Unhappily Ever After

By Lucinda E Clarke

Two hundred years on in Fairyland since that memorable ball when Cinderella met Prince Charming. But love does not always flourish and Cinderella, now fat, blowsy and ill-mannered wants a divorce. But how can she accomplish this when her knig is still madly in love with her? 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Umhlanga Press
• Release date: Sep 16, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386595816

Book preview

Breakfast

‘Once upon a time’ is the way all fairy stories begin, but this is not a story. It’s the true historical account of a period of turbulence in the history of Fairyland. The terrifying climax was a culmination of many seemingly unrelated events, which all played their part in the shocking conclusion.

Fairyland was originally one large, happy land, where everyone lived in peace and harmony. Kings, queens, princes and princesses co-existed peacefully with peasants, idiots, dragons, perverts and fairy godmothers.

Then came the battle of the two giants; a long and terrible war, in which both fought to dominate the kingdom. Needless to say one of them was defeated and went off in a sulk, and in a final show of temper threw up the Impassable Mountains which annexed the area later known as Farovia.

It was shortly after this that a strange disease blew in which had a devastating effect on all creatures over three metres tall. Historians could only surmise that both giants succumbed to this disease because they were never heard of again.

Throughout the subsequent years no contact was made between Fairyland on one side of the mountains and the inhabitants of Farovia on the other. Most had forgotten that it had ever been one land. In Fairyland they accepted the towering, rocky ranges as the edge of their reality; the edge of their world.

The Farovians too never thought to wonder what lay beyond the Impassables; they were much too busy raising families, working and dying, to waste their time on pointless speculation.

Over the centuries, petty jealousies caused many rifts in Fairyland leading to a split into three large kingdoms and several smaller principalities. The most important and largest of the kingdoms was Charmingdon, ruled by King Charming and Queen Cinderella. It was a happy, peaceful place outside the palace with a stable economy and thousands of happy peasants tilling the lands and breeding more peasants when they weren’t too tired.

Charmingdon itself was textbook Fairyland. It had little cobbled streets that all led to the palace. The gabled, tumbledown cottages in the towns and villages, similar in design to Earth Tudor, were adorned with pink, red and yellow climbing roses around the mullioned windows twinkling in the sunshine.

It only rained during the hours of darkness, and in adequate quantities to allow for a profusion of natural growth that annually yielded sufficient crops to sustain a self-contained economy. The village squares were the scenes for the annual maypole dancing, the weekly market and the mop fairs where labour was hired and fired, amid raucous and vulgar remarks from the over-excited crowd. Life was truly medieval, from the water pumps at the end of each street to the glow of rush lighting in the windows at night.

The palace itself was a cross between Buckingham Palace in London and your average towering German Schloss. It was built on the only hill for miles around and dominated the town. The main drive was approached through enormous wrought iron gates at the bottom of the hill and culminated in a flight of some three hundred steps sweeping up to the massive front doors. There were over four hundred rooms in Charmingdon Palace, not including the dungeons and kitchens. It was so vast that even its royal owner had never explored it all.

While all was peace and harmony in the villages, inside the palace it was not so. King Charming sat in the third best breakfast room and gazed gloomily at his royal toast, his royal bacon, his royal eggs and his royal coffee. He was a handsome man, with a full head of dark, wavy hair. His figure was strong and upright and a pair of twinkly blue eyes shone from a sun tanned face above a straight and perfectly shaped nose. He stood nearly six foot in his socks and was, exactly as his name suggested, charming. His character was not forthright however, and he liked to please all of the people all of the time; he could never say no easily. He was not made in the mould one would expect of a ruler of the greatest land in existence.

The merry peasants adored his happy smile, but as he seldom involved himself with the lower classes, few were aware what a meek and mild man he really was. Anyway, it would never occur to the peasants to question a mighty royal who resided in the only edifice in the land that was not officially classed as a hovel. It is doubtful, in fact, if more than a handful of the peasants who worked outside the palace grounds had even seen their king except as a speck in the distance on the royal balcony or disappearing from sight on the back of a horse.

King Charming came from a long line of ancestors whose blood ran true blue, really true blue, and he was brought up to believe very strongly in tradition. ‘As it always had been, so it always shall be’.

Raised in this palace of gigantic proportions, his every whim had been satisfied from the day he first drew breath. His cradle had been attended by a sentry at each corner. Nurses had to surgically scrub before they were permitted to handle his belongings. The day he caught the measles, businesses closed down, home industries ceased production and the whole land waited with bated breath for news of his recovery.

