; she was at the limit of her control.
“You’re right,” she sobbed, “I must have relief, I can’t hold it any longer. I’m so sorry, your highness, I need - please -”
“No, shh, you need not apologize,” said the princess soothingly. “Come, follow me, I’ll lead you to the lavatory-”
“I can’t!” Ella cried. “I’ll never make it - if I even stand it’s going to come out!”
“My goodness,” the princess murmured. “I ought to have spoken up earlier, if only I had realized it was this dire. If you truly cannot last, perhaps you should simply let go; I promise I will think no less of you.”
“No!” The idea was tempting, near-irresistible, but as long as Ella had any strength left in her she knew she couldn’t do it. The indignity of wetting herself in front of the princess aside - “Everyone would see.” Not only through the windows as it puddled beneath her, but when she then had to run through the room in a soaked dress. “There has to be something else, anything.”
“I don’t know if there is.” The princess glanced about herself, worry writ on her face. “I could send a servant to fetch something for you to use, but that would take too long. I don’t think - oh!” Ella’s gaze snapped to the princess, heart lurching with hope at the realization in her tone, and followed her gaze to - “The pitcher! You can lift the front of your dress to hold it in place, your body and the chair will block it from view! I can have it disposed of later with the utmost discretion, milady, nobody will ever know.”
Pissing herself in a pitcher of fruit punch in front of the princess was still a humiliation Ella could never have imagined, but at this stage it seemed all other options were worse. “Okay,” she decided. “Please, yes, that.”
“Lift your dress now,” the princess said urgently. “Then you can go as soon as I hand it to you, instead of fumbling one-handed.”
With a desperate wordless sound, Ella pulled her hands from between her legs, the continuous leaking immediately becoming worse. Unable to bend to reach the hem of her dress, she gripped it at the knee and slid it up until the bottom was in reach, then hiked it up all the way, exposing the entire front of her below the ribcage to the princess’ eyes and the cold air.
She thrust out a shaking hand towards the princess, and was not immediately met with the handle of the pitcher.
“My goodness,” said the princess, surprised. “Is that all your bladder? It’s even bigger than mine!”
Ella looked over to her in confusion, and then down at her own stomach where the princess was looking, and instantly understood her surprise. Her stomach, normally flat, was swollen out as though she had swallowed a pumpkin whole - and if that pumpkin had then expanded into a carriage, it would almost match how it felt inside her. “Please,” she groaned.
“Oh! I’m sorry, here -” The princess snapped out of her distraction and moved to proffer the pitcher, but then abruptly stopped again and pulled it back. “Wait -”
“Why,” she cried. She was so full, more desperately full than she had ever thought she could be; her body sang with pain from waist to groin and only by the barest thread of self-control was she keeping her unstoppable release slowed. How could the princess deny her now? Did she mean to torture her?
“Just a moment longer, I’m so sorry,” said the princess, grabbing her glass and, to Ella’s horror, pouring punch into it. “I fear you will overflow the pitcher,” she explained as Ella hunched into herself and tried and failed to block out the sounds. “I’ll empty it -” she interrupted herself to raise the full glass to her lips, gulping it down in a matter of seconds that felt like an eternity. “- as fast as I can,” she gasped, hurrying to pour another, “just be strong a few moments more -” she downed that glass too, panting too heavily to speak as she poured the third. There was still more punch in the jug than the glass could hold; the princess filled it to the top and kept pouring, spilling the rest onto herself until it was empty.
She thrust the pitcher wordlessly at Ella, who desperately grabbed it, tugging on the princess’ hand as she tried to let go. Ella shoved it beneath the dress still held up in a white-knuckled grip, pressed its lip to her sodden underwear without even a thought of pulling it clear, and instantly, completely lost control.
The sheer relief of relaxing all the muscles she had held tense almost knocked her over with sudden lightness; let out an involuntary moan and swayed in place, having to catch herself before she toppled over. Urine shot from her with tremendous force, the sound of it spraying against the glass of the pitcher deafening in the quiet of the night. The bulge in her stomach deflated slowly, approaching its normal flat shape.
As the level of yellow liquid drew higher, Ella realized that holding the pitcher at an angle meant it would overflow more quickly. Careful to keep it pressed against her - she could not have stopped if she had tried - she shifted forward in her chair, until she was perched on the very edge, hanging out off the front so that she could hold it upright instead.
