Cinder-Colin (or: The Glass Loafer)
by Kip-chan

Once upon a time, there was a manor on a hill in the Canadian countryside. Living in the manor were two people, a woman and her son. The woman was a widow, her husband dead in a war before her son was even born. This son, Colin, had subsequently grown up as more of a gentle soul, having never really had much to do with other men and boys.

In due time, Colin's mother remarried. Colin's stepfather, Steve, had two children, Josie and Greg. Josie was the elder of the two, and had Greg on the shortest leash imaginable. Her dream career was dominatrix; she was starting her training early.

Shortly after the wedding, Colin's mother up and died, and Colin was very much alone in the world. Steve, being the husband, was legally the owner of Colin's mother's things, including the house. Colin would have found himself on the street if not for the stipulation in his mother's will that he not be turned out. Instead of living on the streets, however, he was put to work as a servant.

Thirty years later, things still weren't looking good for poor Colin. Neither Josie nor Greg had married, so they were still around to heckle him. He had gone mostly bald early in life, losing his hair due to job-induced stress. Once, a peasant girl had asked him to marry her, but she changed her mind upon seeing his family. Colin fully expected to die as he had lived, quietly and alone.

One sunny morning, Colin was scrubbing the marble floors in the front hall when the doorbell rang. Seeing as he was right there, he answered the door. "What can I do for you?" he asked the person on the front stoop.

"Good morning, sir," said the man. "I am Sir Brad of Sherwood, assistant to the prince. I have a proclamation here for Duke Stephen of Fry and his two offspring, Josie the Utterly Mad and Greg the Queer, as well as Master Colin de Mochrie. Might you find them and give this to them?"

Colin's eyes widened as he saw the very official-looking parchment scrolls. One was for Steve and his stepbrother and stepsister, but the other was for him! He could barely believe his luck. "I sure will," he said. "You're sure one of these is for me- er, Master de Mochrie?"

Brad raised an eyebrow but decided not to comment on the servant's word choice. "Says so right here on my list."

Colin beamed. "Thank you! I'll make sure they get delivered." He shut the door and leaned against it. The prince actually knew he existed! Maybe things would change for him at last.

He ran upstairs to the music room, where Josie and Greg were performing a hoedown about unladen swallows. "Excuse me," said Colin, "you have mail."

Both Josie and Greg stopped singing. "Oooh! What do we have?" asked Greg.

"One proclamation from His Highness, the prince," Colin announced. He handed one to Josie and kept the other tucked safely in his pocket. (It was a small scroll, all right?)

"Give it here," said Steve, rising from his chair to join the three at the door. "I'm docking 1000 points from each of you, by the way, for cuttin' off in the middle of the song."

"Awww," groaned Josie. "Just read the damn thing."

Steve unrolled the scroll. "It appears," said he, "that the prince is in need of a companion."

"A companion? Of what sort?" asked Greg.

"A lifemate," Steve said. "Apparently he has to have one in order to become king. He's having a royal ball, and he'll be picking one of the lucky attendees to marry him."

Greg swooned, and Josie kicked his left shin. Normally, that wouldn't be so remarkable, but in thirty years she'd gotten quite, er, dominating. Her style of clothing had changed accordingly; she refused to wear anything but high, black, steel-toed boots. Leather, naturally; nothing but the best for her. "And we're invited?" she asked.

"Well, of course you are," said Steve. "What's more, I'm invited as well."

Colin cleared his throat. "Excuse me, may I go too?"

All three looked at him. "You?" asked Steve.

"I've got an invitation, too," Colin revealed. "I'm still somewhat important, it seems."

Steve sighed. "Very well," he said. "If you finish all your chores and find something decent to wear, you can come too. Just stay out of the prince's way, you hear? I want my children - my pride and joy, respectively - to have a fair shot."

*Was that a backhanded compliment?* wondered Colin. Ah, well, there was no time for pondering; the ball was Thursday night at eight p.m. (EDT) and it was already Wednesday afternoon. With a smile on his face and a song in his heart ("Crack Whore Mom," if you're curious), he went on down the hall.

That night, Colin did everything he normally would have done the next day. This was a golden opportunity, not to be squandered! By midday Thursday, the house was squeaky clean, the animals were fed and comfortable, and even Josie was happy. She had a "guest" in the dungeon, but she promised not to mess it up too badly. There would be a minimum of blood stains on the walls this time. Colin finally had time to himself, to prepare for that night's ball. He had a nice, long bath, followed by a mud mask. He tried on his outfit for that night, a black suit and green silk tie; it still fit, and the moths hadn't turned it to cheesecloth, so that was all right. When it was time to leave the house, Colin strode downstairs confidently by way of the fire escape. (No need for the others to see him until he was good and ready.)