Recover he did, and it is just as well that his early years were healthy, or it could have destroyed the economy. Thus, he grew to be a legend in his own time. With such attention – for example ­three life guards round the clock and round the swimming pool from the day he took to the water – one would expect him to grow into a cross between a megalomaniac and a wimp. Charming did not resemble either. His manners were impeccable and he developed into a sweet, not very sensible, and definitely not very bright, soul who did justice to his name. He was so saint-like that people, while worshipping him, were a little wary of him. People too good to be true are regarded cautiously by their fellow man.

The death of Charming's parents – they simply adored chariot racing and misjudged that final bend – brought untold wealth to the young prince and power beyond belief. In his hands was the authority to dispose of any or all of his subjects as he saw fit. He was a total autocrat in a land that did not expect to be ruled in any other way. Yet Charming remained his own sweet self. The result was a happy and contented kingdom where each day was as delightful as the one before and would be forever more. Nothing would happen to disturb Charming's idyllic life or his upright, well-bred existence – not even his wife.

Of all marriages theirs must have been the most mismatched in the history of time. Everything that Charming was, Cinderella was not. She'd had a hard upbringing, in one of the poorest areas of Charmingdon and she'd never shaken her common accent. She’d been born a peasant and she would die a peasant. Not all the royal trimmings in the world would ever change that. Not that Cinders had ever been seen to make an effort. Since becoming a royal she'd had all the advantages of dancing classes, elocution lessons, instruction in etiquette, even horse riding lessons, but having made it to the top without such accomplishments, Cinderella really didn't see why she should bother now.

Time had not been kind to the Queen's figure either. She had a particular fondness for chocolates, toasted marshmallows, cream cakes, doughnuts, waffles, sugar buns – oh let's be honest – Cinderella had a passion for anything edible. She spent the greater part of her day consuming everything in sight, and as her figure grew outwards, her appetite grew in tandem. She was of average height, with dull, mousy hair, and the fair complexion and freckles to match. Her large bulk made it impossible for her to ever look smart despite heroic efforts on the part of her many dressmakers. As soon as she began to move, her flesh wobbled in every direction, and at the extremity of a pair of very stout legs were the most amazing feet you've ever seen. Even she had to admit they were not exactly the most beautiful feet, but, she had a lot to thank them for. She was the only female in the whole land whose foot fitted that slipper lost at the Ball, and that made them the famous feet that had become her trademark. They were always bare. She liked, she said, to wiggle her toes at all times.

Despite all this Charming adored her. In his eyes she could do no wrong. He did not recognize her common behaviour, her faults, her gross appearance, her appalling manners. To him she was perfection incarnate. True, she had a bit of a temper, but everyone has their little foibles and if she possessed an interesting way of expressing her feelings, well, that was part of her enchanting personality.

Cinderella was not so inclined to adore her spouse. The thought of being the most important queen in the land had thrilled and excited her two centuries ago; to get ‘one up’ on those snotty sisters of hers was a dream come true. But it all turned out to be very boring. She began to despise her adoring husband. He irritated her with his goodness, yet it was his very goodness that made it so difficult to be really nasty to him. He failed to understand her snide remarks, her sexual innuendoes, her criticisms. She sat for hours wondering how to free herself from this marriage she had come to loathe. Perhaps she should come straight out and tell him in a language even a four-year old would understand. Yes, she’d procrastinated long enough. She'd tell him today, this morning, at breakfast.

Charming was very depressed. He’d had bad news, and while toying with his royal breakfast, he was puzzling over a way to break it to his beloved.

Outside the sun blazed out of a clear blue sky, the birds twittered in the trees and the peasants called happy greetings to each other as they toiled unceasingly in the fields. Inside the palace everything hummed with its usual efficiency as servants hurried to and fro, brushing the acres of carpets with toothbrushes and dusting the furniture with Q-tips.

Only those who are truly in love could sympathize with Charming's problem. Only those who lived from second to second thinking of the object of their affections, could understand the despair in his heart. But he must be brave, tell her now, today, this morning, at breakfast.

His melancholy thoughts were interrupted by the bugler, who drew himself to his full height, clicked his heels to attention and began the fanfare.

Oh, stuff that bloody 'orn in yer ear snapped Cinderella, as she attempted to sweep into the room. Yer gives me an 'eadache every time yer blows it. Mornin' Charmin’. She approached the table, padding across the blue carpet in her bare toes. I bet there ain’t a room in this palace smaller than a football field. By rights, I should lose pounds every day wiv' all this bloody exercise. She flopped into a chair.

