Kissing Cindy

TAUGHT YOUNG

Happily ever after was never what she was chasing. Cindy’s stepmother made certain of that. Jealous of a child who still believed in rescue, she taught Cinderella early that princes were not saviors; they were opportunities. That love, once offered, became leverage, and in a kingdom built on power, leverage was everything. She was taught to break hearts the way others broke bread: deliberately, without apology, and always to survive. The woman who taught her to wield love as a weapon would later frame her as a sunset of darkness for using it too well. Beautiful, blamed, and accused of causing darkness.

So as Cindy grew older, across the land, men were outwitted by this damsel in distress. A damsel, who was distressed about how these princes’ perceived chivalry, riches, and overall, women. See, Cindy was a rare beauty, one who could “break the heart” of any prince to peasant. So beautiful, she was even able to pull off the glass chains and gold cuffs, with a magical bond tighter than her bun. Each link caught the light and bent it, refracting her reflection into fractured versions of herself: a girl, a criminal, a princess, a liar. All of which she was, and what was true.

TRIAL: THE KINGDOM VS. CINDY

The Fairy GodJudge gasped as the beauty was dragged through the towering court doors, glass chains chiming softly as the rat guards pulled her forward. She had ruled this kingdom for centuries. She had seen monsters plead innocence and saints confess guilt. And still, she could not reconcile the woman before her with the devastation whispered in every corner of the realm. This girl, this Cindy, looked like a princess, not a monster. The Fairy GodJudge caught herself staring. Immediately, she straightened her spine and smoothed the folds of her white, glittering gown, starlight clinging to the fabric like frost. Her gavel wand hovered with practiced precision just above the block, ready to strike should awe turn into disorder. A judge could not afford to wonder. Not today.

When the last bench filled, the chubbiest rat bailiff scurried forward, puffing out his chest. In a squeak that carried surprising authority, he cried, “All rise!” The entire kingdom stood. Those with crowns and those with claws. Creatures with tentacles, hooves, wings, paws, and scales. Even the shadows along the walls seemed to lift themselves higher. All respected the Fairy GodJudge. Paul spoke again, his voice steadier now. “The Honorable Fairy GodJudge presiding.” She took her seat. “Now all be seated,” the bailiff announced. The Fairy GodJudge raised her gavel wand high and swept it left, magic spilling from the tip in shimmering script across the air above the court. Letters formed, glowed, and locked into place. THE KINGDOM VS. CINDY. The wand lowered, and the trial began.

The Fairy GodJudge leaned forward, her wings settling behind her like folded judgment. “Cindy,” she said, her voice neither cruel nor kind, but heavy with consequence. “Lady Ma, your stepmother, has informed this court that you have turned dark. She claims she turned you in, not out of malice, but out of duty. According to her testimony, you have spent years breaking hearts and taking from princes who did not deserve such treatment.” A murmur rippled through the room. “Lady Ma is not present today, by her own request,” the Fairy GodJudge continued, “but her statement stands. Before we begin formal proceedings, do you wish to say anything for the record?”

All eyes turned to Cindy. She rose slowly, glass chains chiming like distant bells. When she smiled, it was not apologetic; it was knowing. “It was well deserved,” she said sweetly. “Every heart claimed to be broken was already fractured by corruption. I merely took what was rotting and made it visible.” She paused, her gaze lifting toward the judge. “And I was taught this lesson at a very young age. By the one and only…” The defense advises the accused to stop speaking.

The doors at the back of the courtroom swung open, and heads turned. A man stepped inside, his tuxedo buttoned high, posture immaculate, presence immediate. He walked with the confidence of someone who did not need permission to enter any room. Lawyer Charming, the same man the council once tried to crown prince of the kingdom, until he refused the title. He had not wanted to rule. He wanted something far more dangerous. Justice. Known for unraveling impossible cases and exposing truths no one wished to unearth, he approached the bench without hesitation. “I formally request to take this case,” he said evenly. “And I strongly advise my client to refrain from further testimony until counsel is established.” Cindy stared at him. The chains at her wrists warmed, not with fear, but with disbelief. Why would he help her? Of all the people in the kingdom, why would the man who turned down the crown choose this fight? The Fairy GodJudge studied him carefully. For the first time that day, the balance of the courtroom shifted.

THE COUNSEL

The court was dismissed to allow counsel time. Cindy and Lawyer Charming were escorted to the Queen’s Park of Broken Minds, a living garden built into the courthouse at the Fairy GodJudge’s request. White stone paths curved through flowering hedges shaped like open palms, each one symbolic of mercy offered. They were never alone. The Queen’s followers stood watch at every entrance, wings folded, eyes sharp. Privacy was denied, but truth, it seemed, did not require silence. They sat across from one another at a small marble picnic table, its edges softened by creeping ivy.

