Cinderella: A Retelling of an Old Classic

A Monarch's Temper - Chapter 18

"Sire! You must stand still please!" cried the aggravated tailor. "Your father will have my head if he hears how many times I have pricked you!"
"Oh!"

"You see?!?! Oh my nerves can't take this any longer! I am resigned....finished! My work as the royal tailor is over, finite, terminated! Mother said I should have been an architect and never have I ever for one moment agreed with her until now!" The frazzled looking man was throwing bolts of cloth with reckless abandon into a formerly empty trunk.

"Forgive me Master Tailor, I did not mean to make your job so difficult. My mind is on other things today. Please finish your work and I will make sure my father hears only the highest praise for your wonderful craftsmanship."

The thin man stopped and stared at Prince  Damon distrustfully. Sighing he turned back to his measurements. "I would never have been a decent architect anyway..."

Prince Damon stifled a grin. "Why ever not? I would have thought you could create many masterful designs."
"Masterful designs yes, but I have a gross aversion to heights. I would have died the first time climbing a ladder never mind a scaffolding." Master Tailor replied glumly.

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"Dearest please, you know you can't have everything!"
"I don't see why not? I am the king am I not? And as such the world is at my command is it not?" cried the irate monarch.

"no dear, it is not..."
"Hmph." was the only answer the patient queen received.

"Darling, you have to yet to tell me what is the matter? Our son has finally compromised his position! I should have thought you would be jumping with joy and instead I find you brooding this fine morning away."
"A king does not jump for joy..." the monarch replied morosely. "And there is always something to brood about, especially when it comes to your son."
"MY son? Tell me dearest, why is it that when MY son does something marvelous he is OUR son but when he vexes you he, without fail, becomes solely my offspring? I hardly think that fair..."
The king looked at his unflappable wife sitting serenely in a high backed chair embroidering some little trifle.

"Forgive me my dear, its just these ridiculous balls Damon insists on having. I am having the most awful time with them." he said wearily.

"I can't see why you should feel so. You aren't the one that has been organizing these extravaganzas, I have."
"Quite so, but you enjoy them so much. I can barely make heads or tails out of that guest list!"
"Is that what has you in such a mood? Well don't worry dear its quite simple. The royalty are at the top of the list, the nobility in the center and the gentry at the end along with several wealthy merchant men I couldn't bring myself to leave out."
"MERCHANT MEN?? You invited merchant men to these balls??!!"
"Oh yes, and their daughters of course."
The kind was very nearly in a state of apoplexy. "I won't have it!" he thundered as his wife sat quietly sewing all the while undisturbed. "I will not have my son marrying a merchants daughter!"
"Why ever not? What do you have against merchant's daughters? Their father's wealth and influence can certainly benefit the crown not to mention the connections he must have abroad."
"I don't care. He will not marry a merchant's daughter and that is final."
"You most certainly will care when our imports cease. Your favorite teas? Our silks and linens? All gone for the simple reason that our king neglected to invite them to, not one, not two, but three, grand royal functions."
Huffing and puffing the king went back to his seat. "He simply can't marry a commoner dear. He can't!"
"And why is that? I understand that he shouldn't marry someone illiterate or boorish, rude or crass but why shouldn't he marry a commoner? As long as she is of a good family and breeding I don't see the problem. Many of our merchant men are respectable and have good kindly daughters. As for myself I would much rather a good and wholesome young women to care for my grandchildren and son then a highborn socialite who cares nothing for anyone save herself."

For the first time during the conversation the queen raised her head and looked at her husband who was perched rather uncomfortably in the chair next to her. She spoke decisively and passionately and the kind knew that what she said was a very tender subject.

"But my dearest consider," the kind began but she set her sewing aside sharply and looked him straight in the eye.
"Darling I love you very much but you can be so very stuffy when it suits you. Please listen carefully, this kingdom has been our life ever since we ascended to the throne and we have done everything in our power to further its prosperity. We have both sacrificed many things for our country but I refuse to sacrifice my son to it as well. He deserves happiness at least in this one area. Damon is a good boy and he loves us dearly but he needs someone who loves him with her whole heart to watch after him when he is king. You know Damon," she continued in a less severe tone. "he will loose himself in this kingdom of ours and then what? One day he will lift his head and realize that for all he has done he has nothing and no one to take care of him at the end of the day. That is something I fear for my son and I refuse to stand by and allow it to happen. If that means he marries someone below our station then so be it. I would rather see him happy then following standards our ridiculous society seems to dictate."
The king was silent and thoughtful. He knew his wife was a loving mother and a regal queen and as such he respected her opinions implicitly. 

He thought of his son, and he knew she was correct. Prince Damon loved his country all too well and though he has his own scruples, if pressured he would give them up for the good of his people. 'No, he must not be allowed to sacrifice himself in that cold and lonely manner. He should never be happy then,' the kind concluded with a sigh.

"Perhaps you are right. Forgive me, I have been an old fuddy-duddy haven't I? I just want what's best for our son."
"Our son?" the queen asked archly, a smile now on her lips as she looked up at her husband who had risen and was now standing behind her chair. He leaned down and kissed the top of her head and looking down at her repeated, "Yes, our son."