It was not a pretty sight. Large areas of royal flesh protruded from the royal housecoat, her hair was a mess and traces of last night's make up were still clearly visible. She looked as if she'd been dragged through several hedges backwards.

Bring me the royal kidneys, an' the royal kippers, an' the royal kedgeree, an’ a royal pot o' tea, she shrieked.

Charming winced, his darling was not in a good mood. But the very sight of her brought tears of love to his eyes. He was so lucky, where else would a man find such a perfect woman?

The royal breakfast arrived promptly, borne by three liveried footmen and two serving wenches. Cinderella sniffed noisily and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. She set to and began to demolish the food, shovelling it into her mouth with her hands and the serving spoons.

Cheer up Charmin', she said through a mouthful of medium rare kidneys, life ain’t that bad, sun's shinin' to order as always.

Charming smiled nervously and nodded. He would tell her now. Did you sleep well, dearest? he asked gently.

Coulda' been worse. You sure them new-fangled dovette things on the bed a good idea? I'll swear them feathers escaped an' went right up me nose. She crammed in another ladleful of kedgeree. ‘Ow come you look like yer've been up for 'ours?

Well, I have my dear. It's already half way through the morning. I was up at dawn to go hunting.

Don't know 'ow yer can bear to be near them nasty 'orrible 'orses. Dangerous, I call ‘em. Cinderella finished her sixth slice of toast, sat back belching loudly, and lit one of her favourite cigars.

Charming took a deep breath.

I have some bad news that I don't think you will like, he began. Her beautiful face clouded over and he shivered.

Oh, yeah?

He cleared his throat. It's only two weeks to the Annual Ball, and I was thinking ...

Cancel it, replied Cinderella coldly. I'm not going through all that again. Last year was bloody awful. For nearly two 'undred years I bin there, three bloody days o’ torture, an' I ain’t gonna be there this year.

But my darling, he protested, it’s been a tradition in our family for thousands of years, since the splitting of the Fairyland kingdoms. Where else can young princesses and princes get together to meet and marry? And, as my queen you must be there at my side.

'Ave yer any idea what it's like fer me? Two large tears welled out of the Queen's eyes and ran down her cheeks to drip into her tea. Them's all snobs what come. All them bloody royal families. They laugh at me, stare at me figure, she attempted to pull her housecoat over the larger exposed areas of flesh. They stand an' talk of Fairyland finishing schools I ain’t ever 'eard of, an' ask me on purpose ‘bout snobby families I don't even know. Oh, yeah, to yew they're charmin', it's Yer 'ighness this, an' Yer 'ighness that, grovel grovel. But to me? Ha, they know where I come from an' they won't let me forget it.

She cried some more. Charming looked on helplessly.

'Onest Charmin' yer never should’a done it. Never 'ave married me, I ain’t good enough fer you. I told yer that one lousy dance an’ me tryin' shoes on weren't a good basis fer marriage, she lied. But yer wouldn't listen to me. Yer've always 'ad yer own way. Comes o' being royal I 'spose.

That's a little harsh, my dear, murmured Charming. I truly love you and that's all that matters. I don't care what anyone else might say. I'm sure you misunderstand sometimes. My royal friends love you as much as I do.

Bollocks! wailed Cinderella. Yer know that ain’t true. Charmin' 'ow can you put me through this? Yer know ‘ow miserable it makes me!

Charming reached for her hands and patted them fondly.

I would do anything in the world to please you, but this is different. I would be neglecting my kingly duty, turning my back on what I know to be right. It's only for three days, surely that can't be so bad, and I'll be by your side every moment of the day and night, that I promise you. Come on, dry those little eyes, he handed her his handkerchief. Let's have a little smile on that face. You don't have to bother your tiny head about the arrangements, I'll see to it all.

Sure you will, thought Cinderella, wondering how she could contract syphilis or some other socially unacceptable disease that would ensure her removal from the list. Anyway, a moron could arrange the Ball, the servants had been at it for years and they only needed to repeat the performance, once again.

Charmin', don't yer think we oughta get a divorce? she sniffed.

A what! the King recoiled in his royal seat. My dearest darling, you're not serious!

Oh yeah I am. I don't fit in 'ere, this palace an' all. An' I don't get on wiv yer friends, an' I don't enjoy doing the things what yer like an' ... an' we're just not really suited, Charmin'.

