By: Carla Bandeira
This is a piece of fluff I wrote to commemorate the opening of my webpage. Nothing here is really mine- Paramount owns the Voyager people, but they don't own Cinderella (Thank God) and they don't really own this piece of fiction, either. Since I'm not making any money off of this, they shouldn't care, anyway.
Once upon a time, far, far away, in the kingdom of Voyager of the Delta Quadrant, lived a beautiful girl named Cinderella. Though beautiful, Cinderella was afflicted with a particularly rancid streak of bad luck, where her mother was killed in an unexplainable subspace anomaly and her father abandoned her, leaving her with her rather sadistic stepmother, Seska, and her three stepsisters—Annika and the twins, Meghan Delaney and Jenny Delaney—who weren’t exactly sadistic or mean, but simply misguided. So, poor Cinderella was stuck becoming maid, servant, and all-around slave to her step family, still keeping up her cheerful disposition and only killing annoying little ensigns who got in her way.
And thus, this is how our bumpy-headed heroine found herself in the local marketplace, carrying enough packages to fill a cargo bay to maximum capacity, and watching her three stepsisters squabbling over a dress. "It’s the perfect color for me," Meghan proclaimed, holding the dress up to her small frame. "It would never suit either of you."
Jenny tore the dress out of her sister’s hands. "What the h-e-double hockey sticks are you talking about? We look exactly alike. Anyway, it would match my new shoes better."
Annika remained ram-rod straight, which was not a surprise, considering the torture-weapon corset she wore under her skin-tight dress, which was quite a feat, since spandex had yet to be invented. "Fashion is irrelevant, matching is irrelevant." Her face then softened. "However, the color of that dress is acceptable for me." She then ticked her head up and gave her sisters a Borg death glare. "Resistance is futile. That dress will be assimilated."
Motherly instinct and good hearing brought Seska to where her daughters were arguing before war broke out. She quickly turned on Cinderella. "Now look what you’ve done, Cinderella. You know your sisters aren’t allowed to get too excited."
"But—" Cinderella began.
Seska shut her up with her own version of Annika’s death glare. "But nothing. Now, go see to our groceries, you lazy girl, while I deal with the mess you made here."
Cinderella growled slightly, but went on her errand, balancing the packages like a juggler while trying to walk in her floor-length, ridiculous excuse for a skirt. Balancing, that is, until one of the royal servants ran straight into her, toppling her over, then continuing with nary a "sorry". "Royal pto’Q," she said under her breath as she bent down to retrieve her myriad of packages.
Somebody handed her a hat box. "Those royals run all over you," came the voice belonging to that someone.
"Damn right they do—" Cinderella looked up to meet a pair of the most beautiful warp-core blue eyes she had ever seen. She quickly looked down. "Of course, they have very important errands to tend to, I’m sure." Once she had gathered all of her packages, the blue-eyed stranger helped her up, his hand lingering on hers a moment longer than necessary. Cinderella pulled away, keeping her eyes down. "Thank you very much for your help. I should go now." And she started to walk quickly away.
He was persistent, though, bounding up alongside her. "You didn’t tell me your name."
Cinderella didn’t stop walking, but she couldn’t help but admire the lithe form beside her. He was dressed as a peasant, but she didn’t recognize him. "Cinderella," she said softly.
He looked like he was rolling the name around in his mind. "I like it," he said frankly. "It’s a bit unusual, though."
"Oh, it’s not my real name," Cinderella told him. "I like to sit by the fire and my face gets all covered in cinders, so they nicknamed me Cinderella—and it’s kind of stuck to me now." Besides, she added silently, her real name, B’Elanna, brought back too many memories of happy times. She then looked up at her companion. "And what about you? What’s your name?"
He opened his mouth to answer when her stepmother’s voice rang across the square. "Cinderella! Get your lazy butt here now!"
Cinderella cringed. "I have to go."
"I hope to see you again," he called after her.
