#the queen calls the king 'darling' because 'my little pogchamp' hasn't been invented yet

[nitewrighter]

Cindy Part 6

To read previous chapters, please check out my masterpost.

This is the part where I tell you that my initial narrative intentions regarding the queen were a fucked up mutant of “Cinderella should have more positive feminine presences because the Fairy Godmother isn’t in the story very long and evil stepfam creates a very fucked up narrative with regard to femininity!” But that ended up getting mixed up with me just… loving milfs. So like, the thought process here was essentially: “Oh, the queen could be a really kind and positive influence for Cindy!” And “God I love milfs so much. The queen has to be a milf. She can’t not be a milf.”

Also going against the tradition of previous chapters, and for the sake of timeliness and my liver, I wrote significant portions of this chapter sober. But I’m posting it drunk, just so it has the final approval of Drunk Me.

So, keeping that in mind, I give you this next chapter.

—---

The prince is draped across a cushy and appropriate fainting couch, it’s been about… 3 days since all of the glassworkers have been called into the palace and he is distraught. But with this whole, “literally no glassworker in the kingdom has ever seen anything like this slipper before (and at least one was convinced the slipper is cursed)” thing, he’s hit a dead end in the investigation. He also felt guilty about calling the glassworkers here when they all thought they’d be commissioned for something so he hasn’t really dismissed them saying, “I don’t know, make a chandelier or a greenhouse or something.”

Like, I need you to understand the whole “every girl in the kingdom claiming the shoe is hers should try on the shoe” approach was very much a last resort, at least in the Prince’s mind. In fact, news about the shoe hasn’t even left palace grounds yet. Hell, not even the king knows, which has been a very high priority for the Prince. He’s still trying to keep things low-key even though he’s clearly going full Hamlet—wearing fucking all black, sighing dramatically all the time, and pacing very quickly and muttering things under his breath that make the servants give him a wide berth and a wary side-eye in the palace hallways. The servants are muttering about mystery girl, too—since the prince has questioned the staff so thoroughly, and since she made such a strong impression on a handful of them, they can’t exactly help speculating. And Brad, under orders from the prince, has told the staff, “look, don’t bring this up to the king, he’s um… very busy. The prince can handle this.” And then the servants look back at the prince who is currently the saddest, wettest, most pathetic prince they’ve ever seen and they’re like, “…right.”

The king has mildly noticed the Prince’s transformation, but he’s basically under the impression of, “Oh he’s just being dramatic after that ball that he was complaining so much about. I had a goth phase, too. I’ll just give him space until he pulls himself together.”

So it’s business as usual at the palace but it’s business as usual with the weirdest fucking vibes ever and the Prince is draped over the fainting couch like “Brad she’s going to die and it’s going to be all my fault.”

“Or she’s going to get away with state secrets and it’s going to be all my fault,” says Brad. Brad pauses for a second, “Why do you think she’s going to die?”

“I don’t know if she’s alive!” The prince throws his hands up.

“…is this part of that ‘she was actually a ghost’ theory that’s been floating around the servants, because I still think that my neural agent theory is far more—”

Then a servant bursts through the doors of the prince’s quarters.

“Highness!” The servant blurts out, “There’s a pirate at the gates!”

“Pirate?” The prince glances up and he rushes over to the palace window. Indeed, just outside the gates there is a gorgeous-looking pirate with the hat, the coat, the thigh-high boots, everything. But there’s something familiar about her expression. Patient, regal… Wait—Regal? “Mum!” The prince blurts out and races down the stairs, barking orders at servants as he goes with Brad hurrying after him. Several footmen race ahead and open the palace gates and in strides the queen through the garden. She pretty much kicks the palace doors open and calls, “Darling, I’m home!” to the foyer, where there’s several glassworkers gathered around a small temporary worktable. The queen has two massive treasure chests under each arm dripping with gold and jewels with the slightest movement. She tilts her head at them with a slight ‘Hm’ and they all stare at her awkwardly until the prince cries out “Mum!” at the top of the stares, and then there’s a collective ‘Oh shit’ from the glassworkers as they recognize that this person in the sexy pirate outfit does in fact look very much like the portrait right behind them, and they all take a knee with a muttered, “Your majesty” as the queen sweeps into the foyer.

“Hullo, dear,” says the queen looking up at the prince, “I hope you weren’t too worried—”

The prince is stammering as he descends the stairs, “Well, to be honest, I probably should have been more worried—“

“God, just like your father…” the queen says with an eye-roll, “You know I have contingencies—”

“I know,” the prince says awkwardly.

Brad steps forward. “Your majesty, do you need help with—”

“Oh so lovely of you to offer, Brad,” says the queen, more or less shoving one of the treasure chests into his arms,

“I meant—” Brad starts but she stacks the other treasure chest on top of the first, “It’s—my pleasure—your majesty—“ he grunts under the treasure chests.

