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Chapter Text

Once upon a time there was a kingdom called America, a vast land with wintery norths surrounded by oceans and lakes, prosperous plains and massive mountains in its middle, lovely coasts on the east and west, and souths that ranged from dry and desert-like to almost tropical. The kingdom was divided into fifty provinces, and in one of these provinces, New York, there was a stately tower, in the penthouse of which lived a widowed noblewoman and her young daughter, Cinderodham. Although she was a kind and devoted mother and did her best to give her daughter the most exceptional education and comforts, there eventually came a point where they found themselves destitute and facing the possibility of losing their home. Cinderodham’s mother had been a high ranking noblewoman from a wealthy family, but when she married her commoner merchant husband she had consequently been cut off from her family’s fortunes. Though she and her husband had made good money through his merchant business it faltered following his death and she was unable to maintain it on her own. Ostracized by her wealthy relatives and unable to provide for her daughter, there was only one option-it was time for her to marry again.

The noblewoman soon accepted the proposal of Lord Trumpmaine, a divorced nobleman from an opulent family of low ranking nobles. Following the wedding the lord moved into the penthouse with his new bride and stepdaughter, bringing with him his own two sons from his previous marriages. The elder son was named Sanderstasia, a bespectacled child with wild white hair, while the younger was called Cruzella, a stocky dark-haired youth. Although there was no love between them Trumpmaine possessed the finances the noblewoman needed, she provided him the boost in his title and status that he desired, and their arrangement initially seemed to be an agreeable, mutually beneficial one. Alas, that was not the case. Trumpmaine was narcissistic, cruel, and abusive to the noblewoman and her daughter. He treated his sons somewhat better, they never wanted for anything, but it was obvious that they too were not worth love and affection in the lord’s eyes. Trumpmaine put massive amounts of money towards their material comfort simply because he saw them as pawns he could use for his own selfish purposes, not out of any fatherly love for them. As domestic life with Trumpmaine deteriorated further and further the noblewoman realized that she had made a grave mistake in marrying him, that regardless of the financial stability he had brought his presence in their lives was causing more harm than good. She decided she would take Cinderodham and run, money be damned. Unfortunately, the noblewoman suddenly took ill and died before she could enact this plan, which forced Cinderodham, still a child and without any blood relatives willing to take her in, to remain stuck in her stepfather’s care.

As the years went by Trumpmaine lavished his sons with the best schooling and the best clothes, and he had helped them both to secure seats within the royal court. He didn’t spend a dime on Cinderodham, who worked hard to educate herself on her own, spending hours reading in the provincial library, sewing her own outfits, and eventually, after much effort, securing a position in the court as a minister of state. She enjoyed the job, loved travelling to different kingdoms and helping maintain good relations between them and America, and she was making a name for herself within the royal court. There was even chatter about her possibly becoming queen someday, something that Trumpmaine resented. Trumpmaine was not pleased with the influence Cinderodham’s job gave her, nor was he pleased with the opportunity it might provide for her to break free from his suffocating grasp and leave home. He gave her an ultimatum-give up the job of minister of state, or get kicked out of the house. Deciding that continuing to live with her horrid family and having a roof over her head was better than escaping her family but having to fend for herself on the streets, Cinderodham reluctantly left the court, becoming imprisoned in the gilded cage that was the penthouse. She felt as if she would be doomed to this life forever, but as the kingdom’s next coronation cycle drew closer, so did Cinderodham’s chance for freedom.

A lone mouse crept along the floor of the penthouse’s smallest bedroom, making its way over to the occupied twin-sized bed. The bedsheets, drab, thinned, and worn from years of use, had been pulled up as far as they would go, effectively concealing the bed’s occupant. The bedsheets hung off the bed close enough to the floor for the mouse to grab hold of a corner and tug, pulling the sheets further down the bed in an attempt to rouse the occupant. This effort revealed a face, a beautiful one framed by locks of golden blonde hair, but the owner of that face remained asleep. The mouse tugged the sheets down a bit further, and this did rouse their sleeping friend, although it was clear she did not yet want to leave the bed. She yawned and shifted slightly, burying her face in her pillow. A few more mice had gathered with the first now; a couple climbed their way up onto the bed and approached the sleeping beauty. They nudged at their friend’s hand with their noses, only for her to tuck her hand under the pillow. Suddenly, there was a loud pounding on her door, startling the mice. The woman lifted her head, grimacing at the noise.

“It’s too early for me to deal with these two right now…” She muttered.

“Cinderodham! You’d better be awake!” The grating, nasally voice of her youngest stepbrother came through the door.

“Father has your list of chores for the day!” The equally grating, loud voice of her older stepbrother added.

“I’m up! Assholes…” She called back, saying the last part under her breath so they wouldn’t hear her. “I’ll get right on it!” The sounds of footsteps could be heard as the two stepbrothers presumably trotted off. Cinderodham shook her head as she threw the covers off and got out of bed. She quickly went about her morning routine, humming a song slightly off key as she did so. She made the bed, with the mice assisting in tucking the corners of the sheets and fluffing the pillow. She ran a bath and washed up, and when she had finished and dried off she found her outfit for the day laid out by her mouse friends. It was a fairly plain ensemble-a pale blue blouse with a dull brown coat and slacks, sensible black flats, and a simple black headband for her hair. As she was finishing dressing she heard the pitter-patter of many mouse feet on the floor and frantic squeaking. Turning around, Cinderodham was met with the sight of several mice squeezing through the crack under the door and scampering towards her. Something had riled them up, but since they were all squeaking and crying over one another she couldn’t discern what the problem was.

“One at a time, everyone! One at a time!” Cinderodham urged them, attempting to calm them down. The mice quieted, and a solitary mouse stepped forward. Cinderodham knelt down so she was closer to the mouse’s level. This mouse was one of the older and wiser ones, a sort of leader to the rest. She had brown fur and warm brown eyes and was sporting an elegant burnt orange pantsuit that Cinderodham had sewn herself. “Nancy, what’s going on?” Cinderodham asked her.

“There’s a new mouse in the penthouse!” The mouse, Nancy, announced.

“A new mouse? Oh, that’s lovely!” Cinderodham beamed. “It’s been a while since we’ve had any new mice wander in. She’ll need a pantsuit, and a necklace…“ She reached over to rummage around in an empty cookie tin atop the dresser, which she had been using to store mouse-sized outfits and accessories that she had sewn herself.

“She’s a he, actually,” Nancy clarified, “And he’s in trouble! He’s caught in one of the traps Sanderstasia set and none of us can get him out!”
“Will you show me where he is?” Cinderodham requested. “Don’t worry; I’ll be able to help him.” Nancy gave a nod and scurried off towards the door, squeezing back through the crack to get into the hall. Cinderodham grabbed a tiny blazer and tie from the cookie tin before throwing the door open and following behind Nancy. This was unfortunately a regular occurrence in their household, as her stepfather and stepbrothers absolutely despised mice and the three of them would continuously set up all sorts of terrible traps around the penthouse to take care of them if their wicked cat didn’t get to them first. Cinderodham, however, did not consider the mice to be vermin like her family did. To her, the mice were like family, the only family she felt she had, and her actual family members were the vermin. Ever since she was a young girl Cinderodham had had a great deal of affection for the mice she encountered. She would free them from the traps her family laid out, clothe them in the tiny suits she sewed, and provide them with food, and in return they gave her their companionship and did little favors for her to cheer her up when she was feeling down, trying their best to help make life in the Trumpmaine household a little more bearable for her.

Nancy finally stopped at the end of the hall, where another mouse stood guard in front of a cage trap. This mouse was a bit younger than Nancy, a bespectacled mouse with graying blonde fur and blue eyes who was dressed in a black and blue pantsuit. Cinderodham recognized her as Elizabeth, called Liz for short. She was one of the feistier mice, a fighter with a determined spirit, and when she set her mind to something she would persist until she saw it through. The latches and bars of the trap bore claw and teeth marks, which Cinderodham assumed were from Liz attempting to unsuccessfully free its prisoner. Having not noticed Cinderodham and Nancy yet Liz started to scratch and gnaw at the latch once more.

“I think I’ve almost got it this time!” She said to the trapped mouse, though it came out a bit muffled and garbled since she had said it in the midst of gnawing. “Just a little more…” Nancy decided to intervene before Liz hurt herself, scampering over to her and gently nudging her away from the latch.

“It’s okay, Cinderodham’s here now, you don’t have to wear your teeth down to the root trying to gnaw through that lock,” Nancy informed her, and then, peering between the slatted bars of the small cage, she offered the imprisoned mouse a reassuring smile. “You’ll be okay now; our friend will let you out!” The two mice stood aside as Cinderodham knelt down and undid the latches on the door of the cage.

“There you go,” She said softly, drawing the door open, “It’s open, you can come on out.” Hesitantly, the mouse emerged, and Cinderodham got a good look at him. He had gray fur and blue eyes, and he gazed up at her with a mixture of gratitude, admiration, and excitement.

“Oh, thank you all so much for saving me!” He thanked her. “I don’t know what I would have done without you!”

“You’re welcome! I’m glad you’re alright.” Cinderodham replied, “I’m Cinderodham, and I’m sorry you were trapped in there. My stepfather and my stepbrothers hate mice, but I don’t. Every mouse in this house is a friend of mine. This is for you, by the way.” She handed the mouse the little blazer and tie she’d brought, and he thanked her again and promptly slipped them on, admiring his reflection in the glossy tiled floor.

“I feel distinguished.” He chuckled.

“You’ll also need a name,” Cinderodham announced, “I’ve got one! What do you think of Timothy? We can call you Tim for short.”

“Tim… I like it!” The mouse, now known as Tim, decided. “It has a nice sound.”

“I’m afraid I have to leave now, Tim,” Cinderodham sighed sadly, “My stepfather and my stepbrothers will make things hell for me if I don’t get working soon. Nancy, Liz, why don’t you show Tim around? I’ll bring some breakfast up to my room for all of you once I get my chores underway.” Nancy and Liz both gave a nod as Cinderodham hurried off to begin her daily tasks. After introducing themselves to him Nancy and Liz started to lead Tim down the hall.

“You’ll like living here,” Nancy said to him as they trotted along, “It’s lovely. Well, aside from Mike, of course.”

“Who’s Mike?” Tim inquired.

“The family cat,” Liz clarified, “He spends most of his time at Lord Trumpmaine’s side, but when he’s left unattended he loves to terrorize the mice in the house.”

“Oh, well, I’ve met the cat already, unfortunately,” Tim sighed, “He’s got white fur and sinister eyes, right?”

“Yeah, that’s him!” Nancy confirmed. “White fur and sinister eyes.”

“He’s the reason I got caught in that trap,” Tim explained, “He spotted me and kept chasing me around until I ran in there and he couldn’t get to me, so he left. I got away unscathed, but he ran off with something important of mine that I need to get back as soon as possible!”

“Maybe we can help you go find it!” Liz offered. “It’s probably in Trumpmaine’s bedroom; Mike likes hiding all the stuff he takes in there.”

“We’ll need to come up with a plan first,” Nancy pointed out, “Come on, let’s go back to Cinderodham’s room and see if Liz and I can figure out how to help you.” Tim agreed, so the three of them scampered off to Cinderodham’s bedroom to begin plotting.

Chapter Text

While the mice were concocting their plan Cinderodham had gotten started on her usual roster of chores for the day. Sanderstasia and Cruzella, being counts in the royal court, would need to be readied to depart for the next court session. Even though Cinderodham was a member of the nobility and held both the rank of Countess and title of Minister of State she would not be going with them, as she had stopped attending the court with her family ever since Trumpmaine had forced her to resign. She longed to go back, to have that same freedom again, that same ability to do some good for her kingdom, but instead she found herself pigeonholed into serving as a meager court page for her stepbrothers, tending to the menial tasks that Cruzella and Sanderstasia refused to do themselves. They had more than enough money to hire a staff to assist them, but they took great glee in making Cinderodham do their work instead. Every morning the two of them always left a large mountain of proposals they planned to make to the court for her to proofread and organize, but before she took care of that, everyone needed breakfast, and it fell upon her to prepare and deliver it. Cinderodham stood waiting outside the door to her stepfather’s bedroom, nestling a bowl of milk and a bowl of cat food in one arm as she reached for the door handle with her free hand. She took a deep breath and, steeling herself, she carefully cracked the door open just enough to shine light on the elegant gold canopied cushion by the bedside, atop which slept a rather mean looking white cat. The light roused him, and he gave an indignant purr. As quietly as possible Cinderodham crept into the room and set the two bowls down by the cushion. The cat’s mood seemed to improve upon seeing his breakfast arrive; he stepped down from his bed and began to eat. As Cinderodham turned to leave she paused for a moment, catching sight of something shiny lying atop the vacated cushion. It was a pearl necklace, her necklace, one of the few expensive possessions she was allowed to own.

“Mike! You took my pearls again!” She complained, glowering at the cat. Mike was prone to swiping various items from around the penthouse and hoarding them in and near his bed; aside from her pearls Cinderodham could see Sanderstasia’s spare pair of glasses, Cruzella’s autobiography, and various other items. Amidst the pilfered trinkets Cinderodham also noticed a strange object that didn’t look like anything she or her stepbrothers owned. It didn’t look like one of Trumpmaine’s things either, and didn’t even look as if it belonged in their residence to begin with.

“Hey, what’s that?” She wondered aloud. She knelt down to reach out and pick it up, but before she could so much as graze it with her fingertips Mike sprung up from his meal and started hissing and swiping at her with his claws. Cinderodham yanked her hand away and jumped back, nervously glancing over at her stepfather’s bed to see if the cat had woken him. Fortunately, Trumpmaine was still fast asleep, sprawled across his gold lamé sheets with his cellphone in hand. “Okay, okay! I’m leaving! You can keep whatever it is… for now, at least.” Making a mental note to come back and retrieve everyone’s things when Mike wasn’t in the vicinity she left the room as quietly as she came, weaving her way between all the garish gold furniture and decorations that Trumpmaine had cluttered the space with. She then headed into the kitchen to finish preparing breakfast for the rest of her family. After fixing all of the food she rushed off to her room to leave a meal for her mouse friends. Cinderodham set down a small tray of fruit, pastries, and water, which a crowd of mice promptly gathered around and began to dig into. She spied Nancy, Liz, and Tim among them, happily munching on the fruit.