Josie was the first to see him. She nudged Greg and pointed with her riding crop at their stepbrother. "Look, Greg, would you believe it? He actually looks decent for once!"

"I think he's looked good in the past, too," Greg defended him. "Better than you, anyway." Josie was wearing a black leather halter top and short skirt, along with her trademark boots. She'd left her whip in the dungeon, but had refused to go out without some way to defend herself.

"Hey, Cinder-Colin!" shouted Josie. "Where's your broom?"

"I thought you were going to fly to the ball on it, so I left it outside your bedroom door," Colin retorted. "Good evening, by the way."

"You little - - !" Josie snarled at Colin and pounced on him, scratching and kicking. He fought back, but his suit suffered in the process thanks to Josie's sharp red nails. Amazingly, not a scratch adorned his face.

She stood back and surveyed her handiwork. "Oh," she breathed, "looks like you'll be staying home tonight." The jacket and pants were practically in shreds. "I'll think of you when I'm dancing with the prince!"

*No!* thought Colin. *She can't do this to me!* But she had, and now the rest of the family was getting into the carriage. They sped away, taking Colin's hopes of happiness with them. Defeated, he sat down on the front stoop and sighed. "Damn you," he muttered to nobody in particular. "I was looking forward to meeting that prince. Maybe he would have been kind to me. Maybe he would have said something nice about me, or at least refrained from insulting me too harshly." He laughed bitterly at himself and his predicament. "I guess I'll never know now, will I?"

"Maybe you will," someone said in the darkness of the night.

Colin's head jerked up. "Who's there?"

"I'm Drew," the voice said. Out of the night came two men, one with glasses and a few extra pounds, the other with no hair. "My friend is Clive. We're here to help."

"I'm Colin de Mochrie," Colin said. "I was a duke once, but then my mother married that git Fry and now I'm just his servant."

Drew shook his head. "This will never do," he said. "Colin, do you really want to go to that ball?"

Colin blinked a few times, staring at the two men before him. *Mine not to question...* He nodded, feeling a little bit of hope return.

"I think we can make your wish come true," Clive, the bald one, said. "Right?"

"Shouldn't be a problem," confirmed Drew.

"But how..." Colin wondered.

"We're your fairy godfathers!" Clive and Drew chorused. "Now, let's see..." Drew glanced across the road to the watermelon patch. "Colin, can you bring me one of those?"

Colin fetched the watermelon and set it at Drew's feet. He watched as Drew pointed his wand at it (no, not that wand; get your minds out of the gutter for a few minutes) and said a few magic words. The melon turned into a VW Bug before Colin's eyes. A few crickets became his attendants.

"You should be all set now," Clive said. "Off with you, then! You have to be home by midnight, remember that."

Colin looked down at his clothing. "Don't I need something to wear?"

"Oh, right," said Clive. "Our mistake. Hang on just a minute." Three minutes and fourteen waves of the wand later, Colin was wearing a white cambric shirt, white leather pants, and an ermine cape. The crowning glory was his footwear - a pair of glass loafers. "Is that better?"

"Much," replied Colin, his eyes shining. "Thank you so much! You don't know what this means to me."

"We have an idea, sort of," Drew said. "We were young once." They watched as their godson hopped into the Bug and sped off.

Clive dabbed at a tear in the corner of his eye. "So that's what my son grew up to be," he said. "I'm so proud... I only wish I'd been around more."

"It's okay," Drew said, comforting his companion. "Nothing you could have done would have changed things. Duke Fry would still have married your ex-wife, and she still would have died. Come now, let's go home. You don't want to miss the Thursday night movie." The spirits vanished into the night from whence they came, hoping there would be something good on TV.

~

Prince Ryan was bored. His father had pushed him into having this ball, but there was nobody interesting there at all. "BRAD!" he shouted. "Entertain me!"

"Not in front of the guests!" gasped Brad.

"Oh, never mind," sighed Ryan. "Why, oh why do I have to pick a spouse?"

"Be glad your father said it could be a man or a woman," Brad reminded him. "Most kingdoms have a strict 'opposite genders only' policy when it comes to royal marriages."