“I can always count on a strapping gentleman like you,” the queen smiles before whirling to face the prince. “Now, Chaz,” the Queen says, (another important point: only the king can call the prince ‘Chuck’ and only the Queen can call the prince ‘Chaz’,) “Do you care to explain to me why there are five glassworkers in our foyer?”

“I summoned them,” says the prince.

The queen looks mildly impressed because the Prince really doesn’t get out a lot. “Oh! For what?”

“Well.. I… thought they could… design a new chandelier? Or maybe a greenhouse.”

“Oh you know your father loves his chandeliers or greenhouses,” the queen is tossing off her sick pirate coat and a servant is fucking diving to catch it.

“He wanted us to look at a shoe!” One of the glassworkers pipes up.

“That shoe ain’t right…” mutters another glassworker.

“Shoe?” The queen arches an eyebrow, handing her giant feathered pirate hat off to a curtsying maid.

“Mum, you must be exhausted after all those pirates put you through—” the prince takes the queen by the forearm and is very quickly leading her away from the glassworkers and into a parlor, while Brad awkwardly lumbers after them, barely able to see over the stacked treasure chests and turning beet red with the strain.

“Privateers,” the queen holds up a finger.

“What?”

“They’re privateers now. Our privateers. Lovely chaps. Quite fond of musical theater.”

“…right…”

“What’s this about a shoe?”

“Oh you don’t need to worry about that or the glassworkers. Just a… little side project?”

“Mm,” the queen tilts her head at her son.

“But after all you’ve been through—” the prince starts but the queen motions to one of the servants.

“Would you draw me a bath, please?” and the servant nods and runs off. “Chaz,” she says, flopping back onto one of the parlor couches, “I won’t bore you with all the sword fights, homoerotic power struggles, drama, heartbreak, and musical numbers. Mostly, I’m just concerned with what I’ve missed. And I have a strong feeling I’ve missed an awful lot.”

“Well.. Dad…had… this one party…” the prince starts.

“Oh my welcome back party! I knew he had his heart set on it, poor thing… How was it?”

“It was—” The prince nearly says, ‘Terrible at first but then it was most amazing party ever and now it is also the bane of my existence, it’s very complicated and I’m in the middle of something that might be the most important thing in my life—I’m not sure but it feels like it.’ But he catches himself. “It was… um… uneventful.”

“Dearest?”

The queen perks up to see the king in the doorway to the parlor. She pushes herself up from the couch, “Oh Darling!”

And the prince just kind of glances off and twiddles his thumbs awkwardly while his parents throw themselves into a passionate, kiss-littered embrace, sentences barely making it out between kisses like,

“Oh, my love, were the pirates terrible?”

“Privateers, now. And they were perfect gentlemen. But the worst part was being apart from you, darling. Now you simply must tell me about the party you threw! Chaz was just telling me about it.”

“Oh yes, the ball! Every family of fashion in the kingdom was invited, he had a massive line of potential partners.”

The queen gives a steady, cool glance back to the Prince like, ‘That doesn’t sound uneventful, boy,’ before glancing back to the king and smoothing his hair, saying, “Oh darling, you know that’s an awful lot to put on our poor Chaz, he’s sensitive—”

“Well, we’ve talked about this! You know he can’t carry on the way he has. He’s a grown man, now!”

“He’s also in the room,” says the prince, a bit sullenly. Brad is turning purple in the face with strain at this point, still holding the two treasure chests.

“But I suppose it doesn’t matter, because when I was off checking in with the older lords in the smoking room, he just… disappeared from the whole party.”

“Disappeared?” The queen looks at the prince.

“It… all got a bit overwhelming!” said the Prince, brightening up and nervously trying to laugh things off.

“You could have given me some warning, Chuck!” the king blusters, “I was stuck spending the rest of the night convincing furious ladies that their daughters were in fact very pretty and then having to play rapid-fire matchmaker with any eligible bachelors present to make sure the whole thing didn’t fall into—into—wig-snatching, champagne-splashing, anarchy!”

A quiet wincing sound of strain, close in pitch to a kettle whistling, is now escaping Brad, still holding the treasure chests.

“But what does all this have to do with glassworkers and a shoe?” The Queen taps her chin thoughtfully.

“Oh that?” The prince straightens up in his seat, “Just—totally unrelated. Just a side project like I—”

Both treasure chests clatter to the floor with a clatter and a thud and the tinkling and ringing of spilling gold and jewels as the Captain of the Guard blurts out, “The prince slipped off from the party with a mysterious girl who held his attention nearly the entire night, but she fled the party at midnight. But now he can’t remember anything identifiable about her. Nor can any of the staff who interacted with her. Our only clue as to who she is, is the glass slipper she left. Which is why the prince brought in the glassworkers in the hopes of one of them identifying the shoe and telling him who they made it for. But none of them could. So we’re kind of back at square one.” He’s panting, still pink-faced.