In this new position her stream seemed to come even harder. The jug filled closer and closer to the rim, and she began to worry that even upright it wouldn’t hold all that she held. Finally, though, her release slowed to a more casual intensity, and then to a trickle, and finally she was empty and the jug was filled almost perfectly to capacity by pale yellow urine sparkling with, if one looked closely, a faint golden glitter that faded from view in seconds.
In the distance, the clock chimed twelve.
“I’m sorry,” Ella murmured.
The princess, when she turned her head to look, was staring at her, her mouth hanging slightly open; her face showed pity, astonishment, and that thing Ella still couldn’t identify. After a moment her mouth snapped closed as she visibly collected herself. “No,” she said, “you needn’t be. I’m only glad you feel better, now.”
“No,” Ella said, tears welling up in her eyes. “I am sorry. For… that - the indignity - and for this.”
And she stood on trembling legs, stepped carefully over the jug she had set down on the floor, turned, and ran.
The glass doors opened to a hard shove. A hubbub stirred amongst the crowd as she ran through, hair slipping loose as she went. Stitches tore in her dress as she pulled the door open, and halfway down the hall she nearly fell headlong as the heel snapped off one of her shoes. She slowed long enough to slam the other foot down hard, snapping that heel too, then bolted for the exit.
The carriage, of course, would have long since reverted to a pumpkin before she could wait for the mouse-that-was-no-longer-a-chauffeur to bring it to her. Her dress falling apart around her, shedding stitches and flakes of makeup, she fled out into the streets.
Over two months later, Ella’s step-mother and step-sisters were still in a foul mood.
The princess’ search for a bride had been halted. She had - reading between the lines of invectives and indignant offense - given a perfectly polite goodbye to everyone at the party, but had not chosen a suitor from among the guests. The kingdom was abuzz with talk of the mysterious woman who nobody recognized, who had so captured the heart of the princess before fleeing into the night.
There was a reward for anyone who could bring her news. Ella supposed it would go unclaimed.
The fact that she had not terribly offended Princess Charming was a relief, even if it did tempt her to go back to the castle and reveal herself. Surely the princess would never want her as she truly was, the grubby and soot-stained servant Cinder-Ella. It would have to remain a pleasant fantasy, nice to imagine but impossible in reality, just like the thought she couldn’t shake, that in hindsight she knew what that expression had been on the princess’ face.
It was in this fantasy she was immersed, distracting herself from the tedium of her chores, when her step-mother stormed into the room. “You,” her step-mother barked. “Stop what you’re doing, don’t make any noise, and stay here. Do not enter the front room; her highness the princess has graced us with her presence and we will not sully her with sight of you. Do you understand me, girl?”
“Yes, step-mother,” said Ella, her heart racing suddenly in her chest. The princess was here! Had she figured out who Ella was, somehow? No, of course not, she would have asked for her if that were so. More likely she was visiting her guests in person, perhaps looking for information, perhaps for some royal purpose.
Ella rarely disobeyed a command, but as soon as her step-mother left - rather, as soon as it was clear she would not return - she snuck silently out of her room, through the kitchen, and into the hallway, coming to stand next to the door to the front room. She made no move to enter, just stood and listened.
“…the delay, your highness,” her step-mother was saying, simpering and sweet. “Here are my two lovely daughters, whom you doubtless remember from your magnificent ball, before that… enigmatic woman joined the festivities. And to what do we owe the honor of your presence, if I may ask?”
“Ah, precisely to that enigmatic woman,” said the princess. Ella’s stomach flipped over inside her at the sound of her voice; it was as lovely as she remembered, and just as expressive, the little smile on the princess’ face clear in her mind’s eye. “It seems nobody knows who she was, and so I have begun to search for her myself. Fortunately, I have a single lead.”
There was a brief pause before her step-mother spoke again, sounding confused. “A pitcher, your highness?”
Ella flushed with embarrassment. In the room, the princess replied, “Indeed. This pitcher is my test; if need be I can visit every woman in the town, and my hand in marriage to the one who can fill it.”
“That’s all?” her step-mother asked. “They need merely fill a jug? Seems simple enough. Girls?”
“If it please your highness, I could make a number of drinks,” said the elder step-sister. “Lemonade, perhaps, or sweet tea - maybe a cocktail, if you’d rather something stronger?”
“I believe those pitchers held fruit punch at the ball,” said the younger. “Is that the answer?”
“I’m afraid not,” said the princess. “Is there anyone else present to ask? If not, I will see myself out, with apologies for taking up your time.”