"True," said Ryan. "Ah, well. Might as well go out and mix with the people. I hope one of them has interesting shoes." He stood, stretching a little and nearly bumping his head on the light fixture just above the throne. "I will only marry someone with unusual shoes. It would help if they had a warm smile, sense of humor, and nice personality as well, but the shoes are going to be the deciding factor." He stared up at the ceiling. "Hey, if anyone's up there, please send me a husband or a wife who meets all those criteria. Pretty please?"

At that moment, Colin's Bug pulled into the parking lot. Fearing he was late, he dashed into the palace and was about to descend the stairs when the prince saw him.

"Stop!" called Ryan. "You, on the stairs! Yes, you!" Everyone in the room stopped what they were doing and turned to stare at Colin. This included his stepfather, brother, and sister, but they didn't recognize him at all. They weren't used to seeing their servant in anything but rags.

"Me?" asked Colin. "What have I done? I have an invitation!" He held up his hands defensively.

"I want you to dance with me," Ryan said, making his way through the crowd. Jogging up the stairs, he stood before the smaller man. "Will that be all right with you?"

Colin blushed. "I'd love to dance, Your Highness," he said, bowing.

Ryan took both of Colin's hands in his own. "Then let us dance!" he said. "Music, if you please!"

At the piano, the minstrel, Laura of the Hall, began playing a waltz. The prince and the servant danced down the stairs and around the ballroom, getting stares from everyone they passed. Neither of them noticed, of course; they were too busy gazing into each other's eyes. Colin, for his part, was completely taken by the prince. Nobody had ever showed him such kindness; well, nobody in the realm of the living. Those fairy godfathers were spirits. This man, heir to the throne and single to boot, was actually showing interest in him!

Ryan thought he had fallen in love as well. This stranger, despite his lack of hair, did indeed have a beautiful smile, a decent personality (okay, he was a bit shy) and great shoes. Ryan couldn't begin to imagine where the glass loafers had come from. *I must have the name of his shoemaker,* he thought. Colin seemed to be quite a graceful dancer; if he proved to be funny as well, Ryan would have no problem proposing at the end of the night.

Their dance came to an end after Laura played the same waltz for twenty minutes. "Do you want to go somewhere quieter?" asked Ryan. "There's a garden out back; we could take a look at it."

It was the oldest trick in the book. So old, in fact, that even Colin knew it when he heard it. He didn't want to upset the prince in any way, however, so he let himself be led away. "Nice night," he said as they emerged into the gardens.

The prince was walking ahead, eager to get back to his favorite place in the palace. "Isn't it beautiful?" agreed Ryan. "So, tell me about yourself. Who are you? Where do you come from?"

"I'm... nobody, really," said Colin. "I live in a manor on the outskirts of town. It's so nice there, all green in spring and white in winter. Your Highness would love it."

Ryan nodded; his green thumb was widely known in the kingdom. "Do you have a garden?"

"Yes, Your Highness," Colin said. "It's nowhere near as grand as this one, but it's pretty by itself."

"Call me Ryan," suggested the prince. "I hear 'Your Highness' from everyone else. It gets old after a while. Here, take my hand." Without waiting for some kind of consent, Ryan grabbed his companion's hand. "What about your family?"

"My parents are dead," Colin said. "I haven't married, and sometimes I wonder if I ever will. I live with my stepfather and his children."

Ryan could tell by the grimace on Colin's face that he didn't like the subject of family much. Remembering the question he'd had earlier, he pointed to Colin's feet. "Say, where'd you get those?"

"These shoes?" asked Colin. "My godfather gave them to me. They were a gift, made for tonight."

"How many fathers do you have, anyway?"

"You'd be surprised..."

They wandered through the garden, stopping at the more unusual flowers in the royal gardens. It really was a lovely night - the air was just cool enough to keep them comfortable, but not so cold that either one started shivering. The moon smiled down from her bed of star-flecked velvet. There was no sound but the distant din of the party and the voices of the wanderers.

No sound, that is, until the clock in town started chiming a warning: quarter to twelve, and nearly time for Colin to go home. *Midnight's that soon?* he wondered. *Oh, no! I was having so much fun, too.* It had been the best night of his life, but now it was over. "Ryan, I'm sorry, I've got to go," said Colin. "I, uh, have a curfew."

"You're at least 40," said Ryan. "How could you still have a curfew?"

"My stepfather's a controlling git, that's how," said Colin. "I'd love to stay here more than anything, but if I don't get home..." He pantomimed a lynching, and Ryan understood.

"That's all right, I guess. I don't want to get you in any trouble," the prince said. "Can I see you again sometime?"