Cinderella paused, not echoing his sentiment, but knowing she agreed. But her reverie was broken by a chorus of discordant voices. "Cinderella!"
"Sir, your parents want to see you." Tom frowned as he changed back into his court outfit—the tone of his manservant’s voice didn’t sound too positive.
Tom adjusted the cuffs on his shirt. "How many times do I have to tell you, Harry, not to call me sir?"
Harry poked his head into the room, looking flustered. "It’s not proper, sir, It’s not… regulation." He frowned when disapproval at the peasant clothes laying on the back of a chair. "So is going out into the kingdom dressed like that."
Tom headed out towards the palace throne room. "I can take care of myself, Harry. So, what do my parents want to lecture me about now?"
"I’m not sure, exactly, but I overheard your mother humming lullabies."
Tom stopped short. "No, oh God, no. Not that again." He was too far ahead to turn back, so he stepped fully into the throne room.
Queen Kathryn looked up from her knitting. "Tommy, dear, good morning." She looked radiantly regal, with her copper tinted hair arranged carefully around a gold comb.
Tom kept his expression neutral. "I understand you wanted to see me, mother?"
Kathryn smiled regally. "Dear, you father and I have decided to throw a ball in your name."
"Not again," Tom complained. "Honestly, mother, a ball’s not necessary."
His father, King Chakotay, saw the need for his spiritualistic guiding advice. "Oh, but it is. We’re getting along in age, son, and we need you to produce a heir. We need to know that the kingdom will be in good hands."
"And for that, you need to find a wife," Kathryn piped in. Oh, I’m sure you’ll find someone to your liking—we’re inviting every eligible maiden in the kingdom to come."
Tom frowned at his mother. "But I want to marry out of love, not out of obligation. Can’t I do this my own way?"
"You `own way’ is ineffective," Chakotay intoned. "And while you’re trying to find `true love’ by bedding every maiden in the Quadrant, we’re getting older. The ball will go on. Understood?"
Tom frowned, resigned. "Understood."
Cinderella was scrubbing floors and going over basic warp recalibration equations when a chime came at the door. Without waiting for the inevitable "Cinderella!", she got up and answered the door to find a dour looking man with pointed ears in royal clothing. "Are there any unmarried ladies in this household?" he asked.
"Depends on your definition of ladies," Cinderella answered with a grin, which the page didn’t return.
Seska appeared at the top of the stairway at that moment, just in time to miss her comment. "Oh, the palace! How can we help you, sir?" she asked sweetly.
The page, Tuvok, turned on his padd and read aloud from it, in a monotone. "A palace proclamation. A ball is being held for Prince Thomas Eugene James Tiberius Jean-Luc Spock William Thomas…"
"Thomas?" Seska and Cinderella said in chorus.
The page shrugged and continued. "Robert Patrick Leonard Jonothan Barrett Roddenberry Paris Janeway Chakotay, heir to the kingdom of Voyager, son of Queen Kathryn Uhura Deanna Marina Beverly Gates Majel Barrett Roddenberry Paris Janeway of Starfleet and king Noothername Chakotay of Maquis, grandson of…"
Seska cut him off quickly. "Whatever. Get to the proclamation."
Tuvok frowned, then scrolled down, and scrolled down, and scrolled and scrolled until… "All eligible maidens in the kingdom are invited. Signed Queen Kathryn Uhura…"
"Good. Thank you," Seska said, slamming the door in his face. She then clapped her hands almost gleefully. "Girls, something wonderful has happened!"
Meghan, Jenny, and Annika came rushing in from their rooms (well, not Annika, technically, since she came rushing from her regeneration alcove in the storage room) and came to a somewhat undignified stop in front of Seska. "Yes mother?" Jenny asked sweetly.
Seska shoved Cinderella over as she walked up to her three daughters. "The prince is holding a ball—that means he’s looking for a wife. And we are invited." The three girls squealed and began talking amongst themselves.