“Could you do us a small favor today, Cinderodham?” Nancy asked as she picked up a slice of banana.

“Of course,” Cinderodham replied, “What can I do for you?”

“Tim, Liz, and I are looking for something of Tim’s that Mike stole and we think it might be in Trumpmaine’s room,” Nancy explained, “Could you find a way to sneak us in when Mike’s not there?

“Sure, I can do that.” She agreed. “I saw something unusual lying on Mike’s bed when I went to leave his food, it might be what you’re looking for. I’ll put you in my pocket so I can carry you around with me without my family seeing you until we find a good moment for me to let you out.” Cinderodham scooped the mice up and gently tucked them one by one into the pocket of her coat. She then returned to the kitchen to grab her stepfather’s breakfast tray, deciding to visit his room first so the mice wouldn’t have to stay cooped up for very long. Sanderstasia and Cruzella were both always up by this hour either pestering her or lazing around the penthouse and would return to their rooms to eat at their desks, but Trumpmaine would likely just be waking up, as he preferred to rise much later than his sons and enjoy his breakfast in bed. Cinderodham knocked on his door to announce her presence to him.

“Come in.” She heard him call back to her. She opened the door and slipped into the room, seeing her stepfather still lying in bed, tweeting away on his phone with one hand and stroking Mike, who was curled up in his lap, with the other.

“Good morning, Stepfather.” Cinderodham greeted him in the sweetest tone she could manage despite the revulsion she felt for the man. “Here’s your breakfast.” She set the tray, containing several cans of Diet Coke and a heaping mound of fatty bacon, eggs, and toast, down on his bedside table. Trumpmaine, still gazing at his phone, gave a grunt of acknowledgement and grabbed a slice of toast off the tray, dipping one corner into a runny egg yolk before chomping down on it.

“You know what you have to do today,” He told her as he fired off another tweet, “Polish the furniture, tend to Mike, handle the tower finances, write up Sanderstasia and Cruzella’s speeches, proofread their proposals, send out emails to the subjects in their provinces asking for donations, do the shopping, the cooking-the usual. If I think of anything else I’ll yell for you.” Cinderodham gave a curt nod and was about to reach into her pocket to let the mice out when she noticed that something was amiss. Mike’s bed was now devoid of all the items he had taken.

“Stepfather, where did all of the things by Mike’s bed go?” She asked.

“Sanderstasia and Cruzella must have taken them,” Trumpmaine replied, “They came in here a few minutes ago and woke me up whining about how Mike stole their stuff so I told them to just take whatever he had by his bed and shut up or else I’d smack both of them.” Cinderodham sighed, knowing that now she would have to approach her stepbrothers to get her pearls back and that they were more likely to torment her than cooperate. The mice also had to abandon their plan for the time being, since Tim’s stolen item had been collected by the brothers as well. Leaving Trumpmaine, Cinderodham retrieved Cruzella’s tray from the kitchen and made her way to his room. Cruzella’s room was much more spacious and elegant than her own, although it was considerably smaller than her stepfather’s, and it was filled with the same gaudy style of gold furniture. Cruzella was seated at his desk with a stack of proposals perched nearby, but instead of working on them he had his diary out and was writing in it. Cinderodham also noticed that he had gotten his autobiography back from Mike’s bed; it was lying atop his dresser and so were her pearls. She would have to come back and take them later after he and Sanderstasia had left for the court.

“Good morning, Cruzella,” She greeted him, “How did you sleep?”

“Why do you care?” Cruzella scoffed, slamming his diary shut so she couldn’t see its contents, although she suspected based off of previous peeks she had taken at it while he was off at the court that he was likely writing about his massive crush on a certain count from the province of Florida. “Check my proposals for any errors and have them back in an hour, I need them done before I head out to the royal court. Also, I’m almost out of pages in my latest diary! Go get me a new one!”

“Yes, Cruzella.” Cinderodham left his tray, containing coffee, bacon, and Texas queso dip, on his desk for him and scooped up the proposals. She brought them back to her room so she could go over them later and then went to get the final tray from the kitchen. It was time to pay Sanderstasia a visit.

“Did you see any of the stuff Mike took in Cruzella’s room?” Tim asked her, peeking out of her pocket. “Anything that might belong to me?” Cinderodham shook her head.

“Nothing except for Cruzella’s autobiography and my pearls,” She replied, “What you’re looking for is probably in Sanderstasia’s room.”

“Can you let us out there?” Nancy requested. “We can look for it while he’s distracted talking to you.” Cinderodham agreed to this, and before entering her stepbrother’s room she knelt by the door and let the mice out of her pocket.

“I’ll try and keep his attention on me, but please still be careful that he doesn’t see you,” She warned them, “And make sure to watch out for his traps too.” The mice assured her that they would and discreetly scurried inside as she cracked the door open. Sanderstasia’s room was quite similar to Cruzella’s, although there were many mouse traps scattered about the floor, a blatant display of his dislike of the rodents. Sanderstasia was at his desk like his brother had been, and he also had a large stack of proposals waiting for Cinderodham. He had his computer out and was preaching on his official court Twitter account about the supposed revolution he was starting in the royal court and how he was fighting back against the establishment of mice in their home. Upon hearing his stepsister enter he turned her way and grimaced.

“Well, it’s about time you showed up with my breakfast,” He groused, “I hope you won’t take as long to go over my proposals.”

“Good morning, Sanderstasia.” Cinderodham greeted him cordially, ignoring his comment. She set Sanderstasia’s breakfast tray down for him, a not so healthy meal of cubes of Vermont cheddar cheese served with a bottle of Vermont maple syrup, and collected the waiting proposals. “I’ll get your proposals back to you as soon as possible.” Sanderstasia grumbled something about having no faith in her and her being unqualified and then started stuffing handfuls of cheese cubes into his mouth and chugging the maple syrup as if it were a beverage.

“You better,” He warned her, “Or else I’ll tell Father that you’re trying to sabotage me.” Cinderodham rolled her eyes, wanting nothing more at that moment than to leave, but she saw the mice still dashing about across the floor, carefully evading traps as they searched for Tim’s item. She had to endure Sanderstasia a little while longer, had to keep talking to keep him distracted.

“So, uh,” She started off, “Anything interesting happening in the royal court lately?” Although Sanderstasia typically avoided interacting with her unless it was to bully her she knew he enjoyed going off on long rants about the royal court and was hoping to bait him into one.

“Oh, lots is happening, all of it horrible! I haven’t gotten any proposals passed so far this year, and they’re amazing proposals-you’ve read them, you should know-so I’m convinced the other counts and countesses are trying to rig things against me!” Sanderstasia complained, “And King Obama is still trying to get Lord Garland appointed to the high court of law to fill the seat left vacant by the death of Lord Scalia, but Count McConnell of Kentucky is blocking him from doing so. Tensions with the Kingdom of Russia have also grown, and the king is worried that this could be an issue with the next coronation cycle if King Putin-what was that sound?” The two of them heard a loud, sharp noise, and Cinderodham was filled with dread. It sounded suspiciously like a mouse trap snapping down. She looked off in the direction of the noise and saw that one of Sanderstasia’s traps had indeed been set off, but much to her relief, none of her mouse friends were caught in it. She spied the three of them at its side, unharmed and trying frantically to free the tip of a strange object from the trap. Unfortunately, Sanderstasia also caught sight of them, and he let out a loud shriek. The mice abandoned the object and quickly scampered into a hole in the wall for cover as Sanderstasia threw his now empty bottle of maple syrup in their direction and ran out into the hall. The bottle hit the wall and shattered, and Cinderodham started to panic. She knew Sanderstasia was going to tell his father about this, and it wouldn’t end well for her.

“Sanderstasia! Wait!” She called out, running after him. Sanderstasia stopped, and Cinderodham came to a halt a few feet behind him as he turned to face her, looking furious. Cruzella and Trumpmaine had heard Sanderstasia’s scream and had both poked their heads out from their rooms to watch him confront his stepsister.

“You let vermin into my room!” He accused her. “Father, there were three mice crawling all over my floor! Cinderodham let them in; punish her for this!”

“Cinderodham, come here.” Trumpmaine demanded, beckoning for her to enter his room. “Close the door behind you.” Cinderodham tensed up and did as she was told as Cruzella and Sanderstasia grinned smugly. Trumpmaine, despite providing them with material comforts and career advances, could be just as abusive to the two of them as he was to Cinderodham. However, they took delight in his cruel treatment when it was directed towards someone other than themselves. With the door closed and her stepbrothers shut out Cinderodham stood alone in the darkened room, clutching Sanderstasia’s proposals to her chest and eyeing Trumpmaine, who had plopped down on the edge of his bed. Mike had hopped into his lap again, and he stroked the cat’s snowy fur as he regarded her silently, mulling over a suitable punishment for her. What would he do this time? Would he starve her? Strike her? Lock her up in her room?

“Stepfather, I-” She started to explain, but Trumpmaine wasn’t going to have any of it.

“Be quiet!” He snapped, making her wince and fall silent. “You’ve clearly got too much free time, that’s the problem here! Instead of wasting it harassing your stepbrother maybe I can have you put it to better use. I’ve thought of a few extra things for you to take care of in addition to your normal chores. The carpet hasn’t been steamed in forever, and the windows need to be cleaned too, they’re still smudged from when that ridiculous commoner tried to climb up the tower! You also need to collect rent from the tower residents, and the foliage decorating the lobby needs pruning and watering too.”

“But I just did all of that yesterday!” Cinderodham pointed out.

“Do it again!” Trumpmaine ordered her. “Oh, and the lobby also needs to be mopped, and Cruzella and Sanderstasia need a few of their suits tailored, and don’t forget to give Mike his bath!” Mike hissed at this, clearly not in the mood for bathing. Cinderodham nodded sadly, dropped the latest stack of proposals off at her room, and headed into the bathroom to draw a bath for the cat. She was glad that she wouldn’t be deprived of a meal or locked away, but being forced to do more pointless menial chores wasn’t substantially better.

“Cinderodham?” She heard a voice call out, and she recognized it as Nancy. Cinderodham glanced to her side and saw her three mouse friends emerge from behind a bottle of Cruzella’s shampoo that was sitting on the edge of the tub. They all bore contrite expressions and had their heads hung low. “We’re very sorry that we got you into trouble.” Nancy apologized.

“We found what we were looking for, but we accidentally bumped it against one of Sanderstasia’s traps while moving it and Sanderstasia noticed us before we could find a place to hide.” Liz explained.

“We’ll find a way to make it up to you!” Tim promised. “Anything you need, we’ll do our best to get it done! Can we help you with your chores?”

“I think you three are a little too small for that, but I appreciate the gesture,” Cinderodham thanked them, “It’s okay, I’m not mad at any of you, and unfortunately I’m used to being treated this way by my family. If you want I can try to get the thing you’re looking for from Sanderstasia’s room later while he’s at the royal court.”

“No no, you’ve done more than enough!” Tim assured her. “I don’t want him to notice you’ve gone through his things and go crying to his father again.”

“We’ll get it ourselves,” Liz vowed, “And we’ll get your pearls back too! We’ve got a plan for it.”

“I hope your plan works. I’d love to hear about it, but you should probably leave the bathroom before I put Mike in the tub,” Cinderodham advised them, “He gets even more unpleasant than usual around water.” Not wanting to deal with a vicious cat, the mice hopped off the edge of the tub onto a sponge on the floor below and scampered out the door. Cinderodham sighed, picked up the sponge, and went off to retrieve Mike. It was going to be a long day.

Chapter Text

While Cinderodham was going about the chores she was saddled with, in Washington Royal District, the capitol of the kingdom, America’s currently reigning king was preparing for the selection of the new king or queen to succeed him. Since America’s inception its residents could gain lesser titles of nobility through family or merit, but the crown could only be won on merit alone. Every four years any noblemen, noblewomen, or commoners who desired the crown would come to the Royal District for a massive coronation ball. At the ball the competing nobles would go before the reigning king and living former kings, then they would mingle among the subjects to present their proposed agendas. The process of selecting the new king or queen was quite simple and democratic-or, it was intended to be, at least. While residents of the kingdom who lived in Washington Royal District and in the neighboring provinces of Virginia, Delaware, and Maryland typically attended the coronation ball in person most of those who resided in the more distant provinces could not make that journey. The ball was broadcast across the kingdom via television and internet so even those who were not attending could witness it and judge the candidates for the crown, and subjects were able to vote either by paper ballot or electronically at polling stations in every province.

The coronation ball was traditionally held on the eve of the first Tuesday following the first Monday of November, but that day had finally arrived and there was a slight hiccup in the plans. With every coronation cycle the ball had a different theme, and King Obama of Illinois, the incumbent king, was tasked with selecting that theme. Unfortunately, he was having a difficult time deciding upon a suitable one. The ball was scheduled to start in mere hours, and preparation couldn’t begin until the theme was set, so King Obama had called an emergency meeting with the kingdom’s four living past kings to assist him in choosing. The five of them were seated in the elegant Yellow Oval Room of the White Palace, a fanciful, pure white castle in Washington Royal District where each king and his family resided during his rule. King Obama stood in front of the fireplace, presiding over the other kings seated around him on the plush regal sofas. The withered form of King Bush the Elder of Texas, the forty-first and oldest of the living former kings, occupied the sofa to the right of him. The king had grown rather sickly in his old age, spending much of his time now in the company of his family in the province of Texas or vacationing in the province of Maine, so King Obama appreciated that he had made the long journey to the Royal District to meet with him. Seated next to the eldest king was his son, King Bush the Younger of Texas, the forty-third king. The younger Bush had a reputation of being rather dimwitted, and King Obama disagreed with many of the decisions he had made during his reign, but he was desperate for ideas no matter who they might come from and wasn’t going to complain about his presence. On the left sofa sat another old king, King Carter of Georgia, the thirty-ninth ruler of America. Though he and the elder King Bush were the same age King Carter was much more robust and healthy in his golden years, still finding the energy and the time to travel among the various kingdoms of the world to work on humanitarian projects. King Carter could come across as arrogant or catty at times in the way he critiqued and meddled in the affairs of his fellow kings, and every other king held some animosity towards him for this, but again, King Obama was desperate for ideas, and at the very least King Carter would be more competent than either of the Bushes. The final of the living former kings sat on the same sofa as King Carter, though there was a considerable gap between the two, a visible marker of the tension between them. This final king was King Clinton of Arkansas, the forty-second to rule.