And there’s a long pause in the room.

“Brad,” the prince says, “What the fu—”

“You said not to say a word to the king, you didn’t say anything about the queen,” Brad is still trying to catch his breath.

“You were with a girl all night?!” The king cuts in.

“Not all night, she left at midnight!” The prince blurts out.

“That’s basically all night,” mutters Brad.

“What was her name?” asks the queen.

And the prince opens his mouth like, oh he should absolutely have an answer ready for that but he just makes a short, half-squeaking “eh—” sound and new horror washes over his face. “Sheeee.... never said,” he says slowly.

“So… you don’t remember any identifying features, you don’t have a name, and all you have is a shoe?” The queen muses, “Well she must have made a very strong impression.”

“He did call her the love of his life,” Brad offers and the prince shoots him a look like ‘Brad I swear to god if I didn’t know you could kick my ass 6 ways to next Tuesday I would fucking destroy you right now.’

“AND YOU DIDN’T TELL ME!?” the King is pressing the heels of his hands to his forehead.

“BECAUSE I KNEW YOU’D BLOW IT UP AND MAKE IT A HUGE DEAL!” the prince throws his hands up.

“IT IS A HUGE DEAL! IT’S THE LOVE OF YOUR LIFE!”

The queen loudly clears her throat and both the king and the prince catch themselves.

“Remember your blood pressure, darling,” the Queen gives the king a gentle pat on the head.

“Look,” the prince takes a steadying breath, “Just… the way she took off, she looked really scared.”

“Possibly because she committed a crime,” Brad peppers in.

“Brad,” the prince says in warning.

“Just doing my job, your highness,” Brad mutters.

“So…I do want to find her,” the prince turns back to the King and queen, “I have to find her. But if I do it the wrong way, I—I could mess something up and never find her, do you understand?”

“Chaz,” the queen says, gently touching the side of the prince’s face, “I can’t tell you how much it thrills me that someone would inspire this… this passion in you.”

The prince reddens a little at the word ‘passion.’

“But I have to ask—” the Queen keeps that steady, gentle tone of voice, “You understand that loving someone isn’t the same as wanting to save them, don’t you?”

“I know…” the prince says, glancing down, “But… the way she talks, the way she acts… she doesn’t think twice about helping people. And I swear, Mum, something felt off, like really off. I need to find her. If anything, just to make sure she’s okay. The way she treated me… I don’t think she’d hesitate to do the same if our places were switched.”

One corner of the queen’s mouth quirks affectionately at her son. “Well, if you feel so strongly about it, I’m willing to trust your judgment. However, I won’t have anymore of this—this…” she flails a hand, “’Sneaking around’ nonsense. Asking poor Brad and our dear loyal staff to keep secrets between the family? That’s simply not fair to put on them.”

“Well-put, your majesty,” Brad says, and the prince gives him a ‘yeah you WOULD say that, asshole’ look.

“And you can bet that we’ll do all we can to help you find this girl as well!” says the King.

“That’s… Greeeaaaaaat…” the prince is forcing a smile.

“My Lady?” A maid stands in the doorway and curtsies, “Your bath is ready.”

“Oh perfect timing,” says the queen walking off towards her and rolling her shoulders as the maid briskly walks off. The queen hesitates in the doorway before looking back at the king and prince, “And I don’t want you two arguing about this!”

And the prince and the king are talking over each other as she walks off.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, dearest!”

“Oh, mum, I’d never—”

“Why this is my flesh and blood we’re talking about—”

“Two peas in a pod!”

“Mm-hmm,” The queen walks off and the prince and the king listen to the footsteps of her kickass thigh-high boots down the hallway.

“Okay,” the prince draws in a steadying breath before pressing his knuckles to his forehead, “So now you know. But I am begging you. Begging you. Please don’t make this a huge ridiculous thing.”

“Huge ridiculous thing?” the king huffs, “Why would I make it a huge ridiculous thing? I don’t make things into huge ridiculous things.”

“You literally turned Mom’s ‘could-have-been-canceled-welcome-back-party’ into some giant matchmaking clusterfuck.”

“Where you met the love of your life! You’re welcome, by the way!”

“I--you--that’s--!”

“He has a point,” Brad pipes in.

“Oh—-pick up the damn treasure chests, Brad!” The prince storms off, leaving Brad and the king.

“So dramatic..” The king puts his hands on his hips, “You know, his mother was just as much of a firecracker at his age, too.”

Brad glances at the king and points to the treasure chests. “Er—Can I get another guy on this—?”

“Of course you can get another guy on that,” the king pats his shoulder.

“…you’re going to make it a huge ridiculous thing, aren’t you?” Brad says after a beat.

“Sir Brad, I am your King. I wouldn’t dream of making it a huge ridiculous thing. Oh--by the way--when you’re done with that, find Gabe the Valet and you two go find me all the criers for every town, village, and hamlet in the country.”