Cinderella frowned. "Actually, all elig-"
She was cut off by Seska’s voice. "I’m sure one of you will catch the prince’s eye. And when you do marry the prince, I’ll enter the palace in disguise, endear myself to the King, and then, when they least suspect it, overthrow the throne and have absolute power."
The four girls stared at Seska with eyes wider than Anime characters, and Seska caught herself. "Sorry, wrong plot." In order to break the silence, she kicked over a bucket of water. "Cinderella, you clumsy girl, look what you’ve done! Clean it up now."
Sound returned as the three stepsisters complained about Cinderella while she mopped up the floor. Cinderella pasted a saccharine smile on her face to hide her true feelings. "Just think, one of you might become a princess."
The smile became genuine when the three of them began to fight amongst themselves again about who would be princess.
As time for the ball neared, Cinderella couldn’t help but catch her stepfamily’s excitement as she bustled about, fixing dresses and running errands for them. Meghan and Jenny’s jewelry had to be laid out and Annika’s implants polished, the dresses ironed, hair curled, and the warp core had to be realigned, all in one afternoon, which kept Cinderella so busy that she thought she deserved a vacation. So, Cinderella approached her stepmother that afternoon to ask to go to the ball. "Stepmother, may I go to the ball? I’d very much like to go, just to see Meghan and Jenny and Annika dance with the prince. I promise to stay out of the way."
Seska looked on Cinderella with an almost gentle glare. "I’m sorry, dear, but you have so much to do here that I couldn’t possibly allow that. I’m sure the girls would be willing to tell you afterwards, however."
Cinderella tried not to frown or kill any little subordinates around her. "Of course. I’d like that." But as she went about the rest of the afternoon on her duties, she couldn’t help but wish she could go to the ball.
Now, Cinderella really didn’t like balls—she believed them to be a form of upper class posturing where one had to pretend she was enjoying her dance with perfect strangers, some absolute pigs. However, she wished she could go to this ball, if only to spite her stepmother. This wish became especially strong after she had seen her stepfamily off in a cloud of perfume, and was left alone to bemoan her fate.
"Oh, how I wish I could go to the ball!" Cinderella cried as she worked on a broken multiphasic phase inverter. She was even so depressed that beating on the mailman didn’t help cheer her up. So, she decided to put down the inverter and went to weed the leola root patch, one of her stress-relieving pastimes.
As she was bent over the patch, she heard a wind chime like sound and turned around to find a blue transporter beam appearing in the yard. It quickly faded to reveal an elfin-like woman with long, curly blonde hair, pointed ears, and a violet jumper. Cinderella fell into a fighting stance. "Who the heck are you?" She demanded.
The figure smiled an angelic smile. "I am Kes, your fairy godmother—actually, your substitute fairy godmother because your real godmother is busy. I usually do Tinkerbell, but I got a special dispensation for tonight," she explained.
Cinderella relaxed. "So, why are you here?"
Kes’ face took on a bright glow, though there was no light in the garden. "You said you wanted to go to the ball, right?"
"_You’re_ going to take me to the ball?" Cinderella asked incredulously, looking at the tiny figure before her.
"Yup." Kes pulled a wand out of nowhere and tapped it against her palm. "Now, let’s see, you’ll need a carriage…" She swung the wand around, tapped some commands into it and pointed it at a leola root. The root swelled and grew until it was carriage sized and the grew gilded wheels and a door. "And some horses…" The pet targs were transformed quickly enough into horses, "And a coachman." With a wave of her wand, a holographic man appeared.
He looked about, his bald spot shining in Kes’ light. "Please state the nature of the magical emergency."
Kes leaned over and whispered confidentially to Cinderella. "Our real coachman is on vacation, but this is our Emergency magical hologram. You can call him Doc." Aloud, she said, "I need you to take this young lady to the palace for the ball, Doc."
Doc nodded. "Then let’s get started. I haven’t got all night, Ms. Kes."
"Just one more thing, " Kes told him gently and she pointed the wand at Cinderella. "You need a dress."