King Clinton was known for his friendliness and charm, and that combined with his good looks, his striking white hair and soft blue eyes, made him quite lucky with the ladies of the kingdom, perhaps a little too lucky for his own good. Though he’d had many a lady lover King Clinton was the only one of the former kings to not have a wife, and that was understandable given that he had a reputation for being a bit of a rakehell. In spite of his amorous dalliances that often garnered him and his various lady friends unwanted press attention he was perhaps the most successful of the former kings, and the one King Obama was most counting on for assistance in coming up with the ball’s theme. Unfortunately, even with the five of them collaborating together, they still didn’t seem to be making any progress.

“Why don’t we ask our dukes for ideas?” King Carter eventually suggested. “Shall we send for them?”

“I visited One Observatory Manor last evening to consult Duke Biden before calling upon you four, and while he’s a dear friend and I value his insight greatly he was more focused on the food than the theme,” King Obama muttered flatly, “He couldn’t think of any suggestions and kept begging me to add a buffet line of ice cream and toppings to the menu.”

“Duke Cheney wished to have a hunting themed ball, and when I advised him to come up with a different theme he suggested a waterboarding themed one. I thought he was talking about a pool activity, but he clarified that he was talking about the torture technique instead,” King Bush the Younger explained, “When I told him that wasn’t a good idea either he told me to go fuck myself. I think it was a very productive meeting! I enjoy that we have such a close friendship that he feels comfortable enough to insult me!” The other kings all rolled their eyes at his obliviousness to his duke’s blatant disdain for him.

“Duke Quayle sent me a list containing several theme ideas,” Said King Bush the Elder, “However, the list contained many misspellings that made it incomprehensible, so I’m not quite sure what exactly his suggestions were.”

“Duke Gore wished for you to hold a ball on the subject of environmental awareness, but that theme, while noble, was already used by me for the ball for the 2000 coronation cycle and all it did was make the duke and I a laughingstock,” King Clinton chimed in, “What about Duke Mondale?”

“Duke Mondale mentioned to me that he might like an art themed ball in memory of his dearly departed duchess and her passion for the arts,” Said King Carter, “A touching tribute, but perhaps a little too personal for a coronation ball.”

“Damn it!” King Obama groaned in frustration, “I have to address the royal court in an hour’s time, the ball is set to begin not too long after that, and we still don’t have a theme! I’m going to have to put on a mask of ease so none of the nobles catch on to my distress over this.”

“A mask?” King Clinton repeated, suddenly struck with inspiration. “That’s it! A mask! Your majesty, it should be a masquerade ball!” King Obama’s mood instantly shifted; he was thrilled with this suggestion! Finally, a theme he could work with!

“A masquerade? That’s a wonderful idea, King Clinton!” He beamed. “It’s simple, it can be prepared in no time at all, and I can envision a powerful message behind it! Because the nobles will come wearing masks it will emphasize the importance of the new king or queen’s character and accomplishments over their appearance. I must alert my staff to begin preparations immediately!” King Obama called upon his staff and directed them to begin working on the food and decorations, then he sent for his White Palace press secretary to get the word out to the kingdom. With a single tweet, the message was sent, and all of the eligible subjects began eagerly preparing for their chance to win the crown.

Back at the penthouse Sanderstasia and Cruzella were in the living room practicing giving speeches and debating with each other under the not so watchful eye of their father. Sanderstasia was giving a longwinded, repetitive speech about healthcare and taxes, Cruzella was dismissing all of Sanderstasia’s ideas, and Trumpmaine was ignoring both of them and tweeting. Cinderodham was in the lobby many floors below, quietly rehearsing her own speeches to herself as she mopped the floor. Her mouse friends were not with her, having retreated to the safety of her room to formulate a new plan to get Tim’s stolen item back, and Cinderodham was enjoying this moment she had in solitude. Unfortunately, she didn’t remain in solitude for very long. A loud meowing noise reached her ears, and she looked down to see Mike sitting in front of her, his fluffy white tail swaying back and forth. His paws were covered in dirt, and smudgy paw prints had been tracked from one of the lobby’s potted plants across the tiles she had just mopped up. Cinderodham grimaced; that damned cat had been playing in the soil again! If Mike had been human Cinderodham felt that he would be wearing a smug smirk right now, taking joy in creating additional messes for her to fix.

“Mike, you horrible cat!” She snapped indignantly as he scampered off towards the stairs, marring them with even more paw prints. “No wonder Stepfather likes you so much! You love making me miserable just like him!” She began to mop up the fresh paw prints, but then she heard a sudden ping on her cell phone. Cinderodham pulled it out of her pocket and saw that a notification from the Twitter account of the White Palace press secretary had popped up on the screen. The notification read “An urgent tweet from his majesty King Obama.” Intrigued by this and wanting an excuse to take a break from mopping, she rushed up the stairs to share the message with her family. Cinderodham entered the penthouse, only to see her two stepbrothers quarreling and pushing and shoving each other as Trumpmaine made halfhearted attempts to get them to cease while firing off angry tweets laden with typos.

“Your speech is awful, Sanderstasia!” Cruzella derided his brother. “The subjects of the kingdom won’t stand for you raising their taxes!”

“Well, they won’t stand for you stripping them of their healthcare!” Sanderstasia retorted. “Cruzella, do you honestly think you’ll keep your position in the court by advocating for something as abhorrent as that? I hear that Viscount O’Rourke of Texas is thinking of challenging you for your title during the next mid-reign cycle! If you wish to keep it it’d be wise of you to reconsider!”

“Knock it off, both of you! Both of your ideas are garbage!” Trumpmaine shouted, making his sons wince. “I told you that you should use mine instead! The wall around the kingdom will solve everything!” Glancing up from his phone, he finally noticed Cinderodham standing in the doorway, and he greeted her with a nasty scowl. “Why are you here? You’re gonna distract your brothers from their very very important speeches! Get back to work or I’ll lock you up in your room!”

“But the White Palace press secretary just retweeted from the King-” She started to say, although as soon as she had mentioned the king her stepbrothers clamored over and yanked her phone away from her. They started squabbling over who would get to read the tweet first before Trumpmaine finally intervened and snatched the phone from both of them.

“I’ll read it, you idiots!” He sneered, turning his nose up at them. He opened up the notification and began to read the tweet. A wicked grin slowly crept its way across his face, prompting curiosity from his stepdaughter and sons.

“What does it say, Father?” Cruzella asked.

“The royal ball to select the new king or queen is being held this evening!” Trumpmaine revealed. “The theme for this coronation cycle’s ball is masquerade, and every eligible subject of the kingdom is invited to attend it at the White Palace!”

“Finally, I get my chance to be king and take down the court establishment!” Sanderstasia cheered.

“Not if I become king first and undo all of King Obama’s wrongs!” Cruzella huffed.

“Maybe I could be queen!” Cinderodham proposed. This earned her nothing but condescending laughter from her family.

“Ha! As if the kingdom would ever select you!” Cruzella dismissed her. “You should stay home and clean and cook and knit for us like you’re supposed to, not go around politicking.”

“The kingdom would never select a woman to reign!” Sanderstasia added. “And you’re terribly unqualified!”

“I don’t think that I am,” Cinderodham replied, “I meet the age requirement, I’ve been a citizen of the kingdom since birth, and I have held the title of both countess and minister of state. I think I have a good idea of what it takes to lead the kingdom and what would be the best way to serve its subjects. Besides, it says every eligible subject is invited. I’m an eligible subject; even if I don’t become the queen shouldn’t I at least be allowed to attend and enjoy the festivities?” Her stepbrothers eyed her with contempt, while Trumpmaine regarded her quietly for a moment, as if he was calculating something sinister.

“Well, I don’t see any reason why you can’t,” He finally decided, earning appalled looks from his sons, “But you’ve gotta finish all of your chores for the day by seven this evening when the ball starts, and you’ve gotta find something nice to wear. The kingdom would never crown someone in such a sad looking pantsuit!” Cinderodham glanced down at her dull ensemble, covered in dust and grime from the menial work she’d been doing, then she looked up to meet Trumpmaine’s gaze again. She narrowed her eyes at him, knowing full well that he was playing her, that it would be nearly impossible to both complete the massive assortment of chores for the day and put together a suitable outfit, but she didn’t give away any hints of apprehension. She was determined to prove him wrong. She held her head up high and flashed a confident grin.

“Save a seat for me in the limousine.” She smirked. With that, she hurried off to finish her chores. Cruzella and Sanderstasia were furious and immediately began berating Trumpmaine.

“Father! How could you agree to let her attend the ball?” Sanderstasia shouted at him. “She’s going to rig things against me and ruin my chance to win the crown!”

“What if she does win the crown, Father?” Cruzella worried. “I’ve seen the suggestions she leaves on my proposals and speeches! She’s against everything that I’m for; she’d go completely against what I think the kingdom needs!”

“Well, she would be better than you, you ignorant fool,” Sanderstasia grumbled, “But she’s completely unqualified when compared to me! I want to be king and I deserve it much more! Father, you need to stop her from attending!”

“I won’t have to, Sanderstasia!” Trumpmaine chuckled triumphantly. “She’s not going to be coming with us!”

“But Father, you said that she could!” Cruzella pointed out.

“I did-but only if she finished all her chores and found something to wear,” He reminded his son, “And that’s not going to happen.”

“Of course!” Sanderstasia realized. “You’ve made it so that’s going to be impossible for her to do! Oh Father, that’s uncharacteristically brilliant of you!” Trumpmaine grinned, basking in that backhanded compliment.

“Yep, my IQ is one of the highest!” He boasted. “Both of your candidacies for the crown are safe, and so is mine. Now go grab your best suits and get yourselves some masks to wear, we’ve got a ball to prepare for!” Satisfied that their stepsister wouldn’t be joining them, Cruzella and Sanderstasia hurried off to begin putting together their own ensembles for the ball.

Chapter Text

Cinderodham sat on the edge of her bed, eyeing her open closet, where the few shabby suits she owned had been pushed aside to reveal a single elegant, if slightly dated, pink pantsuit draping from a bent wire hanger. A masquerade mask stuck out from one of the suit’s pockets; it was a simple faded pink mask with some rhinestones and feathers adorning it. Cinderodham smiled approvingly and turned towards her mouse friends, who were gathered at her side. She had decided to take a brief pause from her chores to tell them about the coronation ball and show them what she intended on wearing to it.

“Don’t you think this suit and this mask are lovely?” She asked them. “They belonged to my mother; she made them herself for the very first coronation ball that she ever attended. I know the suit’s a little old fashioned, but I can turn it into something more modern. What if I make some alterations and add in some accessories so it looks a little like this?” Cinderodham grabbed a fashion magazine that she’d swiped from the lobby earlier and thumbed through it until she came across the page she’d wanted to show the mice. She held it up for them to see, displaying an image of a model wearing a pink pantsuit with a stylish scarf and headband. The jacket was shorter, unlike the long coat of Cinderodham’s mother’s suit, and the pants were tapered at the ankles.

“You’d look beautiful in that!” Tim beamed.

“Yup!” Liz agreed. “Add the mask to that and you’ve got yourself a winning look!”

“How long would it take for you to put all of this together?” Inquired Nancy.

“Hopefully not too long,” Cinderodham replied, closing the magazine and setting it down on her bed, “I don’t think I’ll have a lot of time to work on it after I finish my chores. Excuse me; I have to go dust the furniture now.” She exited the room, leaving the mice alone.

“Oh, poor Cinderodham,” Tim sighed sadly, “Her family’s always pushing her around. Well, on the bright side, at least she has the ball to look forward to!”

“I don’t think she’ll be able to go to the ball,” Liz pointed out, “Her stepfather’s gonna keep piling up chores to give her! They’ll take up so much of her time that she’ll never be able to finish her suit, and she can’t go if she has nothing to wear!”

“But Liz, we know how to sew! What if we finished her suit for her?” Nancy suggested. “It wouldn’t take long at all for the three of us and the rest of the mice to tailor it!” Tim and Liz thought this was a great idea, so the three of them rallied the other mice, poked around in Cinderodham’s sewing kit for some supplies, and they all got to work trimming and threading and crafting a beautiful suit for their friend. They’d finished the alterations in no time, shortening the coat and tapering the pants, but they still needed material to fashion the scarf and headband to compliment the suit. Nancy headed off to search the rest of the penthouse for items that they could use, with Tim and Liz accompanying her. After some discussion, the three of them decided to risk entering Sanderstasia’s room again. They planned to first pilfer through his things to see if he had any materials that they could repurpose for Cinderodham’s accessories and then they would search for that mysterious item of Tim’s that was still missing. Nancy led the way through the network of holes in the walls until they came upon the one in Sanderstasia’s room that they had dashed into earlier to hide from him. Peering out from it, they saw that the room was currently occupied. Cinderodham stood there with her stepbrothers, who were shoving their nicest suits into her arms.

“Go iron these and bring them right back to us!” Cruzella demanded. “We need to look our best for the ball.”

“The ball that you won’t be attending.” Sanderstasia smirked. Cinderodham rolled her eyes and left without a word, not willing to provoke them into crying about her to Trumpmaine. With their stepsister gone, Sanderstasia and Cruzella immediately proceeded to argue about what else they should wear for the ball. Over the years they both had received a considerable collection of belts, shoes, ties, and other embellishments as gifts from their father, and they had spread them all out atop Sanderstasia’s bed to examine. Despite the wide array of choices available to them, neither of them found the various accessories to be satisfactory and casted whatever they didn’t like down onto the floor.