"Sure," Colin said. "I'd like that a lot."

The gardens were very big; it took the better part of the remaining fifteen minutes to get out of them. Colin had barely gotten out of the palace when the bells rang again, this time heralding the arrival of the witching hour. "Oh, no," he muttered. The prince was still watching him. What now? *Run!* his instincts shouted, but his traitor heart insisted upon lingering. Shoving emotions aside, Colin obeyed his instincts and ran as fast as he could down the stairs.

Ryan watched him take off like a rocket at the stroke of midnight. "Wait!" he screamed. "Where are you going?" When his mysterious friend wouldn't turn around, he started running himself. Unfortunately, he couldn't keep the man from leaping into his Bug and speeding off. Cursing, he sat down on the steps, only to leap back up; there was something there already.

"A shoe?" wondered Ryan, lifting the object. Here was one of the man's glass loafers. "He'll miss this, won't he?" Cradling the shoe in his lap, he sighed. "I never even got his name."

~

The next morning, Colin opened his eyes and thought for a minute that the night before had been a dream. A very good dream, but a dream nonetheless. "Good morning, world," he said to the empty room. "Back to the routine, I suppose - drudgery punctuated by bouts of sleep and drinking myself into oblivion." Never mind that he didn't usually drink; more often than not, he felt like it. He tossed back the covers and put his feet on the stone floor. One landed silently, as usual, but one made a light noise.

"What the..." Colin stared at his feet. One of them still had a glass loafer upon it. "Could last night have been real?"

Looking around, he saw the ermine cape and the white cambric shirt sitting in the corner next to his shredded suit. So they had taken pity on him and left him a few gifts, hm? Being extremely careful, he removed the glass loafer and set it beneath his pillow. *So, I really met the prince! Amazing! He's just as kind as I thought I dreamed, and he talked to me. My God, I called the prince by his first name!*

Just to be sure he wasn't dreaming now, he pinched himself hard. It hurt like a bitch.

"Colin!" shrieked Josie, pounding on his door. "Quit lollygagging! Time for breakfast, and you need to serve it!"

"In a minute," he called, dressing in whatever he could grab. In his haste, he put on the shirt, along with the loafer and one of his other shoes. Dashing outside, he hurried to serve his family's breakfast.

He was in the middle of distributing the pancakes when the doorbell rang. Seeing that the rest of the family was already chowing down, he dropped the pancakes onto the table. He was about to go answer the door when Steve spoke up. "I'll get that," he said pleasantly. "You just keep working." Steve went to answer the door, and Colin shrugged. Any work that the others volunteered to do was theirs for the doing. It was just one less thing to bother with.

"Josie! Greg!" Steve called. "Get in here!" He sounded happy for once, something that prompted Colin to follow his stepsiblings into the front hall. There, holding the twin of the loafer on Colin's foot, stood the prince's footman.

"I have a proclamation from the prince," said Brad. "He wishes it to be known that he will marry the owner of the foot that this shoe fits onto. If there is no such person in this kingdom, then he will go to the next, and then the next, and then the next one after that."

"And if there's nobody in the world that can wear that shoe?" asked Steve.

"Well, then, the kingdom's screwed, isn't it?" Brad said. "Everyone has to try it on... well, I don't think YOU have to, sir," he amended, nodding at Steve. "But you two do."

Josie and Greg exchanged glances and squealed in delight. "Me first!" cried Josie. "Please!"

Brad shrugged and slipped the loafer onto the waiting foot. There was one little problem, though. "I think your foot's a bit small," he said. The shoe hung from Josie's delicate foot, which was better suited to boots with three-inch stiletto heels than a sensible loafer. "Next!"

Greg barely managed to fit the front of his foot in; the back would clearly be impossible. "Isn't there something you can do?" he wailed to his twin and his father. "Cut off a couple of inches, maybe?"

"What, of your foot?" asked Steve. "Are you mad?"

"YES!" yelled the other two.

Colin sighed. "Just do it already," he mumbled. "Let Greg be the lucky man, and then he can marry the prince and be out of my hair." The thought that today might be the last day he saw his stepbrother on a regular basis almost made up for the fact that he would lose any hope of ever seeing Prince Ryan again. *Ah, well. Such is life.*

"Shut up, Colin!" crowed Josie. "Go get the saw."

"Hold it," said Brad. "Who are you?" He squinted. "Damn, you look familiar."