With a quick wave of the wand, Cinderella was dressed in an exquisite blue gown that looked positively horrendous on her. Kes cursed in an unfairy-like gesture. "you know, this is much easier on blonde-haired, blue-eyed, anorexic cartoons." She then stood thinking for a moment before waving her wand again. The blue dress was replaced by an identical dress—this time in a shade of crimson that suited Cinderella perfectly. A crimson band held back Cinderella’s dark hair. "There, ready to go."
Cinderella held up the skirt of her gown to examine her shoes. "Glass slippers? That’s not very practical, is it?"
Kes shook her head. "That’s not real glass—it’s a clear, high polymer plastic resin with great impact resistance." She then looked at her chronometer. "Now, you’d better get going to the ball, because my magic will only last until twenty-four hundred hours."
As Cinderella got into the carriage, she cocked her head confusedly. "Why?"
The fairy godmother shrugged. "Because that’s when I evolve into a higher plane of existence far beyond your limited comprehension." At Cinderella’s completely lost look, Kes sighed. "Don’t strain yourself over it. Go, enjoy the ball." As the coach rolled away, Kes turned into a pixie and went off in search of Peter Pan.
Tom was bored. And tired. As mandated by his parents, he was to dance with every single one of the maidens in the room either until he found a wife or ran out of maidens. And so far, he had no luck. Sure, there were tons of beautiful maidens in the kingdom, but so far none of them was "the one" for him. He sighed.
His partner, a pretty brunette named Meghan (or was it Jenny? He had just finished dancing with her twin and couldn’t tell which was which) looked up at him. "Is everything okay, Prince Tom?"
Shook out of his reverie, Tom tried to focus on not falling over. "Uh, yes, Jenny."
Her green eyes flashed, but she corrected him sweetly. "Meghan, Prince."
"Yes, of course. I’m sorry."
"No problem." Meghan batted her eyelashes coyly. "You know, Prince, my family has this gondola. One day, if you’d like, we can go for a ride—maybe we can go with Jenny and your manservant—"
The music stopped and Tom was glad he was spared from answering her question. "Next!"
Meghan was replaced by her sister, Annika, whose silver dress was so tight that the eyes of every man in the room were nearly falling out of their heads. She narrowed her blue-eyed gaze at him. "It is imperative that you marry me."
Tom felt himself cringing. "Huh?"
Her glare softened. "Forgive me. I am… unaccustomed to human social graces. Though I do not find you particularly attractive, your power is somewhat appealing."
"Huh?" Somehow, Annika had the particularly unique gift of making people feel stupid around her, even people with much greater expertise and rank than she.
She was also gifted with a rather short attention span, and her glare wandered to focus on a figure across the room. "Who is that?" She asked in her monotone.
Tom followed her eyes. "Harry? He’s my manservant."
"He appears to be somewhat intriguing. Excuse me." Annika curtsied after breaking off the dance (which caused a medical emergency amongst most of the palace’s male population) and headed towards Harry in her "take no prisoners" stride. The command "Take off your clothes" could be heard halfway across the ballroom and Harry bolted like a rabbit, Annika following him.
Tom shook his head. That was just plain weird. He readied himself for another dance, but before another maiden could throw herself into his arms, a strange silence came over the room. He followed the eyes of the rest of the crowd to catch sight of the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Tom ignored his next dance partner and walked up to the stairway, taking that woman’s hand and bowing low over it. "Milady, may I have this dance?"
Cinderella’s eyes lingered on the prince’s face for a minute before nodding silently. He took her into his arms and they began their waltz. Tom caught her gaze. "You seem familiar. Have we met before?" When Cinderella shook her head, he pressed on. "At Sandrine’s or at the Resort?"
Cinderella dropped her gaze. "No." Suddenly, she was afraid to talk to him for fear of sounding too… belligerent. "I don’t… get out much."
"Hmm." Tom fell silent for a moment, and just savored the waltz. He noticed a sweet smell imbedded in her carefully coifed hair. "That’s a nice perfume you’re wearing." He said softly.
Cinderella frowned. "Actually, that’s plasma coolant."
"Oh." He then shut his eyes and guided her in an almost dizzying turn. "I don’t know how, but I feel like I’ve known you my entire life."
"Pig." Cinderella replied sweetly, and the prince’s heart skipped a beat. She then continued hesitantly. "This is a … nice… ball."
Tom answered just as hesitantly. "Yeah, it is pretty… nice. But honestly, I’m not a big fan of these things."
A huge smile lit up Cinderella’s features. "Thank God—neither am I," she said with a laugh. And finding that they were in total agreement, a very rare thing for the two of them, they continued dancing in quiet happiness.
The Prince and Cinderella danced dance after dance, until both were tired and decided to go for a walk in the garden. The Prince gently guided Cinderella over to a bench. "I barely know you…" he began, then seemed to change his approach. "You look…"
"Medieval," Cinderella finished for him.
He shook his head. "I was thinking more along the lines of smashing."
Cinderella dropped her dark eyes—suddenly, smoothing the wrinkles in her taffeta skirt seemed very interesting. "Thanks." She heard the music inside winding down. "It sounds like the ball is going to end soon."
"I’m glad the last thing I’ll see of the ball is you."
Their silence was interrupted by Harry running through the garden, clutching a teddy bear, Annika chasing after him. "I see how your pupils dilate when I enter the room," she was saying calmly. "Do you not wish to copulate?"
"Mommy!" Harry cried, and ran back towards the palace.
Tom shifted uncomfortably. "I should talk to him about how he shouldn’t encourage her like that."
Cinderella dropped her eyes (she was getting good at that). "Prince, I have something I have to tell you."
"Yes?" He asked dreamily, reaching up to smooth back one of her errant hairs.
"I—I love you." He stared at her, speechless. "Well, say something."
Tom stood and then broke into song, regaling Cinderella with an off-key rendition of, "Do I love you because you’re beautiful?". Cinderella waited patiently until he finished before saying, "but I don’t expect you to reciprocate—I mean, let’s just forget—"
"Shut up," the prince told her, before crushing her to him in a royal kiss.
The two of them were too busy getting to know each other to notice the coachman’s approach. When he cleared his throat, though, they quickly broke apart. Cinderella’s eyes widened. "Doc!"
Doc frowned upon them. "Need I remind you that it’s nearly midnight?" He then looked upon Tom with disdain. "The coach is ready." He then turned on his heels and left.
The clock started to chime midnight. "Damn, I hate it when he’s right!"
With a nip to his cheek, Cinderella gathered up her skirts and ran out of the garden, the prince chasing after her. "Wait, I don’t even know your name!"
Cinderella didn’t stop running, not even after she lost one of her shoes. "Damned low-quality fairy craftsmanship," she muttered, and cursed when her dress changed back to rags, her coach to a vegetable, and her coachman deactivated himself, leaving her to walk home cold and alone.
The prince bent over to pick up the high polymer plastic resin slipper and clutched it to his chest. "I will find you…" He then turned to Harry, who was running by out of breath, but showing no signs of stopping. "Harry, issue an edict. Whosoever fits this high polymer plastic resin slipper shall be my wife."
The only sound Tom could hear was a muffled assent as Annika phasered Harry down and dragged him with her into the garden. And he could have sworn he could hear Annika murmur, "Resistance is futile."
When Seska and her daughters returned home, Cinderella was too chirpy for Seska’s rather suspicious comfort, so Seska decided to lock Cinderella in the kitchen on the day of the Prince’s visit, just in case.
Of course, Seska knew none of her daughters was that mysterious beauty who had shown up at the ball, but if the prince was stupid enough to base his choice of a wife on shoe size, he would be stupid enough to accept one of her daughters,… Preferably Meghan, because Jenny seemed indifferent to him and Annika seemed to have her mind on another palace dweller, but any one of them would do.
So, when the palace testing group showed up, she put on a saccharine sweet smile and graciously invited them in, offering the prince a seat in her best chair. "Meghan, Jenny, Annika, get down here, now!" she yelled up to them, and they rushed into the room, curtseying sweetly to the prince.
Meghan tried to hold his gaze the longest. "It’s so nice to see you again, Prince Tom," she practically purred at him, before sitting down and presenting her bared foot to Harry.
Harry carefully slipped the shoe onto her foot, but it didn’t fit onto the back of her heel. "Damned swollen feet," Meghan said, trying to cram her heel into the shoe. "Dancing all night must have swollen them. But this is definitely my shoe!"
Tom shook his head and Harry wrenched the shoe away from her and moved over to Jenny. Harry stared at her foot for a moment and frowned. "This is ridiculous—the two of them have identical feel."
Jenny pulled the shoe from him and began trying to cram her foot into it. "Like hell—she’s got feet like an elephant."
When she was unsuccessful, Harry gave her a grin. "Apparently, so do you." He ducked just in time to miss her slap and moved over to Annika.
Annika smiled down at him. "I have done a number of calculations and though the probability of that item being my shoe is low, it is, however… acceptable." Harry slipped the shoe onto her foot and it fit, albeit somewhat snugly.
Tom winced. "That looks uncomfortable."
She leveled a Borg death glare at him. "Comfort is irrelevant."
Seska clapped happily. "I told you that it was one of my daughters!"
Annika tried to stand and, unaccustomed to wearing heels shorter than four inches, toppled over into Harry’s arms. "However, it does seem that balance _is_ relevant." Harry gently removed the slipper from her foot and placed it on a nearby ottoman.
Tom looked around the room before focusing on Seska. "Are there no other eligible maidens in this household?"
Seska scowled at him. "No."
A muffled cursing and banging from the kitchen door contradicted her. Tom’s eyes narrowed. "Then, who is that?"
Seska feigned remberance. "Oh, that? That’s just our kitchen maid—she’s nobody important. You’ll be wasting your time."
Tom narrowed his eyes. "I’ve got some to waste," he told her dryly, and motioned for the door to be opened—but it was unnecessary, as the door burst open and Cinderella came hurtling through.
She then meekly straightened her dress. "Uhm, can I try on the shoe?"
Prince Tom nodded and Harry headed towards the ottoman to retrieve the slipper, but before he could get to it, the ottoman and slipper went up in a puff of smoke. Seska gingerly dropped the phaser compression rifle she had been holding and smiled. "Oops. Who knew that old thing had that in it?"
Harry groaned. "Now what? How are we going to find her now?"
The Prince looked down at Cinderella, who had drawn a bat’lef and looked about ready to beat the life out of Seska. "With this." He pointed to the bite mark on his cheek. "Get Tuvok!"
Tuvok, the palace page/dentist, came into the room, carrying his dental bag. "You called, Your Highness?"
"Tuvok," Tom said, without looking away from Cinderella, "can you check these bite marks against her teeth?"
"Yes sir. This is a far more logical course of action than before." He held up a scanner to Cinderella’s teeth and, within a few minutes, had created a mold of her bite. "I can honestly say this bite matches her teeth."
A pixie-like voice filled the room, along with a bright light. "My gift to you…"
When the light died down, Cinderella was standing in the middle of the room, dressed in a stunning dark-blue gown. She quickly went up to the prince and kissed him soundly.
Prince Tom broke away after a minute, short of breath. "Cinderella, will you marry me?"
Cinderella smiled. "Pig," she whispered to him, before returning to the kiss.
Soon afterwards, the prince and Cinderella were married, along with Harry and Annika, and they all lived happily (though painfully) ever after.
That is, except for Seska, who was blown away by Queen Kathryn’s phaser compression rifle when she announced that she was pregnant with King Chakotay’s child.