No, no! he cried. It's not possible, there's no such thing as divorce in Fairyland, it's not even on the statute books, and it never will be. Think of our reputations, everyone knows we live happily ever after. Imagine what would happen to the peasants. They would riot, chopping and changing partners like an episode of Dallas. We can't give them the licence to change their minds every two minutes. And we both know they’ve got very small minds, he added tactlessly. Marriage is a sacred trust, entered into after much thought and deliberation.

Come off it Charmin', yew didn't 'ang about fer long did yer?

Charming wriggled uncomfortably in his chair. It's different with royals, there aren't as many of us and we have to grab what we can get, he added, making matters worse. Do you know what we called the Ball when we were younger? Grand Royal Annual Ball, GRAB, he chortled. Some of those young princes were always up to mischief, especially Harold, always one for the girls. But Mother always reminded me of my high position in life, how one mustn't sully one's body for a cheap thrill. I was to remain pure and healthy at all times, he reminisced.

Oh god, thought Cinderella, not the bloody morals speech again. I'm sick 'n tired of 'earing what Mummy said a ‘undred and fifty years ago, silly old bat she was. P’raps yer should 'ave experimented, Charmin'. Yer'll never know 'ow useless yer are. An' yer won't even let me show yer a thing or two. There's some good fun to be 'ad with fur and whipped cream. But then yer all for maintaining yer dignity at any price, keepin' yer popularity with the peasants, bein' firm, strong, upright, a gentleman and a right royal, boring pain in the arse.

I still think we ain’t suited, said Cinderella stubbornly. Think 'ow it was, Charmin'. Me growin’ up wiv two deranged 'alf sisters an' a mentally retarded mother, stuck in an 'ovel on the edge of town. I even 'ad to clean out the grate after they kicked Buttons out.

Too cruel, murmured the King.

Yeah, well, they found us sort of together in a pigsty an' gave 'im the boot. Anyway, when a wanderin' prince 'appens by an' offers me 'alf 'is kingdom, what's a girl supposed to do? But, at the time, well, I didn't think it through proper, an' why don't we just divide up the kingdom? Yer give me my share, an' I'll build meself a new palace on the other side o’ the land an' that'll solve the problem.

Divide up the kingdom! Charming was truly shocked. "We couldn't do that, we're not married in community of property and even though I'd be happy to give you the whole kingdom my dearest, it's just not possible. There are ancient decrees and laws that stretch back into the mists of time forbidding any such changes in boundaries. The major kingdoms are only just large enough to be self-supporting, but the smaller ones must barter with us for nearly all their requirements.

But enough of this depressing talk. You’re just feeling a little bit down because you're not looking forward to the Ball. You'll soon cheer up and be my happy, cheerful Cinderella again. Have some more to eat. Charming turned back to read the royal dispatches, convinced that all was well again.

Cinderella demolished two more platefuls of kidneys and ten more slices of toast before she left the table to think things over.

The Invitations

Charming's Queen strode down the corridors that were adorned every few feet by the heads of luckless animals who’d been silly enough to run into Charming's bullets. They leered down at her as if to remind her they were all in the same situation.

At least they got stuffed good and proper, she thought. I can't even find a bit on the side, they all respect 'is 'ighness too much.

She crossed the main hall and puffed her way up the three flights of marble stairs to her boudoir. This was her private sanctum and the only room she'd been allowed to redecorate. The rest of the palace remained as it was when Noah was young. Crammed with massive, dark, antique furniture, marble statues, and busts – all decently clothed of course – rusting suits of armour, tattered flags waving in memory of ancient battles, and, of course, the stuffed animals that were added to on a regular basis. Charming's ancestors had a passion for killing things. If it moved, they shot it. Up to quite recently, many a stuffed peasant had also adorned the walls until Charming decided that in this modern day and age it was not quite the done thing. Life was becoming more humane.

Cinderella gazed fondly at the lime green carpet, the fuchsia curtains, the bright orange wall hangings and the purple lacquered furniture. It was only here that she could really relax, and throwing herself carelessly onto the enormous four-poster bed, she considered her future.

She couldn’t stand it much longer; she was bored out of her mind. What was there to do all day but bawl and sneer at the servants? It was the only interesting pastime she'd discovered in almost two hundred years since her elevation to the very cream of nobility. Yet she wasn't prepared to just walk away from the palace; even two centuries couldn't dim the memories of all the manual labour that was the lot of the humble peasant. She hadn't washed her underwear, cooked a meal, skinned a goat, made a bed, or slept with the pigs since the day she got married. She'd become used to the hundreds of servants waiting to respond to her every whim. No, walking away was out of the question.