"Me?" asked Colin. "I'm just a servant here. Nobody important at all! Really!" He held up his hands in an exact copy of the pose from the night before, and it all clicked in Brad's mind. The shirt... the lack of hair...it had to be the mysterious white-clad stranger that had so bewitched the prince!

"Wouldn't you like a shot at being the prince's beloved?" asked Brad. "If the shoe fits, you're out of here forever."

Colin gazed longingly at the shoe; he already knew it fit. What harm could it do to try the other one on? At the very worst, Steve would throw him out. Then he'd be free to seek his own fortune. He nodded. "I'll do it."

Brad's face lit up. "Wonderful, wonderful!" He began to walk across the hall to where Colin stood, but he didn't quite make it. Josie stuck out her foot and tripped Brad, causing him to fall flat on his face and drop the shoe on the marble tiles.

"Oh... shit..." Brad immediately curled himself into a little ball and began rocking back and forth. "He'll kill me," he moaned, over and over.

Colin shook his head. *People can be so idiotic sometimes,* he thought. He removed his own loafer and brought it over to Brad. Kneeling beside the footman, Colin tapped him on the shoulder. "Will this do?"

Brad stared in wonder at the shoe. "Where'd you get that?"

"That was my other shoe you broke," admitted Colin. "I would have said something earlier, but nobody would let me get a word in edgewise."

Brad grinned. "You've saved my hide!" He kissed the shoe. "Now, do you want to try it on? It's just a formality at this point - I'm 99% sure you're the one - but you never know."

Colin sat down next to Brad, put the shoe back on, and wiggled his foot in the air. "Satisfied?"

"More than that!" cried Brad. "Ecstatic! Overjoyed! Higher than a kite can fly!" Scrambling to his feet, he ran outside to the carriage where Ryan waited. "Your Highness!"

"What?" asked Ryan, bored with the whole hunt. He had spent the last few hours looking for his true love. "Another disappointment?"

"No!" said Brad. "It worked! My liege, I found him!"

"Fine, get in the carriage and- you what?" Ryan snapped to attention. "Where? Tell me!"

"He's inside," said Brad. "I thought I recognized him but I couldn't be sure until I saw him with the shoe. It fits! It really worked!"

Ryan left the carriage and nearly knocked poor Brad over in his rush to get inside. "My love!" he called, entering the manor. "Where are you? And will you please tell me your name?"

"Here I am, my lord," Colin said. "Master Colin de Mochrie, at your service."

Ryan dashed around the astonished trio in the middle of the hall and practically knocked Colin over, catching him up in the first hug he'd had since his mother's death. "It's you," he said, "it's really the same man from last night who loved gardening and had those great shoes."

"Same one," said Colin. "You're not disappointed at all?"

"Disappointed? Are you out of your mind?" Ryan's eyes widened at the very thought.

"I'm not really that noble at all," objected Colin.

"If these three jokers hadn't taken over your house, you'd be the duke instead of him," Ryan explained. "As it is, if you'll marry me, you'll have the title of grand duke. Unless, that is, you'd rather be the queen?"

Colin laughed. "Grand duke is fine with me, and of course I'll marry you!" He closed his eyes, committing the moment to memory. "I love you."

"I love you too," said the prince. "Come on, we've got a lot to do yet. There are people to meet, proclamations to write, arrangements to be made...oh! You have to meet my parents! I think you'll like my dad; he's got a great sense of humor. My mom's really nice too..." Ryan picked his prospective 'bride' up and carried him outside to the carriage.

"Is he always like this?" he asked Brad, seeing the footman waiting by the carriage door.

"Worse!" Brad said. "Much, much worse."

~

They were married on a sunny day in autumn, in the middle of the royal gardens. The leaves from the topiaries swirled around them in a mess of reds and golds. Both grooms wore white, having been chaste enough in the last forty-odd years to satisfy everyone's requirements.

As they said their vows, the fairy godfathers watched from the best seats in the house: the top of the fountain behind the priest. Nobody could see them, not even Colin. "Are you happy now?" Drew asked his mate. "They're in love, they're together, they're going to be that way for the rest of their lives."

"Well," Clive said, "I did want to see-"

Drew shook his head. "No. I refuse to do that."

"Drew...." Clive made puppy dog eyes at him in a desperate attempt to wear him down.

"No! I won't!" said Drew, very stubbornly. "Do you understand?"

"Just a few minutes?"

"NO! There is no way I will let you lurk in their bedroom tonight! Voyeur...you'll be lucky if I let you in ours."

"But Drew-!"

~

the end

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