“I hate this belt!” Cruzella whined as he loosened the rather snug pink belt he had tried on. “I know it was a birthday present from Father, but it’s an awful color and it doesn’t fit right! I can’t wear it for the ball!”

“Well I don’t like this tie Father got me either!” Sanderstasia huffed as he held up a bright pink tie, “It doesn’t go with any of my suits!”

“Why don’t we take a break from this and go decorate our masks?” Cruzella suggested.

“Might as well; that’s a better use of our time.” Sanderstasia reasoned, “Be careful on your way out; Father will smack both of us if you get your foot caught in one of my traps again and he has to send for a doctor.” Cruzella nodded, the two of them dropped the tie and belt on the floor with their other rejected accessories, and they carefully weaved their way through the maze of mouse traps to exit the room. Once they were gone Nancy, Liz, and Tim prepared to enter, but from their hiding place they spied Mike emerging from underneath Sanderstasia’s bed. The cat hopped atop the sheets, stretched out, purred, and then settled down to nap. Figuring that they wouldn’t have any problems as long as Mike remained asleep, the mice quietly rushed out to grab the discarded belt and tie. They were the perfect shade of pink to match Cinderodham’s suit and could be easily repurposed into accessories for her. Being more mindful of the traps this time, the mice managed to get the tie back to the hole without rousing Mike. As they went back for the belt, Tim suddenly hesitated in front of the mass of other garments and baubles that Sanderstasia and Cruzella had strewn about the room. He spied a very familiar object down at the foot of the bed.

“Nancy, Liz, I’ve found my missing item!” He informed them, “Would you wait in the hole for me while I go get it?” Liz and Nancy told him they would, and the two of them carried the belt back to the hole while Tim crept out to the object. He sifted his way through crumpled shirts and dress pants, through scattered cufflinks and cummerbunds, until he finally reached what he’d been looking for, half sticking out from underneath an old blazer. Tim’s eyes lit up with delight and relief as he grabbed hold of the thing, but unfortunately for him at that very moment Mike awoke. Tim caught his eye; he glowered down at the little mouse below, hissed loudly, and pounced. He landed atop the blazer, missing Tim by mere inches, and proceeded to swipe at him with his claws. Panicked, Tim did his best to scurry off and dodge the cruel cat, although it was difficult with the object slowing him down and the mouse traps blocking his path. Thankfully Nancy and Liz intervened, scampering by on both sides of Mike to draw his attention away from Tim. Mike chased the two of them, giving Tim just enough time to flee back to the hole, and once he had made it there safely Nancy and Liz hurried off to join him. Mike tried to catch up, but in his haste he ran straight into a trap and ended up getting one of his front paws caught, stopping him in his tracks. The cat howled in pain, falling flat on his side and scratching at the trap with his free paw until it finally came loose. Mike let out a whimper that almost had the mice feeling bad for him, followed by another angry hiss in their direction, and then he limped out of the room. The mice breathed a collective sigh of relief, glad that the danger had passed.

“That was close!” Liz remarked, “But now we’ve got the last few things we need to finish Cinderodham’s suit, and Mike won’t be able to chase us around with an injured paw!”

“Yeah! And Tim managed to find… whatever that is!” Said Nancy as she eyed the strange object that their friend was holding. She hadn’t gotten a very good look at it when they’d grabbed it earlier in the day, and she couldn’t quite make out what it was now in the darkness of the hole, but it appeared to be some kind of slender stick. Deciding not to ask any questions about it, she led Tim and Liz back to Cinderodham’s room so they could add the final touches to the suit.

It was nearly seven in the evening now, and the ball would be starting soon. Cinderodham was overcome with despair as she finished sponging the large glass doors leading from the tower’s lobby out to the street. Her chores were finally done, but she had absolutely no time to fix up her suit! Through the freshly cleaned glass she spied the chauffer pulling Trumpmaine’s garish golden limousine up to the curb, and with a heavy heart she went to let her family know that their ride had arrived. She returned to the penthouse, where she found Trumpmaine and her stepbrothers putting their masks on. Sanderstasia and Cruzella had made fairly standard masks, decorated with a bit of paint and feathers, while Trumpmaine had obnoxiously covered his in gold glitter that flaked off onto his face and suit like sparkly dandruff whenever he moved.

“Stepfather, the limo is out front.” Cinderodham informed him.

“And you still don’t have a suit to wear for the ball! Sad!” Trumpmaine replied, his voice laced with mock pity. “Well, guess you aren’t coming with us this year!”

“Don’t worry, when it’s over with and I’m crowned the next king I’ll tell you all about it!” Sanderstasia taunted her, wearing a smug grin.

“Not if I become king instead!” Cruzella scoffed. Cinderodham didn’t reply; she was feeling exhausted from all the chores and decided she would rest for a while. As her stepfather and stepbrothers departed for the elevator she went to her room and immediately flopped down onto the bed, burying her face in her pillow.

“Well, maybe next coronation cycle I’ll be able to go…” She thought to herself. She tried to shove her sadness aside and doze off, but the unmistakable sound of little mouse feet scampering across the floor hit her ears. Lifting her head, she noticed that her mouse friends had gathered at her bedside, and they all looked rather excited about something.

“Cinderodham! There you are! We’ve got a surprise for you!” Nancy announced. She gestured towards the closet, and the rest of the mice ran over to pry the doors open, revealing their handiwork to their human friend. They had fashioned Sanderstasia’s pink tie into a scarf and used a portion of Cruzella’s belt to shape a headband, which, along with the mask, were proudly displayed next to the newly tailored pantsuit. Cinderodham’s eyes widened in shocked delight.

“Oh wow!” She gasped. “You put this together just for me? Oh, thank you all so much! I can’t thank you enough for what you’ve done tonight!” She was so touched that her friends had given her such a special gift, had saved her chance to attend the ball.

“Hurry up and get dressed before the limo leaves without you!” Liz urged her.

“We believe in you, Cinderodham!” Tim cheered her on. “We know you’ve got it in you to be queen!” Cinderodham smiled, her confidence bolstered by her friend’s kind words. She thanked the mice once again and rushed to put on her suit and mask. Meanwhile, Trumpmaine, Sanderstasia, and Cruzella were just stepping out of the elevator into the lobby. As they walked towards the doors Trumpmaine told his sons of his plan to secure the crown.

“Okay, so I’m gonna try and become king, right? But if I’m not the next king, then one of you needs to be, so you better not screw this up tonight!” He lectured them, “If you can’t win over the subjects of America you can always resort to seducing one of the kings! By working your way into a king’s bed you’re sure to win the crown!” Neither Sanderstasia nor Cruzella seemed enthused about potentially whoring out for a king.

“But Father, we can’t do that! None of the kings are my type!” Cruzella lamented. “And they’re all so old!”

“I’m not crawling into bed with another man!” Sanderstasia refused. “I don’t swing that way.”

“Then you’d better hope you win enough support to get the crown without having to bang a royal!” Trumpmaine huffed, “Come on, into the limo!”

“Wait for me!” A voice called out to them, bringing them to a halt. The three men grimaced, recognizing it as Cinderodham. They turned in her direction and saw her hurrying down the stairs, breathless but beautiful in her pink suit and mask. Sanderstasia and Cruzella were instantly jealous of her. How were they supposed to get the attention of the kingdom’s subjects or the kings when she was dressed in such an eye-catching ensemble? The two of them were going to blend into the crowd compared to her! Trumpmaine was furious that his stepdaughter had somehow managed to put together an outfit in such little time, but he tried not to let it show.

“Cinderodham,” He greeted her coldly, “You finished your suit. How… tremendous. How very tremendous.” Cinderodham could sense the animosity from her family, could see the hatred and envy in their eyes as they glared at her. It made her uneasy, but she held her head high and flashed them a grin, determined not to let them get to her.

“So, what are we still standing here for?” She smirked. “The limo’s waiting.” Sanderstasia and Cruzella clung to their father and began whining at him to do something, both brothers unwilling to accept that their stepsister would be attending. Trumpmaine gripped each of them hard by the shoulder, making them wince, and drew them in close.

“Knock it off! I know how we can still win!” He hissed quietly. Letting them go, he approached Cinderodham, examining her suit more closely. He ran his fingers along her cheek, making her shiver with disgust, and brought his hand up to stroke her headband. “That’s a nice headband you’ve got there. Is it leather? It looks just like that pink leather belt I bought Cruzella for his birthday last year. And that scarf,” He continued, trailing his hand down to Cinderodham’s neck and hooking his fingertips into her scarf, “Pink silk, like that tie I got Sanderstasia when he first joined the court.”

“Hey! That is Cruzella’s belt!” Sanderstasia realized. “And that’s my tie!”

“Oh, you crooked thief!” Cruzella wailed. “I loved that belt, and you stole it from me!”

“You think you can just come into our rooms and take things that rightfully belong to us?” Sanderstasia snapped angrily. “Well, we’re going to take them back! Let’s get her, Cruzella!” Trumpmaine shuffled aside as his sons descended upon their stepsister, pulling and tugging and clawing at her and her outfit as she attempted to fend them off. Trumpmaine made no effort to break up the fight; he trotted over to the lobby desk, grabbed a Diet Coke can from the mini fridge behind it, and popped it open with an audible fizz. He took out his phone and scrolled through Twitter while he chugged the soda, ignoring his children and reading all of the tweets about the upcoming royal ball as he fired off a few jabs towards King Obama to stir up controversy and get noticed. After a few minutes Trumpmaine’s thirst had been quenched and his desire for attention had been sated, so he tossed the now empty Coke can aside, pocketed his phone, and turned back to the scuffle.

“That’s enough, boys! Stand down!” He commanded his sons, “I think you’ve taught Crooked Cinderodham a lesson. Get in the limo; we need to leave now or we’re gonna be late.” Sanderstasia and Cruzella let their stepsister go and made their way out to their ride. Cinderodham didn’t join them; she hadn’t been injured, though her suit and accessories were in tatters and her hair was in disarray. Trumpmaine regarded her for a moment, taking glee in the sight of her standing there in an unsightly mess of torn fabric. Now he would never have to worry about her becoming queen. He grinned an absolutely wicked grin, then went to accompany his sons, leaving Cinderodham alone in the lobby to watch them drive off into the distance. Shaken up from the fight and not knowing what else to do, she slumped down against one of the lobby benches and cried. Nancy and Liz scurried out from behind one of the nearby plants.

“We saw all of that,” Nancy told Cinderodham, resting one of her paws gently on her leg, “I’m so sorry they did that to you. They always have to resort to unfair tricks to knock you down and get you out of their way; it says way more about them than it does about you.”

“We can fix your suit up so you can still go to the ball,” Liz offered, “It won’t take very long! All we need are some needles and a little thread and we can make it good as new!”

“No you can’t,” Cinderodham choked out between a sob, “There’s not enough time. I had this one chance to become queen, I did everything I could to go to the ball, and they played dirty and took it away from me. I’ve got an absolutely rotten family!”

“Your family might be rotten, but you’ve still got us, your friends,” Nancy reassured her, “You’ve got me, Liz, Tim-speaking of Tim, where did he go off to?” Tim had been watching with her and Liz but had disappeared somewhere soon after Sanderstasia and Cruzella had attacked.

“I’m not sure; I don’t see him anywhere. Hey, what are these?” Liz inquired as a cloud of shimmering, sparkling particles began filling the air. Before Cinderodham could ask what she was talking about, she suddenly felt that her face was no longer pressed against the frigid gold bench. Her cheek was pressed against something soft and warm, and she felt a gentle hand stroking her hair. She lifted her head and saw that a man was sitting on the bench, and she was resting against his leg. The man was wearing a blue cloak with a hood, held closed by a dark pink ribbon tied in an elegant bow, and underneath that he wore khakis and a dark pink button up shirt. His sudden appearance had startled Cinderodham, but he didn’t give off a negative presence. He exuded only benevolence and kindness, and for some reason that she couldn’t quite put her finger on he looked extremely familiar to her.

“Who are you?” She asked him. “Where did you come from?”

“I am called Kaine,” He introduced himself, “But you know me by a different name. You know me as Tim.” Cinderodham was in disbelief. How was this possible?

“What? But you were a mouse until just now!” She exclaimed, “You’re really a human?” Tim gave an amused chuckle at this.

“I’m a fairy, actually!” He revealed. “This is my true form, but I can shapeshift into whatever form I please. However, this only works as long as I’m wielding my wand to channel my magic.” He held up and gestured to a thin silver stick, and Cinderodham recognized it as the strange item she’d seen in Mike’s bed that morning. “Your stepfather’s cat managed to get ahold of my wand while I was doing some exploring in the form of a mouse, and then he chased me into that trap, which is how you all found me. Thank you for being so kind to me, Cinderodham, and thank you Liz and Nancy for helping me get my wand back.” The two mice grinned appreciatively, and Cinderodham managed to offer up a smile too in spite of her distress.

“You’re welcome, Kaine,” She replied, “I only wish that I could have gotten to see your true form under better circumstances.”

“But circumstances can be better!” Kaine assured her. He tapped the tip of his wand against his palm, causing a tissue to materialize. He handed it to Cinderodham, and she used it to blot away her tears. “Dry your eyes, Cinderodham! You’re going to that ball! It’ll just take a little magic and… that soda can!” Kaine gestured to the Diet Coke can that Trumpmaine had discarded on the ground.

“That soda can?” Cinderodham repeated, feeling confused. “How will that help?”

“Wait and see!” Kaine laughed with a twinkle in his eye. The fairy tapped his wand against his palm once more, causing a harmonica to materialize, and he began to dance around and play a cheerful tune, interspersing it with whimsical rhymes and song as Cinderodham and the mice looked on. “Now your eyes are dried and you’ve got a sweet ride, bibbidi bobbidi boo!” Kaine pointed his wand at the Coke can and shot a bolt of magic in its direction. The can started to roll towards the exit; Kaine danced over to the door and nudged it open with his foot, letting the can roll into the street. The can began to transform in a cloud of more shimmering particles, growing in size and changing in shape until it resembled a sleek silver limo.