Lawyer Charming spoke first. “Cindy,” he said carefully, “do you have any way of proving these accusations aren’t what they appear to be? Because… I believe, in some form or fashion, they are not.” She looked at him, genuinely startled. “But they are true,” she said quietly. “I did those things. I broke their hearts. I took from them.” She inhaled, steadying herself. “The court will only ever see what it wants to see, but the truth is heavier than the story they tell.” He didn’t interrupt. “Yes,” she continued, “I broke those men, but only as revenge for the wrongs they committed long before they ever met me. My stepmother taught me early to use love as leverage, to gain power. I chose something different. I chose to pull the truth out of them instead.” She met his eyes. “I can prove it, but it will only work if you believe. This truth doesn’t show itself to doubters.”

Lawyer Charming leaned back slightly, stunned not by fear, but by recognition. “I believe you,” he said slowly. “Something tells me you weren’t trying to destroy them. You were trying to draw the darkness out.” The tension seemed to melt away as Cindy's lips curved in relief. She reached down and slipped one of her glass slippers from her foot, setting it carefully on the table between them, nestled among the flowering shrubs. “Then look.” The slipper began to glow. White mist gathered inside the glass, curling and thickening until the surface clouded over. Slowly, a vision formed.

They saw Cindy walking toward the Prince of Rosehaven. He stood amid piles of gifts: silks, jewels, gold, offering them to her as though she herself were something to be purchased. He laughed, proud, indulgent. “He did this to every woman,” Cindy said quietly. “Treated us like ornaments. Proof of status.” The vision shifted, and they watched her open his vault, emptying it not with greed, but precision. Then the scene broke open into the town beyond the palace walls: crumbling homes, hollow-eyed peasants, children with bare feet on broken stones. Cindy moved through them, placing gold into open hands, restoring what had been taken.

The vision jumped again, and Cindy fled into the night. The slipper fell, the image dissolved, and she looked at Lawyer Charming. “Now do you see?” she asked. “Yes, I emptied his vault, but I redirected that money into the lives he destroyed. I didn’t break his heart; I broke his pride.” Her voice did not shake. “He wanted to use me the way my stepmother taught me to use others. To gain power. To consume. I refused.” She rested her hand lightly on the table. “That wasn’t justice to him,” she said softly. “But it was justice to me.” Lawyer Charming stared at the slipper, then at her. In that moment, the case stopped being about law and became about truth.

TWISTED HOPE

Lawyer Charming knew, long before the verdict was spoken, that Cindy would be found guilty. Kingdoms rarely forgive those who survive without permission. Still, he took her back into the courtroom, because he could not unsee himself in her, a soul who did not crave power, who refused corruption even when it was rewarded, who understood that justice and goodness were not the same thing. They presented every case. The glass slipper revealed its truths again and again. The Prince of Rosehaven, who mistook women for ornaments and had his pride exposed. The Prince of Silverword, who loved how she made him feel, not who she was. The Prince of Blackwater, who believed women were currency. The Prince of Everfrost, who called possession protection and tried to lock her away. Even so, the truth revealed itself, but no one reacted.

The kingdom watched through the lens of its own fantasies, twisted and convenient. They saw only what they wanted to see. Lawyer Charming even raised the defense no one wished to hear, that her stepmother had trained her this way, molded her into a weapon long before she understood love, but the court was unmoved. “She is an adult now,” they said. “Her choices are her own.” As expected, the Fairy GodJudge lifted her wand high, mallet glowing. “Guilty,” she declared. “On all charges.” The glass chains tightened, and Cindy was dragged toward the holding cage meant to swallow the rest of her days. As she passed him, Lawyer Charming called out, voice sharp and certain: “Midnight, love.” She did not look back.

THE ESCAPE

Hours passed, and in the dark, Cindy sat alone, the word love echoing painfully in her mind; foreign, fragile, dangerous. Midnight? Love? She had heard neither spoken with truth before. Then the clock struck at midnight. Laughter drifted softly through the corridor. Guard voices blurred. One by one, they fell silent, caught in a gentle trance spun by charm and belief. Footsteps approached, and then Lawyer Charming leaned against her cage, smiling not smugly, but warmly. “My beauty,” he whispered. “Leave with me. Let’s rewrite our story.” He met her eyes. “I see a woman trained to leave first. A kingdom that punished survival and a girl framed by the very hand that taught her how to endure.”

The cage door opened. “Come away with me,” he said. “And we will become legend.” She didn’t hesitate and they vanished into the night. By morning, the spell on the guards faded. The Fairy GodJudge was informed, but no pursuit was ordered. Some truths, she knew, did not wish to be dragged back into daylight. The kingdom rewrote the story as they always do. Cindy became a warning. Daughters were told: Do not dream too brightly. Do not trust too deeply or you'll end up like Cindy.” Sons were warned: She will take your heart, your gold, your crown. Glass slippers were placed at crossroads, not as promises, but as caution, and sometimes, it was said, Cindy still walked at midnight. Not to be saved, but to remind the world that love, when owned by power, becomes a weapon and that the darkest fairytales are often the truest ones.