So, point one, she couldn't leave. That meant that Charming had to, but how? She hesitated over whether to kill him, but that would be difficult. He was so bloody good and Cinderella was not all bad. She could hardly help it if she’d woken up to the fact that she did not love Charming even a little bit, yet she didn’t hate him either. And, it must be remembered, although she didn't like the royal way of life, and she couldn't stand the other royals, she did like the royal money.

If she found the courage to ‘do Charming in’, would the palace servants and peasants accept her as Queen? She didn't think so. No, she'd never get Charming out. Her first idea was the best one. Persuade him to send her away, with a decent pension and say, fifty servants. That should be enough shouldn't it?

There was also the problem of heirs. In two centuries of marriage she’d only produced one daughter, Primrose, who was already a hundred and seventy five.

(A short note on time here for those who aren’t too familiar with this historical period. Most wealthy people lived to about five hundred. The peasants, of course, dropped dead much earlier, after a couple of hundred years or so from sheer exhaustion).

Although Charming doted on his daughter, he was still waiting patiently for a son and heir to arrive. He would wait in vain. Cinderella had no intentions of going through all that again, not for anything. So, during his regular Saturday night visit while he was pushing and grunting and straining with hope in his heart, Cinderella was smiling and pretending, with the pill, a Dutch cap and two tubes of ‘Antimate’ inside her.

What was Charming's weak point? That wasn't easy to find. Did he have a weak point? Ah, probably his pride in his lineage, the Charmingdon tradition, in keeping up appearances. His motto was ‘As it has been, so it will always be’.

Aha! Now that might solve the problem. What if she wrecked the Ball, turned it into a shambles, embarrassed him before all the royalty in the land? He'd have to get rid of her then. It would be just too humiliating for him to stay married to someone who could not, would not, fit in with tradition. And, being such a gentleman he couldn't turn her loose on the streets now, could he? Lousy bit of public relations.

So, she had two weeks to plan; not long. She'd need help. In the meantime, she'd better keep her mouth shut about the divorce and wanting to leave him. He had a poor memory as far as she was concerned and would quickly forget about the conversation at breakfast. She would be his loving wife right up to the Ball, she could act that out for a couple of weeks, and then let him have it.

It would be so much better if he just sent me away. I hope he offers me a decent pension, I really don't want to kill him, she thought, opening another box of chocolates.

*     *     *     *     *

Charming sighed and left the breakfast table. He'd send out the Ball invitations now, while he still remembered. The majority he'd leave to his private secretaries, but he must handwrite the special ones to his close friends: King Augustus of Beautonia and King Harold of Snowballia.

He strolled down to the study, tugging at the elastic on his pantaloons where the leggings had wedged uncomfortably in his crotch. Charming still preferred the more traditional dress. He wore a high collar surrounded by a ruff, over which was a heavily studded waistcoat in a deep rust to match the pantaloons and rust coloured stockings covering a fine pair of legs. His rather dainty feet were encased in a pair of high heeled shoes sporting long feathers, the tips of which brushed his knees as he walked.

He entered the study and approached the roll-top desk. This was his favourite room. It was a warm, comfortable place, filled with the significant moments of his life. The walls were covered from floor to ceiling with pictures: pictures of Charming in his cradle, pictures of Charming in the schoolroom with his private tutor, pictures of Charming as head of the palace sword team – the only sword team in the kingdom, and Charming had been the only member – and pictures of Charming playing ‘hunt the peasant’. He was depicted at archery contests, standing on a variety of dead animals, at his wedding, Primrose's christening, and of course, pictures of Charming and his guests at the Annual Balls. He found these reminders of his life comforting; as it always has been, so it will always be.

He rang for a servant to bring him coffee, settled himself behind his desk and pulled out a heavily embossed blank invitation. To Harold first. He picked up his pen and paused, what a lot of memories sprang to mind. Those were the good old days. They had travelled from their respective kingdoms every chance they could get to spend time together. Charming had seen himself as the balance between Harold and Augustus. Charming had been the sensible one. Harold would dream up all the terrible things to do, while Augustus had always been frightened of his own shadow.

Three carefree princes had galloped around the kingdoms looking for dragons to slay or maidens in distress to rescue. Charming had found Cinderella and the others had found theirs too.

Harold had stumbled across Masie quite by accident. She’d been lying in a glass coffin, guarded by seven deformed little dwarfs. They'd not recognized Harold as a prince and had offered the usual: five talents for a look, twenty-five for a kiss, but for a hundred they'd rip off her clothes for a really good gander.

Harold was incensed, and his better instincts had