“Oh, it’s wonderful!” Cinderodham beamed. “It’s way nicer than my stepfather’s! Thank you!”

“It’s beautiful!” Said Liz. “Just imagine the looks on all the other nobles’ faces when you show up to the ball in that!”

“I wish that we could go to the ball too,” Nancy sighed longingly, “Although I know that we wouldn’t be welcome. The noblemen and noblewomen would think we were vermin.”

“But you can go too!” Kaine announced. “Tonight, Liz and Nancy, you’ll be nobility, bibbidi bobbidi boo!” He turned to Nancy and Liz and shot two bolts of magic at them. One of them hit Liz, but the other missed Nancy and shot off into a dark corner of the lobby. It must have struck something-or someone, rather-as a startled screech was heard. Liz was enveloped in a sparkling cloud, and when the cloud dissipated there was a human woman standing in her place. The woman had blonde hair cropped short, sported a pair of glasses perched upon her nose, and was wearing a suit that reminded Cinderodham of the one she had sewn for Liz-entirely black except for the bright blue blazer. It didn’t take her and Nancy long to realize that it was Liz, but transformed. Liz held her hands out in front of herself, eyes wide in amazement over her new form.

“Oh my God!” She gasped. “I’m a human!”

“And Nancy should be too, but… oh gosh, who did I hit? This could be bad!” Kaine worried. Everyone looked towards the dark corner and watched as a figure began to emerge from the shadows. A well-dressed man shuffled out before them into the light, a man with hair as snowy white as Mike’s fur and those same sullen, sinister eyes. It became very clear that this was indeed Mike, accidentally transformed into a human man. Before anyone could stop him Mike swiped some money from the lobby desk, scampered out to the street, and hailed a taxi to take him to god knows where. They didn’t decide to chase after him; he wasn’t bothering them so they didn’t care what he got up to. With Mike out of the way, Kaine hastily concluded his song.

“Oh what a shame, I must work on my aim, bibbidi bobbidi boo!” Aiming his wand correctly this time he sent another bolt of magic Nancy’s way. Another shimmering cloud dissipated to reveal a second woman in Nancy’s place. She had shoulder length brown hair and was clad in a fanciful burnt orange suit. Nancy looked down at herself and smiled, pleased with the form Kaine had given her.

“Nice work, Kaine!” She commended him. “What about our masks, though? We’ll need some for the ball.”

“Check your pockets,” Kaine instructed them, “They’ll be in there. The limo is all yours, ladies! Have a great night!” Liz and Nancy reached into their pockets and each withdrew a mask, a blue one for Liz and an orange one for Nancy to match their suits. They put them on and rushed off to the limo, looking forward to the fun of mingling with the nobility. However, Cinderodham hesitated to follow them. There was still one last thing to take care of.

“Oh, well, thank you Kaine, but-“ She started to say, although Kaine cut her off.

“Now now, don’t try to thank me,” He insisted, “It was my pleasure! All I want in return for this is for you three to have a wonderful time!”

“I know,” Cinderodham replied, “But don’t you think my suit-"

“Yes, it’s lovely, absolutely lov-good gosh, Cinderodham!” Kaine gasped, finally remembering the ruined state of her attire, “You can’t go dressed like that! Now, let’s see what I can do about this…” Kaine went up to her and began measuring her with his wand. “Your size, and the color of your eyes, mhm… something stately, but stunning too! Just leave it to me what a suit this will be, bibbidi bobbidi boo!” With a wave of his wand Cinderodham became enveloped in a dazzling shimmer of sparkles, and her tattered pink ensemble transformed into a gorgeous silver blue pantsuit.

“Oh, it’s a beautiful suit!” She beamed, twirling about happily, “Did you ever see such a beautiful suit? And you gave me some gloves too! What a nice touch!” She held up her hand, admiring the shiny silver satin gloves she’d been given. She gazed down at her reflection in the freshly polished floor, seeing that a sparkling mask the same color as her suit stuck out from one of her pockets and a silver headband now held her hair back. Kaine smiled at her, absolutely overjoyed that she was satisfied with his handiwork.

“I’m glad that you like it! Now hurry off to the ball,” He urged her, “It’s going to start soon!” Cinderodham put her mask on and was about to join her friends in the limo, but she paused for a moment more and turned back to Kaine.

“Why don’t you come with us, Kaine?” She offered. “Surely you’d like to attend the ball too; the three of us would love your company. And who knows? Perhaps you could be crowned king!”

“Oh, I don’t think anyone would want me as their king!” Kaine chuckled bashfully, “A duke, perhaps, but certainly not a king.”

“I want you there as my friend,” Cinderodham told him, “Even if you aren’t interested in becoming king we’d be delighted by your company.”

“If you really will have me I’ll go with you,” Kaine agreed, “Just a moment, please. Let me throw something nice on.” He waved his wand, enveloping himself in a shimmer of magic, and when it dissipated he was wearing a fancy blue blazer and pink tie with his khakis. He used his wand to conjure up a mask for himself and then he and Cinderodham got into the limo to begin the journey to the ball.

Chapter Text

The ride to the ball was uneventful for Cinderodham and her friends, but as they got out of the limo, donned their masks, and made their way towards the White Palace there was something that Kaine remembered he had to disclose to everyone.

“The spells I used won’t last forever,” He told them as they walked, “They’re only good until midnight, and once the clock strikes twelve my magic will be undone. We should make sure to leave before then.”

“That’s plenty of time,” Cinderodham replied, “We’ll definitely be out of there before your spells wear off.”

“Oh, I was really starting to like being human!” Liz sighed sadly.

“Is there any way you could turn us human permanently, Kaine?” Nancy asked. “Or is your magic always this temporary?”

“I can turn you permanently, if you’d like,” Said Kaine, “All I have to do is recast the spell and brew a potion for you to drink. The potion ensures that the spell remains permanent; I have everything I need to brew it at my residence in the province of Virginia and I can take you and Liz there once the ball is over.” Liz and Nancy agreed, and they soon found themselves at the White Palace’s regal entrance. A pair of palace servants met them at the door and guided them inside to the ballroom where the kingdom’s nobles had gathered. It was a breathtaking sight-counts, countesses, viscounts, viscountesses, barons and baronesses, nobles of all ranks and ages from each of the fifty provinces mingled with each other under the soft light of crystal chandeliers. Cinderodham and her friends couldn’t see the kings or dukes anywhere because of how big the crowd was, but they assumed that they all must be nearby. It was tradition for them to preside over the festivities and to formally welcome every noble vying for the crown. Nancy and Liz dispersed among the crowd to enjoy their brief period of humanity, while Kaine stayed by Cinderodham’s side.

“Look over there, Cinderodham!” Kaine pointed out excitedly as they weaved their way through the masses, “That’s where you can address the kingdom!” There was a podium set up with cameras trained on it, broadcasting live video across all the provinces. Every noble who wanted to compete for the crown had the opportunity to step up to the podium and make their case to the subjects over the video; a young Count was just finishing his speech. He had dark hair and light brown skin, and though he wore a mask Cinderodham knew just who he was.

“That’s Count Rubio of Florida,” Cinderodham informed Kaine, “The object of Cruzella’s desires.” She grew somewhat uneasy; if Rubio was here then Cruzella had to be somewhere close. Though he was too shy and too afraid of rejection to make his infatuation known to the other Count, Cruzella liked to do what could only be described as stalking, following his love around in secret. Cinderodham was worried that in trailing Count Rubio her stepbrother would happen upon her. She tried to conceal herself further in the crowd but Kaine grabbed hold of her arm, stopping her.

“Where are you going?” Kaine asked her. “Don’t you want to make your case to the subjects? You want to try and earn the crown, right? Well, go ahead! Count Rubio’s done, see?” Count Rubio bade the watching subjects farewell, stepped away from the podium, and disappeared among the other nobles. Cinderodham eyed the podium longingly; she wanted to take her chance to earn the crown, but what if her wicked family spied her while she was addressing the kingdom? Cruzella had likely moved on from wherever he was watching from the shadows to follow the Count, but she had no idea where Sanderstasia or Trumpmaine could be. Had they made their cases to the kingdom yet? What if they came by while she was at the podium? The mask and the soft lighting helped to conceal her identity, but they would definitely recognize her voice! Even Trumpmaine, dense as he was, would recognize it! She cautiously glanced around, and they didn’t appear to be anywhere nearby.

“Alright,” She finally decided, “I’ll give it a shot, Kaine. Keep an eye out for my family.” Kaine gave a nod and started keeping watch while Cinderodham approached the podium. She gave a beautiful speech; some of the other nobles had even gathered around to watch while they waited for their own turns, and her eloquence and careful thought seemed to be making some of them quite nervous about their own chances.

Meanwhile, King Obama and the four past kings stood together at the far end of the ballroom, gathered in a small clearing where an elegant red carpet branched out from the masses of noblemen and noblewomen. The kings were dressed formally and were wearing masks, ready to receive the nobility eligible for the crown. Each king was accompanied by his respective duke, his second in command during his reign. There was the elderly Mondale, Duke of Minnesota, the dimwitted Quayle, Duke of Indiana, the wooden Gore, Duke of Tennessee, the conniving Cheney, Duke of Wyoming, and the boisterous Biden, Duke of Delaware. As the currently serving duke, it was Duke Biden’s task to be the first to welcome each noble that stepped forth and escort them down the carpet to the kings. A very familiar pair of brothers emerged before him and gave a respectful bow, which the duke returned.

“Now presenting Count Sanderstasia of Vermont and Count Cruzella of Texas, sons of Lord Trumpmaine of New York!” Duke Biden announced. He turned on his heel and led Sanderstasia and Cruzella to the kings and dukes. The brothers removed their masks and bowed before the royals. The kings and dukes bowed back, and Sanderstasia and Cruzella put their masks back on before hurrying away to mingle. Another noble was waiting, and Duke Biden went to greet them, but he stopped in his tracks when he saw who it was. The unnaturally orange lord gave a bow, and as he leaned his head forward Duke Biden could see flecks of gold glitter flaking off his mask onto the carpet. Biden hesitated a moment, quickly returned the bow, and led the noble to the kings, a puzzled look on his face.

“Now presenting… Lord Trumpmaine of New York, I guess?” The duke announced. The kings and other dukes seemed to share his confusion. None of them had expected this particular lord to compete for the crown, thinking that he was content with his wealth and status as they were. His entrance into the competition was unexpected, and unfortunate. Trumpmaine gave a smug grin, removed his mask, and bowed before the kings and dukes. All of the royalty sported expressions ranging from uncomfortable to horrified, with the exception of Duke Quayle and Duke Cheney. Duke Quayle appeared alarmingly excited by the lord’s presence, while Duke Cheney bore an expression of reserved approval. Trumpmaine disappeared back into the crowd, though the kings and (most of) the dukes remained unsettled by his presence.

Cinderodham was finishing her speech, and Kaine and the spectating nobles seemed moved and awed by her words. She gave a soft smile, hoping that the kingdom’s subjects would be just as impressed.

“What’s your name, your title, and what province are you from?” One of her spectators called out, and she recognized him as Viscount Swalwell from California. “You didn’t state them at the beginning of your speech.” Cinderodham was about to reply, but out of the corner of her eye she saw Kaine frantically getting her attention, and as she turned to face her friend a sense of panic washed over her. Sanderstasia, Cruzella, and Trumpmaine were all approaching! She dashed off into the crowd to hide without another word, Kaine following close behind her. Viscount Swalwell raised an eyebrow at this, shrugged it off, and then stepped up to the podium to make his own speech as Trumpmaine and his sons got in line behind him.

Cinderodham made her way deeper and deeper into the masses of people, and somewhere along the way she became separated from Kaine. She surveyed the room, trying to see if she could spot her friend at all, but he was nowhere to be found. Cinderodham flinched as she felt a pair of strong hands come to firmly grasp her shoulders. Had Kaine caught up to her? Or had her wicked family spotted her and given chase? Turning around, it was not her friend or family that she came face to face with, but Duke Biden.

“Good evening, noble guest!” The duke greeted her cheerfully. “I don’t believe you’ve gone before the kings yet! If you’ll come with me, I’ll present you to them.”

“Oh no, that’s not necessary, I’m-“ Before she could finish explaining the duke had grabbed hold of her shoulders once more and was ushering her away.

“Now presenting… what’s your name?” Duke Biden asked her. “What province do you hail from, and what’s your title?” Cinderodham felt like screaming internally; it was rather hard to enjoy the ball when she was constantly trying to avoid being spotted by her family, and Duke Biden announcing her presence, shouting her name and title for all to hear, would definitely give her away. An alias was needed.

“I’m… Hillary,” She told the duke, “Your grace, may I go before the kings at a later time?”

“Oh, feeling a little nervous to be in the presence of royalty?” Biden chuckled good-naturedly. “Well, you have nothing to worry about! They’re all nice guys; they aren’t gonna start interrogating or judging you! Their role here is ceremonial; it’s the subjects of the kingdom who will judge your fitness for the crown, not the kings.”

“Yes I’m sure the kings are delightful, but I have a… well, a bit of a problem,” Cinderodham mumbled uneasily, unsure of how to convey things to the duke, “I’ve had a falling out with a few other nobles who are attending the ball tonight. They don’t know that I’ve come here to compete for the crown, and you announcing me to the kings might alert them to my presence. Can I come find you later once I’m certain that they’ve left the ball?” She figured that Trumpmaine, Sanderstasia, and Cruzella would be gone before midnight, giving her plenty of time to go before the kings. Sanderstasia hated all of the other nobles in the court, Cruzella was hated by all of the other nobles in the court, and Trumpmaine would rather be at home firing off late night tweets than in a crowded ballroom. There was no reason for them to stay after they were introduced to the royalty and had finished their speeches.

“That’s fine, take your time,” Duke Biden agreed, “If you need me I’ll be over there enjoying the ice cream!” He let go of Cinderodham and hurried off to the ice cream buffet, which, after much begging and pleading, he had finally convinced King Obama to add to the ball. Unable to find Kaine, Nancy, or Liz, Cinderodham decided to sneak off deeper into the palace by herself to lay low until the nobles began leaving. The kings had decided to take a break from receiving the nobility for a while and had retired to a private chamber on the palace’s third level to drink and converse in private. They told jokes, many at the expense of their dukes, they discussed King Putin’s concerning moves, and they eventually got onto the subject of who the next king or queen’s consort would be.

“Most of the noblemen and noblewomen vying for the crown are married, but there are a few who aren’t, like Count Graham of South Carolina,” Bush the Younger observed, “What a lonely life that must be! I enjoyed ruling with my lovely Queen Laura at my side, I couldn’t imagine not having her there.”

“And I couldn’t imagine ruling without your mother alongside me,” Bush the Elder added, “Even after so many years of marriage I’m still so deeply in love with my dear Queen Barbara.”

“I feel the same about my sweet Queen Rosalynn,” Said King Carter, “There’s no other woman in the kingdom but her who I’d have wanted to spend my life with.”

“My darling Queen Michelle has been a cherished partner, both in our marriage and in my court,” King Obama said with a smile, “But we’ve had plenty of unmarried kings, including King Clinton here.”

“Maybe you’ll meet someone special at the ball tonight, Clinton.” Bush the Younger suggested. “A fair countess, perhaps?”

“A fair countess who will then be in his bed not ten minutes after they meet and gone before the sun rises the next day,” King Carter grumbled, taking a rather shady swig of his wine, “He’s not looking to settle down, he’s only out to have fun.”

“Nothing wrong with having a little fun, Carter!” King Clinton laughed, “Besides, I don’t think marriage is for me. I’ve never had any interest in getting married.”

“Never?!” Bush the Younger gasped. “But aren’t you lonely? I mean, I know you certainly aren’t lonely in bed… but when the ladies leave your embrace don’t you long for companionship? Don’t you long for someone to talk with and spend time with outside of the bedroom?”

“I have my friends for companionship, my lady friends for sex,” King Clinton replied, “I’m always good to my ladies and they’re good to me, but none of us have ever really been matches when it comes to companionship. It might seem a strange arrangement to all of you, but I’m perfectly happy with it.”

“Well, whatever works for you,” Bush the Elder said with a shrug, “Marriage doesn’t suit everyone.”

“If you’ll excuse me gentlemen, now that I’ve had my fill of companionship for the evening I think I’ll seek out someone who can meet my other need,” King Clinton leered, setting down his empty glass and rising from his seat, “I’m going to see if I can get any of the noblewomen to take off their masks-and everything else-for me.” The other kings winced at his dirty comment and returned to their wine as he snuck off in search of a lady to entertain him for the evening.

With all of the formalities now out of the way, Cruzella and Sanderstasia had decided to have a little fun on the dance floor. Trumpmaine had left them for the buffet, which neither brother really minded all that much, as they were glad to have a break from their father’s constant criticism and his urging them to sleep with the kings. Even with that weight lifted from their shoulders Cruzella still seemed unable to focus on having a good time. He was distracted, his eyes constantly roaming the ballroom. Sanderstasia was about to ask him what he was looking at, but he didn’t need to, for he saw it himself. Cruzella’s sights were trained on Count Rubio, who was conversing with Count McConnell of Kentucky across the room.

“Oh, that Count Rubio!” Cruzella swooned, “Don’t you think he’s dreamy, Sanderstasia?” Sanderstasia did not in fact think that the count was dreamy.

“I guess.” He said with a shrug. “Say, who’s that noblewoman over there? I don’t think I’ve seen her in the court before, but she’s very beautiful. I wonder if I should go talk to her.” Sanderstasia’s gaze had drifted away from the two counts to a blonde woman dressed in blue. She stood by the bar, enjoying a beer as she chatted with Count Schumer of New York.

“Sorry Sanderstasia, but I think she’s taken,” Cruzella pointed out, momentarily tearing his eyes away from his beloved Rubio, “She must be Count Schumer’s plus one for the ball!”

“Schumer’s plus one?” Sanderstasia scoffed. “No way! She doesn’t seem like his type!” And evidently, she was not, because another woman, a brunette in orange, approached the bar and asked the count if he’d like to dance with her. Count Schumer accepted, and they headed off to go for a waltz. Sanderstasia grinned a devious grin, pleased that the object of his infatuation was now free for the taking. Cruzella sighed and shook his head.

“You’re impossible,” He groused, “Well, I suppose I’ll leave you to your lady love. I have a count to pine after.” Cruzella moved in closer to Count Rubio as his brother made his way to the bar.

Liz was having the time of her life, enjoying her new human state and sampling the various craft beers that the king had selected for the ball. Nancy hadn’t joined her for drinks, having been much more interested in discussing kingdom policy with the other nobles. Liz had had an interesting chat with Count Schumer, and he had recommended a fine beer from one of the New York province breweries to her, but Nancy had come by and whisked him away to talk about court legislation over a dance, and Liz found herself alone. She was glad that Nancy was having a good time, and hopefully Kaine and Cinderodham were as well, wherever they had gone off to, but Liz did admit that it was a bit lonely drinking by herself. Fortunately, she was soon to have some company. Unfortunately, it was not the sort of company she wanted.

“Hello, my lady.” Liz nearly choked on her beer when that familiar grating voice hit her ears.

“Sanderstasia!” She sputtered in shock, whipping around to come face to face with the man, who was looking decidedly less sour than usual.

“How do you know my name?” Sanderstasia asked. “I don’t think we’ve met before.”

“I… no, we haven’t,” She acknowledged, quickly thinking up an excuse, “But I heard your name when you and your brother were presented to the kings! Yeah, that’s how I know it!”

“Well, I would have been disappointed in myself if I had met you and not remembered you! It’d be a crime to forget such a lovely face.” Sanderstasia flirted. He took Liz’s hand and pressed a gentle kiss to it. She wrinkled her nose in disgust, but he didn’t seem to notice. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, my lady. What’s your name and title?”

“My name is… Warren,” Liz replied, making up a name on the spot, “Countess of, uh… Massachusetts!”

“Well then, Countess Warren of Massachusetts, would you care to dance with me?” Liz didn’t want to incur his famously bad temper by rejecting him, so she agreed and hoped that he’d be distracted by something after one dance so she could return to the beer. Sanderstasia led her onto the dance floor and the two began to waltz in time with the band. Sanderstasia struck up a conversation with her as they danced, and he was surprisingly charming and romantic, something she had not been expecting from him given his temper and callousness towards Cinderodham. Perhaps that was simply a persona he put on to please his father and brother, and that in truth there was some untapped warmth and tenderness beneath his abrasive exterior. Maybe she could melt his icy heart and bring those good qualities to the surface. Sanderstasia leaned in to kiss Liz, and she didn’t pull away. He tasted like maple syrup, saccharine sweet, deceptively sweet.

“What if I wanted to be queen, Sanderstasia?” She inquired as they parted lips. “Would you support me?”

“Oh, hell no!” Sanderstasia chuckled, “I want the crown for myself, my dear, and if you were competing to be queen you’d be an obstacle to me getting it. I’d gladly toss you aside and do everything in my power to thwart your chances. Not like you’d have a chance to begin with; the kingdom would never elect a woman to be queen, and you aren’t even competing for the crown this coronation cycle, so fortunately for me I don’t even have to think about destroying you and I can focus on loving you.” He kissed her again, and Liz winced at the contact, no longer finding the experience pleasant. She realized in that moment that she had fucked up, to put it mildly, and had been wrong in her assessment of him. She’d let him romance her and get into her head, she’d let him toy with her mind, and she felt ashamed with herself for letting it happen. Liz had seen how he treated Cinderodham and she’d experienced his wrath as a mouse, he was doing nothing more than putting on a front to win her over.

“Well then,” She mumbled awkwardly, “I suppose I’ll just remain a countess.”

“There’s still one way you could become a queen without interfering in any of my plans,” Sanderstasia pointed out, “You wouldn’t be ruling, you’d only be handling ceremonial duties, but you’d still have the title of queen.”

“What do you mean?” Liz asked for clarification. “How could I become a queen if I wasn’t competing for the crown against you?”

“You could marry me!” Said Sanderstasia, a little too jubilantly for Liz’s liking.

“Marry you?” She scoffed. “What the hell? We share one dance and a couple of kisses and you’re already talking marriage?”

“I don’t expect you to marry me tonight, my lady, but I will win your hand eventually!” Sanderstasia vowed, “For now, why don’t you and I steal away to one of the palace’s guest rooms? We can do much more than dancing and kissing there.” While Sanderstasia had managed to get into her head, Liz was not about to let him get into her pants. Sanderstasia leaned in to kiss her once more, and she leaned back as far as she was able to in his grasp. She felt someone else come along and grab her by the arms, yanking her out of Sanderstasia’s hold. Much to her relief, it was Nancy who had come to her aid.

“I have to go now, sorry Sanderstasia!” Liz apologized, feigning regret in her tone, “This is my friend, uh…”

“Viscountess Pelosi of California,” Nancy helpfully finished, “I hope you don’t mind me stealing her away from you for a bit. Count Schumer told me that the palace’s rose garden was simply beautiful and the two of us just have to go see it!” Liz happily took this excuse to abandon Sanderstasia, and she and Nancy hurried off together. Sanderstasia gave an indignant huff and went to seek out his brother.

Cinderodham had been exploring the rest of the palace for some time now, glad to have a break from the hubbub of the ballroom. There were a few other nobles she encountered here and there, mostly couples who had gone seeking places to smooch and touch in private, but other than that her tour was conducted in silent solitude. Cinderodham decided to visit the King Truman Balcony for a little while to get some fresh air. She had exited onto the balcony’s left side and was leaning against the railing, arms folded atop it as she looking out upon the kingdom. The King Washington Monument loomed in the distance, partially obscured by the magnificent trees sprouting from the palace’s south lawn. It was such a tranquil, beautiful view, much nicer than the view she had from her tiny room in her stepfather’s penthouse. She figured that Trumpmaine, Sanderstasia, and Cruzella were probably on their way home by now, so she turned to go back inside so Duke Biden could present her to the kings. As she was leaving, she noticed that she hadn’t been alone on the balcony. There was a man standing at the other end.

Cinderodham didn’t recognize him, but she figured he must be another noble competing for the crown, as he was dressed the part in a formal suit and sported a mask. A blush came to Cinderodham’s cheeks; this nobleman was absolutely gorgeous! He was quite tall, had striking white hair, and though they were hidden somewhat behind his mask she caught sight of the most beautiful soft blue eyes she’d ever seen, eyes that were trained on the King Washington Monument just like her own had been. Trumpmaine’s strict control over her had left little time for dating, but, Cinderodham thought as a grin began to spread across her face, Trumpmaine wasn’t here right now, and that dashing nobleman was free for the taking…

Trumpmaine had found his way to the palace kitchen, looking to raid it for more snacks since the ballroom was starting to run low. Some of the other gluttonous nobles had gathered there before him, much to his dismay. His attention was drawn to one noble in particular, one that had hoarded several bottles of Diet Coke. Something about him seemed oddly familiar, but Trumpmaine couldn’t figure out what or why. The man had short, thin white hair and piercing eyes that felt as if they were boring into Trumpmaine’s very soul. He shivered; whoever this man was his gaze-and the rest of him-was quite electrifying.

“You gonna drink all that yourself?” Trumpmaine asked, gesturing to the Coke. The man blushed and averted his gaze to the floor.

“I was actually going to bring them to you,” He mumbled bashfully, “I know you like them, and isn’t it customary to give someone gifts when you’re interested in them?” Trumpmaine was confused. This guy liked him? Not that his narcissistic ass was complaining about having an admirer, but Trumpmaine had never seen this man before in his life! How could someone who had never met him be infatuated enough with him to bring him gifts?

“Do I know you?” Trumpmaine prodded. “How do you know so much about me?”

“I’m… I’m a new baron,” The man explained, “I’m Pence, Baron of Indiana. This is my first time attending the coronation ball. And oh, dear Lord Trumpmaine, I’m bound to figure out a thing or two about you and develop some affection for you when I’m living with y-um, following your Twitter account so closely!” Bringing up his Twitter account seemed to stroke Trumpmaine’s ego; he beamed at Pence and picked up one of the Diet Cokes.

“Well then, Pence of Indiana,” Trumpmaine smirked, reaching out to caress Pence’s cheek, “Why don’t the two of us sit out in the rose garden and enjoy these drinks together? I hear it’s very romantic.” Pence reached up to clasp Trumpmaine’s hand in his own and grinned.

“I’d love to.”

King Clinton stood out on the King Truman Balcony, feeling dejected as he looked upon his kingdom. His quest to find a lady to entertain him had proved fruitless; all of the women he’d fancied this evening had either been taken or uninterested. King Clinton felt a hand come to rest on his shoulder, and he grimaced. It was probably the very handsy Duke Biden, sent by King Obama to retrieve him for more noble introductions. But to his surprise, as the king turned around to face the hand’s owner, it was not the duke that stood before him. This noble was garbed in silver, and had golden blonde hair. The noble stepped out into the moonlight and removed their mask, revealing that they were a she, a she with a beautiful face and broad smile.

“Hello.” The noblewoman greeted him. “You’re looking very handsome this evening. Would you like to join me in the ballroom for a dance?” The king was rendered speechless by her forwardness. Usually when he was fond of a lady he’d be the first one to make a move, and if the lady shared his feelings she would give a coy response. This noblewoman was different, and her boldness intrigued him.

“I’d love to dance with you, but why don’t we stay here?” He suggested, gesturing around them at the balcony. “It’s a beautiful night, and we can still hear the band up on this floor.” The notes from the next waltz that the band was playing, though slightly muted, were still audible from where they were.

“Sure.” Cinderodham agreed. “Shall we dance?” King Clinton took her hand in his and pressed a gentle kiss to it, giving her a delighted smile.

“We shall.” He replied. The king placed his right hand upon Cinderodham’s waist while she placed her left hand upon his shoulder, and their free hands met, clasping one another as they began to waltz to the melody. It was very romantic, this moonlit waltz, and the king and countess found themselves lost in each other’s eyes. There was a palpable connection blooming, even though they had hardly said more than a few words to one another. That would definitely have to change, Cinderodham decided. She and the king began to talk about kingdom policy, fun things to do in their favorite provinces, a little flirting interspersed here and there. Suddenly, the tune of the waltz shifted. The strings and wind instruments were accompanied by an entirely different sound, following the rest of the band but in a distinctive punchy, reedy tune. Confused, King Clinton paused for a moment and glanced over his shoulder, only to see a man sitting on the balcony railing behind them and playing along to the waltz on a harmonica. The man paused playing for a moment to smile and wave, then continued, earning a chuckle from Cinderodham.

“Thank you, Kaine, but you should go enjoy yourself,” She urged him, “Perhaps you can find a dance partner of your own.” Kaine nodded, tapped the harmonica with his wand to make it disappear, and slipped back into the palace to rejoin the festivities.

“What a pleasant friend you have, and it’s clear he’s adept at magic,” King Clinton noted, “If you were to become queen you should consider making him your duke. I’m sure he’d be of great service to you.”

“I’m surprised you’re offering me pointers,” Cinderodham smirked, “Don’t you want the crown for yourself? Aren’t you concerned about your own chances?”

“Oh no, I have no need for the crown,” The king explained, “I’m simply here to enjoy the evening. And you, my lady, are making it very enjoyable.” He didn’t even know this noblewoman’s name, but he was smitten. She was so engaging, so knowledgeable and determined, funny and witty and very unlike any lady he’d associated with in the past. She was something uniquely special, and he realized that he was having the terrifying yet thrilling experience of falling in love. He felt blessed to be in her presence, and, he soon found, blessed to be the recipient of her kisses.

Sanderstasia hadn’t managed to locate his brother yet, but he did run into someone else: his brother’s crush. Count Rubio greeted him politely and offered him a beer. Sanderstasia couldn’t help but sulk a bit-the beer reminded him of Liz and brought back unpleasant lovelorn feelings-but he accepted the drink anyways. He leaned against the wall with the count as they drank and chatted, observing the room. Rubio spied someone lurking in the distance, and he let out a dreamy sigh.

“Oh, Count Sanderstasia, have you ever been in love before?” He asked his companion. “I hope you don’t think badly of me, but I’m in love with your brother Cruzella. I don’t know how much he tells you, but do you have any idea if he feels the same or not? It would make me so happy to know that my love was reciprocated!” Sanderstasia knew all too well just how intensely that love was reciprocated. Like the nosy ass older brother he was, he had taken peeks at the passionate entries dedicated to the count within Cruzella’s diary and had also had the misfortune of more than once accidentally catching his brother alone on late evenings in moments of solitary pleasure, the count’s name upon his lips. Of course, he wasn’t going to let Rubio know those more unsettling details. Cruzella was an irritating whiny little man, but he was still Sanderstasia’s brother, and Sanderstasia wasn’t about to make him look like a creep in front of his crush. He made up his mind to set up Cruzella and the count, more so to get Cruzella to stop with all the stalking and swooning than out of the goodness of his heart.

“CRUZELLA!” Sanderstasia shouted out, getting the attention of his brother and every other noble in the vicinity, “COUNT RUBIO LIKES YOU BACK!” Both Cruzella and Count Rubio blushed at this, and Cruzella looked as if he wanted to murder Sanderstasia. A few of the other nobles started snickering among themselves, while Sanderstasia grinned a wicked grin and disappeared into the crowd before any harm could come to him. Cruzella was his brother, yes, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t have a little fun at his expense while also helping him out. Cruzella was mortified that his crush had been exposed, and he grew even more mortified as Count Rubio approached him. He willed himself to run off, to escape this uncomfortable situation, but he found himself frozen in place, frozen by his love’s gaze.

“Count Cruzella, is it really true that you like me?” Rubio asked shyly. “It’s okay if you don’t and your brother’s just messing around, but you should know that I really do like you. I’ve liked you ever since I first laid my eyes on you when you joined the royal court.”

“I like you too,” Cruzella confirmed, “Sanderstasia wasn’t lying.” Rubio gave a gentle smile and took hold of Cruzella’s hands.

“Would you like to go somewhere more private?” He asked. “I know a coat closet nearby where we could do some kissing, and more than kissing if you like.” Cruzella happily accepted.

Nancy, Liz, and Kaine had reunited in the rose garden, and Kaine was excitedly gossiping to his friends about Cinderodham’s dance partner as they marveled at the banks of flowers surrounding the lawn.

“You should’ve seen the smile on Cinderodham’s face! She looked so happy with him!” Kaine gushed. “I don’t know his name or where he comes from, but when he talks he sounds like he’s from one of the southern provinces. He’s very tall, he has blue eyes, and he’s got white hair, but his actually looks good, it’s not messy like Sanderstasia’s and it’s not as short or thin as… Mike’s…” The fairy trailed off, overcome with a sense of dread as he spied a familiar face across the garden. Nancy and Liz followed his line of sight, and their eyes went wide. The now-human Mike had shown up to the ball, and he was enveloped in a passionate embrace with none other than Trumpmaine. The lord had his arms wound tightly around Mike’s waist and they were making out up against a tree.

“OH FUCK!” Liz exclaimed, and after promptly being shushed by Kaine and Nancy to avoid being detected, she followed it with a much quieter, whispered, “Oh fuck. Well, I guess Trumpmaine’s gonna be in for a shock at midnight when Mike turns back into a cat.”

“Midnight!” Kaine gasped, looking down at his watch. “Oh goodness, it’s about to be midnight! We need to grab Cinderodham and get out of here, quickly, before my magic’s undone!”

“Hopefully we’re not going to walk in on her and her prince charming in the middle of an intimate moment,” Nancy grumbled, “Too many of these nobles are getting handsy with each other at the ball.” With that, the three of them hurried off to collect their friend.

Fortunately for them, King Clinton and Cinderodham hadn’t gone to bed together. They’d finished their waltz and were sitting on one of the balcony benches, kissing and cuddling and whispering sweet nothings, giggling over business and romance. Surprisingly, sex wasn’t the first thing on the king’s mind for once-he still wanted it of course, and if his beloved noblewoman offered it he’d readily accept, but he was perfectly content to just talk with and hold her all evening. They leaned in for another kiss, and the sound of the palace clock striking twelve filled the king’s ears.

“Oh, it’s midnight,” He noted, “God, time sure flies when you’re having fun!” To his confusion, the noblewoman grew panicked.

“Midnight?!” She cried. “I’m really sorry, but I have to leave immediately! Thank you for a wonderful evening, you have no idea how much it’s meant to me!” Cinderodham pulled away from him and started to run off. The king followed hot on her heels, not wanting things to end so abruptly.

“Wait! Don’t go!” He begged her. “I don’t even know your name!” King Clinton grabbed hold of her hand, but she kept running, and her glove slipped off in his grasp as she escaped down the stairs. She stumbled into Kaine, Nancy, and Liz along the way, and after recomposing themselves the four of them made a mad dash for their limo. They reached it just in time as the clock made its last few strikes on the hour, and they sped off together into the night.

Chapter Text

Halfway to the tower, Cinderodham found herself back in her tattered pink suit, sitting atop the Coke can that was once her limo. She looked down at her hands, seeing that even though Kaine’s magic had been undone one of the gloves he had gifted to her was still there, a final remnant of the evening’s joys.

“Nancy? Liz? Kaine?” Cinderodham called out to her friends. “Where have you gone?” She saw Kaine emerge from behind a lamp post with Liz and Nancy, who had turned back into mice, perched atop his shoulders.

“We’re right here,” Kaine announced their presence, “Are you alright?” He offered Cinderodham his hand; she accepted it and gave a nod as she rose from the street.

“I’m sorry we had to rush out of there like that, I didn’t realize how late it was,” She apologized, “The ball was just so wonderful, and time seemed to stand still while I was dancing with that handsome nobleman. Oh, and he wasn’t just handsome, he was brilliant too! We danced and talked for what felt like hours; I was more awed by his company than I think I would have been had I danced with a king himself!”

“I was enjoying the ball until Sanderstasia took a liking to me,” Liz muttered, “I’ll bet he wouldn’t be fawning over me so much if he knew that I was one of the mice he so despises.”

“I had several nobles nominate me to be the speaker of the royal court,” Nancy informed everyone, “Perhaps when I’m human permanently I’ll take them up on that offer. I think that I could lead the court effectively and do some good things for our kingdom.”

“I’m glad that we all got to go out this evening,” Said Tim, “I had a great time.”

“Too bad it’s over now,” Cinderodham sighed, “But it was fun while it lasted. I’ll treasure the memories.” With that, she headed off to the penthouse, knowing she had to get back before her family returned from the ball. Kaine, Liz, and Nancy went in the opposite direction towards the province of Virginia so Kaine could make good on his promise to turn the mice human permanently. Back in Washington Royal District, the ball was wrapping up and the kings and dukes were drinking together as they waited to find out who King Obama’s successor would be. They were all a mixture of excitement and nerves, except for King Clinton, who was too heartsick over losing track of his lady love to be worried about the results of the coronation cycle. Finally, after much worrying and waiting and perhaps a few too many glasses of wine, the dark of the night began to turn into dawn and a member of the palace staff arrived to inform King Obama of the results. The king rubbed at his eyes, mind hazy from the stress and sleep deprivation and drinks, and he stepped into the hall to speak with the staffer in private. He rejoined his companions a moment later, his expression unreadable, which unsettled them all. Was the outcome an unfavorable one?

“Gentlemen, we’ve just received the results from the province of Pennsylvania, and the winner of the coronation cycle has been determined,” He announced to the other kings and the dukes, “It seems that Lord Trumpmaine has garnered a surprising amount of votes, with about forty-six percent of the kingdom selecting him. However, Trumpmaine is not going to be our next king.” There was an audible sigh of relief from most of the other royals, although Duke Cheney and Duke Quayle were visibly disappointed.

“Who is, then?” Inquired Bush the Younger.

“Well, for some asinine reason that I can’t fathom, six percent of the kingdom voted for either Lord Johnson, Lady Stein, or wrote in the names of celebrities, but roughly forty-eight percent of our subjects have selected a noble known only as ‘Hillary’. This noble is going to be the next king or queen. Unfortunately, I have no idea who this Hillary person is or what they look like. I don’t believe they were presented to us the previous evening.”

“I spoke with this Hillary, but didn’t get a title or province from them! What should we do?” Duke Biden asked. “We know almost all of the noblemen and noblewomen in this kingdom, but who is this Hillary person?”

“Can’t we look through the videos of all the nobles making their speeches to the kingdom?” King Carter suggested. “They’re recorded for future viewing; surely we can find Hillary if we look through the tapes with Biden.”

“Unfortunately, this coronation cycle’s recordings were not preserved after they’d aired live,” King Obama explained grimly, “The Kingdom of Russia launched a cyber-attack on us during the ball and disrupted the recording. The royal IT team is doing the best they can to recover it, but so far they’ve been unable to.”

“Well, this puts us in an unfortunate position!” Said Bush the Elder as he poured himself another glass of wine. “A new king or queen has been chosen, but we have no idea who it is! I suppose we’ll just have to wait for Hillary to come forward.”

“But that opens up the possibility that we may have some impostors trying to get the crown,” Duke Mondale pointed out, “If we put out a message asking for the true Hillary to come forward, we’ll get nobles trying to fraud their way to the crown by pretending to be Hillary! Would Duke Biden’s memory be reliable enough to pick the real winner out of a group of fakes?”

“I happen to have great memory, thank you very much!” Biden huffed indignantly. “God, Mondale! You have some nerve questioning my memory, given that you’re even older than I am! I bet that yours has faltered with age.”

“What did this Hillary person even look like?” Duke Quayle asked. “What do you remember?”

“Well, I couldn’t see much of their face because of the mask and the lighting, but they had blonde hair and were wearing a light blue, almost silver suit,” Biden recounted, “If I had to guess from Hillary’s height compared to mine and Hillary’s voice, we’re most likely dealing with a woman here. But I don’t know, maybe Hillary’s just a really short, feminine-sounding man.”

“There are a whole host of nobles who fit that description!” King Carter pointed out. “How are we supposed to find the right one? How are we supposed to prevent a fake from assuming the throne?”

“I think I have an idea!” King Clinton announced, “I believe that I danced with Hillary last night! I danced with the loveliest woman I’ve ever met in my life, dressed in silvery blue, and from the description Biden gave I have reason to believe that she was Hillary! I didn’t get her name, but I did get something else from her.”

“Sex?” Bush the Younger inquired.

“Actually, no!” King Clinton admitted, and the other kings were shocked that for once he’d spent time with a beautiful woman and hadn’t taken her to his bed. “I got this!” King Clinton reached into his pocket and withdrew a silvery glove.

“That’s all well and good, but how is a glove going to help us find Hillary?” Bush the Elder scoffed.

“I think I understand what King Clinton intends to do,” Duke Gore interrupted, “The glove belongs to Hillary, so we can just have any nobles who could possibly be Hillary try on the glove. It won’t fit properly on an impostor’s hand, but it should fit perfectly on Hillary’s.”

“We’re really going to use A GLOVE to find our next king or queen?” King Carter snorted, “This is ridiculous. Why can we not just crown Sanderstasia as king? I personally thought Sanderstasia was excellent.”

“Oh, please! He spent nearly all of the ball courting that one noblewoman, completely disregarded the southern provinces, and I even caught wind of him speaking ill of you, King Carter! He’d make a terrible king!” Duke Quayle sneered. “Now his father, Lord Trumpmaine, he’d make a great king, and nearly half the kingdom seems to agree!”

“I could not disagree more!” Bush the Elder cut in. “He doesn’t embody the values and virtues of our great kingdom. We should crown my younger son and let a King Bush the Third rule the kingdom! He would do a wonderful job, just as I and my eldest son did!”

“Yes, my brother would be a glorious king!” Bush the Younger agreed. “The entire kingdom would applaud him! Baron Bush of Florida will be a baron no longer!”

“Why not make me the king?” Duke Biden suggested. “I don’t know if it’s wise to put all of our faith into a mystery noble, why not just crown me instead? I’ve been involved in the affairs of the kingdom for a long time, first as a count and then as a duke. I think I could make an excellent king.”

“Biden, you are my duke, my friend, my confidant, and I value you and what you have done for the kingdom over the years, but I think it would be prudent for you to step aside and let others involve themselves,” King Obama advised, “You can still serve the kingdom in many ways, but let someone else have a turn at reigning. That Countess Warren seemed very impressive, did she not? If we can’t find Hillary I think we should consider her.”

“Hmph, you probably just don’t want Biden to become king because you know he’ll say or do something foolish that could jeopardize the kingdom without you to keep him in check.” Duke Cheney scoffed. “After eight years of reigning with him as your duke you’ve seen plenty of foolish behavior from him. I bet you wish you had chosen someone else to reign at your side, someone who knows when he should keep his mouth shut. This is your own fault for picking him and elevating him to duke status; because of you he now has the prestige and the influence to coast his way to the crown.”

“Hey! I thought we were friends, Cheney!” Duke Biden replied, earning an exasperated look from his king. “Well, if you’re going to slander me I’ll slander you! I’m not saying that I’ve been a perfect duke, but you were a downright awful one, and you reigned with one of the worst kings we’ve ever had!”

“I was a damn fine king!” Bush the Younger exclaimed indignantly. “If you truly want to see one of the worst kings then direct your eyes to King Carter over there!”

“At least I never brought the kingdom into any senseless wars while I was king, unlike you.” King Carter retorted. “I fostered peace, not war!”

“Oh, you’re insufferable!” Bush the Elder groaned, “King Reagan, God rest his soul, did the kingdom a favor by taking the throne from you! There just aren’t any kings like him anymore; I’ll always be honored that I got to be his duke.”

“More like dishonored.” Duke Mondale muttered.

“Stop with that!” Bush the Younger snapped, “You’re just like Duke Gore, bitter and petty because you were denied the throne yourself!”

“The throne could have and should have been mine,” Duke Gore huffed, “If not for Lord Nader’s interference and the injustice served to me by your brother and the high court.”

“You’re a sore loser!” Bush the Younger accused him.

“You’re a cheater!” Duke Gore retorted. The king and the duke continued to squabble over the results of the 2000 coronation cycle, and all the other kings and dukes soon chimed in, with the exception of King Obama and King Clinton.

“Well, so much for resolving the dilemma of finding the new queen,” King Clinton sighed, “King Obama, since you and I seem to be the only ones still focused upon the task at hand, what do you think we should do?”

“Your suggestion regarding the glove is a good one,” King Obama replied, “I think we should send the dukes out with it so they can try it on the hands of the nobility from every province. Hopefully we’ll be able to find my successor this way.” By that point King Bush the Younger had tired of arguing and had gone to his guest chamber to sleep off his hangover, with the rest of the kings quickly following suit. King Obama sobered the dukes up with a few cups of coffee, informed them of their orders, and after begrudgingly agreeing to set their quarrels aside for the time being, Duke Mondale, Duke Quayle, Duke Gore, Duke Cheney, and Duke Biden set off into the kingdom, glove in hand.

Chapter Text

The next morning, Cinderodham served breakfast for her stepfather and stepbrothers, who were all squabbling with each other over the ball. Trumpmaine was furious that neither he nor his sons had been crowned king.

“You could have enticed any of the kings, and yet you fall for a lowly Count!” He scoffed at Cruzella, “Sad!”

“But Father, I love him!” Cruzella burst into tears. “Count Rubio and I are meant to be!”

“I don’t care! And you!” Trumpmaine growled, turning to Sanderstasia. “You didn’t fare any better! You made no effort to charm the kings; you kept going after that Countess who wasn’t even into you!”

“Whatever, Father.” Sanderstasia sneered, rolling his eyes. “I’ll simply try again next coronation cycle. I’m looking forward to beating whoever that was in the silver suit.” Cinderodham, who had been scrubbing the dirty dishes in the sink, paused.

“Who was in a silver suit?” She inquired.

“No clue.” Said Sanderstasia. “But they were elected to be the new king or queen last night, and now the kings and dukes can’t find them!” Cinderodham’s heart skipped a beat. They were talking about her! She’d won the crown!

“Oh, they can’t?” She asked, feigning disinterest. “That’s too bad. Did they even get the noble’s name?”

“Their name was Hillary.” Sniffled Cruzella. “At least, that was the name that this noble gave to Duke Biden. But I don’t know any lords or ladies named Hillary in the court.”

“Now those sad useless dukes have all been sent out by their kings to search the kingdom for Hillary.” Trumpmaine complained. “It’s stupid! All they have to go on is Hillary’s glove! They should forget all about it and just crown me the new king. Besides, from what we know it sounds like Hillary is a noblewoman, not a nobleman, and do we really want a queen leading the kingdom? A queen would be too emotional to lead us! She’d get her period and start a war!” Cinderodham, hiding her indignation at that preposterous claim, fished for more information.

“Why do you think it’s a queen that they’re looking for, Stepfather?” She prodded Trumpmaine.

“Because King Clinton claims to have danced with a woman he believes to be Hillary.” He revealed. “He was really taken by her. She ran off without giving him her name, and all that she left behind was her glove.” Cinderodham couldn’t believe it; the man she had danced with was one of the kings!

“He must be a very humble man to not use his title to try and impress the ladies.” She thought to herself, cracking a smile. “Of course, he didn’t need to use it to impress me.” She had won the crown, but the king had won her intrigue. She wanted to get to know him more, she had to see him again, and she had to find a way to meet up with the dukes. As she quietly continued scrubbing the dishes she went about formulating a plan to slip out of the penthouse. She hummed the melody of the song that she and the king had danced to and began setting the freshly-scrubbed plates on the drying rack. Cinderodham noted that it was oddly quiet in the kitchen now; glancing back at the table she noticed Sanderstasia staring at her intently. He beckoned his father to lean close to him and whispered something into his ear.

“WHAT!?” Trumpmaine exclaimed loudly, slamming his fists down on the table and making Sanderstasia and Cruzella wince. “You think that Cinderodham is Hillary!?”

“Father, inside voice!” Sanderstasia meekly admonished him. “Don’t let her know that we know! She’ll run off!”

“No need to worry about that! Cruzella, grab her!” Trumpmaine commanded. Cinderodham made a dash for the doorway, but found herself tackled to the ground by Cruzella. Trumpmaine loomed over her, a menacing look in his eyes.

“I don’t know how you managed to get a new suit and get to the ball, and I don’t care that most of the kingdom’s subjects want you to lead them.” He seethed. “I’ll find a way to make me or one of my boys the king instead, no matter what it takes. Cruzella, Sanderstasia, lock her up!” Sanderstasia grabbed hold of Cinderodham and he and Cruzella pulled her kicking and struggling out of the kitchen, dragging her off to her room.

“Let go of me!” She shouted. “The crown is rightfully mine!”

“It’s only yours because you whored out for King Clinton!” Sanderstasia accused her. “That’s the only way you could’ve pulled this off. You couldn’t stand before the kingdom’s subjects and win; you had to be on your back under a king to do it!”

“We haven’t slept together!” She maintained. “He was a perfect gentleman to me! All we did was kiss!”

“Yeah, right! We all know of his reputation; there’s no way that kissing is all he did with you!” Cruzella sneered. “You nasty woman, you can’t win legitimately so you lie and cheat to win!”

“Oh, that’s rich coming from you!” Cinderodham shot back. “You and Stepfather do those things; I actually worked hard to earn the crown! Hey!” Sanderstasia and Cruzella shoved her into her room and locked the door from the outside, imprisoning her. She pounded on the door, demanding that they free her, but they ignored her. They left to rejoin their father, her angry orders growing fainter the further they got down the hallway. Trumpmaine was finishing a phone call as his sons reentered the kitchen; he hung up and turned to face them, grinning from ear to ear.

“One of us will soon be king!” He announced. “I’ve contacted King Putin of the kingdom of Russia, Minister of Investigations Comey, the exiled Lord Assange, and many other rich and powerful friends from this kingdom and others. They’ve all agreed to help us trash Cinderodham’s reputation and tamper with the ballots if need be. But at the moment we don’t need their assistance, we just have to keep Cinderodham out of the way and wait for the dukes to arrive with the glove. Come along, boys!” The three of them headed down to await the dukes in the lobby, confident that nothing could stop them now.

Meanwhile, Kaine, Nancy, and Liz had just arrived back from Virginia. Nancy and Liz, now permanently human, were talking about all the things that they would do in their new forms and about possibly joining the royal court, though Kaine seemed a little worried.

“I hope Cinderodham hasn’t been too lonely without us!” He said as they approached Trumpmaine Tower. “I wish we could have brought her along. It’s too bad that her family would’ve noticed that she was gone and would’ve punished her when she returned. Oh, that Trumpmaine is such a wicked stepfather! How could he be so cruel! Uh, Nancy? What’s wrong?” Nancy had grabbed hold of his and Liz’s arms to stop them from walking any further.

“Speak of the devil.” She noted, pointing across the street. Through the massive glass doors the three of them spied Trumpmaine, Sanderstasia, and Cruzella all sitting together in the lobby.

“Well, now we’ll have to find another way inside, because we can’t go in through the front with them there.” Liz surmised. “I don’t want to deal with Sanderstasia again after last night.”

“I don’t think there are any other ways in.” Said Nancy. “That’s the only way in or out. Well, there’s also the fire escape, but I wouldn’t recommend climbing in that way. It’ll hold a mouse’s weight, but it won’t hold ours.” The three of them heard a squeaking noise and looked down at the pavement, seeing a lone mouse in a blazer and tie standing before them.

“Oh! A friend of yours?” Kaine asked Liz and Nancy, and they nodded. Liz knelt down and held her palm out for the mouse, the mouse crawled onto it and Liz lifted him up so he was eye level with them. The mouse started squeaking frantically, and Liz and Nancy each let out a horrified gasp.

“Kaine, our friend has some terrible news!” Nancy informed him. “Trumpmaine, Cruzella, and Sanderstasia imprisoned Cinderodham in her room! They’re trying to prevent her from being crowned queen!”

“She received the most votes from the kingdom last night, but because she didn’t give her true name or show her face the kings and dukes can’t find her!” Liz added. “But one of the kings had the idea to send the dukes out with the glove she left behind and to have all of the noblemen and noblewomen of the kingdom try it on to see if it fits! They plan to find her that way.”

“But they can’t find her if Cinderodham isn’t present to try on the glove!” Kaine realized. “We need to free her so she can take her rightful place as queen!”

“We’ll need to distract Trumpmaine and his sons so we can get to her, and I have just the plan for that!” Nancy announced. “Liz, Sanderstasia was quite taken with you at the ball, right?” Liz grimaced at this.

“I don’t like where this is going.” She grumbled. Nancy briefly went over her plan, and even though Liz was not especially thrilled with her role in it, she and Kaine agreed to go along with it. Liz set their mouse friend down and he scurried back over to the tower. She took a deep breath, dreading what was about to happen, and entered the lobby. Sanderstasia, upon seeing her approaching, instantly perked up.

“Countess Warren!” He exclaimed, leaping up from his seat to rush over and take her into his arms. “You’ve come to call on me!”

“Oh, Sanderstasia, my love.” She pretended to swoon, though in reality she was filled with disgust. “You made such an impression upon me at the ball last evening that I just had to see you again. Can we go somewhere private?” Sanderstasia didn’t need to be asked twice. He swung Liz over his shoulder and carried her into the elevator, grinning wickedly as the doors slid closed. Kaine and Nancy walked in next, hand in hand as if they were a couple, and approached Trumpmaine.

“Good day, Lord Trumpmaine.” Nancy greeted him. “My husband and I have been out looking for a new residence, and we just happened to run into a friend of ours a few minutes ago who recommended that we rent a room in your tower. Are you aware of a Count Rubio of Florida?”

“Count Rubio?” Cruzella repeated, jumping out of his seat at the mention of his love. “Where!?”

“Oh, he was on his way to Broadway to watch the Lord Hamilton musical.” Kaine lied. “Perhaps you can catch up to him, if you hurry.” Without another word Cruzella bolted out of the lobby in search of his beloved Count Rubio. Trumpmaine groaned and rolled his eyes.

“Pay no mind to my sons, they’re easily distracted idiots.” He muttered, but he himself was soon distracted by a notification on his phone. Opening it up, he was enraged to see that all of the nobles that sat on the left side of the royal court, led in a thread started by Count Schumer, were speaking ill of him on Twitter. “Trumpmaine would be a disaster for the kingdom, Trumpmaine is grossly unqualified, the kingdom’s most vulnerable subjects will die under Trumpmaine-oh, I’ll show these sad counts and countesses what’s what!” He started aggressively typing away, ready to retaliate with nasty tweets of his own.

“Since you seem busy, would you mind if we took a look at the rooms on our own?” Kaine asked.

“Yeah yeah whatever, go ahead.” Trumpmaine muttered, not even bothering to look up from his phone. Kaine and Nancy hurried off to the elevator and pressed the button that would take them up to the penthouse.

“That was excellent thinking to recruit the other nobles to distract Trumpmaine!” Kaine complimented Nancy. “He’s unable to ignore his critics; he just always has to have the last word!” The elevator doors slid open and they rushed to Cinderodham’s room. Kaine transformed the tip of his wand into a lock pick and managed to get the door open. He and Nancy rushed in, only to see that Cinderodham had given up trying to break the door down and was attempting to climb out the window on to the fire escape. Her friends’ entrance startled her, making her lose her balance, though she fortunately caught herself before she went tumbling over the windowsill.

“Cinderodham!” Nancy and Kaine cried as they ran to grab hold of her. The two of them managed to pull her back inside, and Cinderodham threw her arms around both of them in a grateful hug.

“Oh, it’s so good to see both of you!” She exclaimed. “Thank you, thank you so much! