The Cinderella Conscript (Black Magic & Junnabee)

[Junnabee]

The Cinderella Conscript


"No doubt you saw the whole pretty picture in detail. The young prince bowing to the assembly. Suddenly, he stops. He looks up. For lo... there she stands. The girl of his dreams. Who she is or whence she came, he knows not, nor does he care, for his heart tells him that here, here is the maid predestined to be his bride."
-Grand Duke

Rosette Lianne La'Mael

Rosette lived with her mother.

This isn't exactly the most important thing about her or even the most interesting. But, it does, however, explain quite a bit about the young woman as a whole. You see, being the child of a prostitute wasn't the most respectable thing in the world, but when your father walks out on you from a very young age and neither you nor your mother has any marketable skills it tends to be where you end up. People normally expect those women to remarry or learn a domestic skill. Rosette's mother, however, was not well suited for those tasks for the same reason her father had left them.

Her mother had what they only knew to call 'the shakes'. Her hands tremored and she would lose time to mental absences, and they had done so since she had been in an accident some nine to ten years prior. Rosette couldn't tell you when, exactly, it had been, only that the accident had taken place a few weeks after her tenth birthday. Despite this, Rosette's mother did what she had to in order to give Rosette some kind of respectable life.

All the same, it wasn't exactly easy. Food was tight now and again, and she never got to indulge in the finer things. On top of that, she was awfully lonely. Her mother gone for hours at a time during the night, she would often spend the cold dark hours curled up inside a dresser with blankets pulled around her - attempting not to feel so awfully alone. Not that being around others had been much better if she was being honest with herself. There were very few people she interacted with that didn't know her circumstances. The regular populace didn't think very highly of Rosette and her mother - seeing a woman sully herself and expose her child to that kind of lifestyle.

The only people Rosette truly felt accepted by were her mothers 'co-workers' and the working men who filled the bars her mother frequented for work. The other working women would mother Rosette as if she was their own and the men of the bars thought it was fun to teach the little scrappy girl running about different men's skills. Because of this, Rosette had a less than respectable skill set - she could butcher a pig or build a bookshelf with the best of them - and never found herself wanting for a mother's love. However, she never exactly learned how to act properly as a result. She never learned much people felt like she should have.

Despite all this, she didn't feel as if she had lost out. She liked being able to work with her hands, and didn't much care that she had been looked down upon. Sure, she might end up a bit of a spinster going as she was... But in the end, after growing up in the environment she had, she began to feel as if that might be for the best. A woman, she had concluded, should never need to truly rely on a man. She should be self-sufficient - as a man would just as quickly turn their back on her for a young and prettier model. Perhaps that kind of thinking was a little jaded, but it would get her through life well enough.

It only makes sense that when The Cinderella's Ball was coming closer and closer to rolling around her eyes would roll with it, despite the fact she would be of an age that would grant her eligibility. Quite a lot of the working ladies spoke very fondly of their own debut, calling it a magical night they would always remember... but even more of them warned her off it.

Quite a few of the higher-status men, nobles and high blood of the like, used this ball as their own kind of matchmaking service - not too unlike the prince himself would. Some looked for brides, others mistresses. Some even would charm the young and naive who thought they were going to marry up, only to shag her out of sight and move on to the next one in their long list of conquests they would claim till the time the ball came to an end.

Rosette found the idea, frankly, a little appalling and would have liked very little to do with it. However, the event is considered something of a law - no woman or girl of a certain age could bow out. Unfortunately, as aforementioned, Rosette fell into the ranks of the young woman who would be considered in attendance. So, when the time rolled around, her mother pulled some strings to get Rosette a chance at perhaps finding a good match... or at least having something of a good night (it really was, her mother had sighed, a most magical event).

She had made a deal with the Madam she worked under. Rosette, along with the other younger working girls or the older daughters of the working girls, would go under the Madam's name - a stand-in for a fairy godmother. In return for this status, she would outfit the girls with finery to give them a winning chance. Mind you, the Madam was doing this with the warning that the girls had better pull in more clientele while they were there - not that Rosette had even considered doing as such.

This led Rosette to where she was now.

Decked out in a soft tanned yellow gown with a golden see-through overlay. Armed with puffed sleeves and a bodice sinched to the point she felt, frankly, light-headed. A hand-me-down gown from a generation before, not the worst or the oldest dress among the crowd but still not the most eye-catching thing. She felt uncomfortable and just a little too hot underneath the layers of the gown's fabric. The material was heavy and the extra layers to create a pillowing train-like effect were no help. Her hair was done up in one single large plaits made up of smaller once and then wrapped around itself to create a bun so tight her skull ached with the tug of her own hair, and her mouth felt sticky with the deep red paste the Madam had insisted she should wear to the event.

She stood off on the far end of the ballroom, close to the entrance the masses had been led through and (more importantly) close to the refreshments. She had been pulled into a dance or three at this point in the night, and her feet ached in the too-tight heels her feet and been forced into. Which, while perhaps fun under different circumstances, at this moment was decidedly not. Her partners were never as gentlemanly as they pretended to be. She was often kept spinning among the swaying masses for far too long. She had found that by standing so close to the drinks with one of her own in hand, she was left, for the most part, to her own devices. Still, now and again, she would be drawn into pleasant but meaningless conversation with a woman much prettier than herself or a man looking for attention.

Her time wasn't completely unpleasant. When she could spare a moment or two to herself she would take the time to ideally observe the handy work of the chandelier or the craftsmanship of the crown molding with an awed kind of reverence. It was all very grand work, and she had to admit she found herself quite taken aback at the ambiance the castle itself exuded. She felt as if she could spend months doing nothing else than admiring the craftsmen ship of the chairs if only someone would let her. If for that reason alone, she imagined she would be quite disappointed when the party came to an end at midnight. She certainly wouldn't miss the company or the clothes, or anything else of the sort.