“No,” said Ella’s step-mother in a tone she recognized as cold fury. “But-”
Ella made a decision, and stepped into the room before she could talk herself out of it. “I believe I know, your highness.”
All eyes in the room turned to her. “What do you think you’re doing, Cinder-Ella?” the younger step-sister sneered, while the elder hissed, “How dare you speak to the princess!”
“Girls!” snapped her step-mother, causing them to meekly subside. “My apologies, your highness, she’s just a servant. I didn’t think her worth mentioning; obviously, she couldn’t have been at your ball.”
The princess looked Ella over; their eyes met, and hers widened in recognition. “Could it be?” she murmured.
“Princess Charming,” said Ella with a smile, lowering herself in a curtsey as her step-sisters gasped in indignation. “If you’ll join me in the kitchen, I can fill it as you’d like.”
Ella’s step-mother took a furious step toward her, raising a hand. “Guards,” said the princess, stopping her in her tracks, “please stay here and ensure we are not followed.” And then, to Ella again, “After you, milady.”
The two large, uniformed men behind her loomed obediently, one moving to block the doorway behind the princess as Ella led her to the kitchen. As soon as the door closed behind them, the princess tossed the pitcher aside on the nearest surface, surged towards Ella, and clasped her hands over her forearms, sliding down them to take her hands. “Is it really you?” she asked wonderingly, staring into Ella’s eyes.
“It is, your highness,” said Ella. “My apologies once more for leaving you like that, and for the embarrassing display -”
She was cut off as the princess threw her arms around her in a hug, heedless of the soot and dirt no doubt besmirching her expensive clothes. “How?” she asked from the vicinity of Ella’s shoulder. “If you’re a servant - those women did not decorate you, clearly; how were you at the ball?”
“It is a long and fantastical story,” said Ella. “One might even call it magical.”
“I see,” said the princess, releasing her and taking her hands again. “Is that fantastical story also why I never thought to ask your name?”
“Most likely,” she said. “But with my secret known, I can tell you now, my name is Ella. Cinder-Ella, to my step-mother and step-sisters, because, well…” she gave a wry smile and glanced down at herself.
“Hm.” The princess’ mouth tightened to a thin line, expression darkening. “Well, you need not answer to that any longer. If you so wish, I will take you with me this very day, and you may never set foot here again.”
“I would be delighted, your highness,” said Ella, a smile spreading across her face. And then, again before she could lose her nerve, she continued, “But should I not first prove I am who you came here looking for?”
“I believe you,” said the princess. “You have changed much, but looking into your eyes, I could not mistake you - and in any case, you clearly know me, or else are an excellent bluff.”
Ella’s heart pounded in her chest. She thought she had interpreted this correctly, but if she had made a mistake, she could be about to humiliate herself again - deliberately, this time. Surely then Princess Charming would change her mind, leave Ella here and find someone of proper dignity.
“Even so,” she said, allowing a mischievous edge into her smile. “You said the pitcher was the test. I would hate to make a liar of you; it is only right that I prove myself, that you may watch.”
The princess’ face moved through confusion and then understanding before reaching the enjoyment, the desire, Ella had only recognized in hindsight. “You make a compelling case,” she said, and stepped away from Ella to pick up the pitcher. “Very well, then. Show me.”
Ella took it from her, slipped down her old trousers, and positioned it between her legs. She met the princess’ eyes, and gave an exaggerated sigh as she relieved herself once again.
“I should warn you,” she said, blushing slightly as she spoke over the sound of her own stream, “there will not be as much as there was at the ball. I was truly at my wits’ end that night.”
“Of course,” agreed the princess, her gaze fixed upon the space between Ella’s legs. “There will be time enough in the future for that, if you so decide.”
“Perhaps I will,” said Ella, still peeing. When her stream tapered off, the pitcher was only two-thirds full, though the princess hardly seemed disappointed. “I didn’t think this through,” she realized, suddenly finding herself stuck in the kitchen with a jug of urine. “Do you have anything with which I might clean myself?”
“Oh! Yes, I have a handkerchief.”
The princess withdrew the cloth from somewhere in her outfit and handed it to Ella. Ella considered asking if she would like to do it, but decided that even by the standards of what she had just done that would be too bold, too fast; instead she simply took it in her free hand and wiped herself dry. The cloth she threw in the garbage, and as they clearly could not take the pitcher with them still full, she opted to empty it down the sink, rinsing it out thoroughly.
And, after making sure she was presentable, the princess took her hand, and together they walked out of the house in which Ella had served for so many years, never to return.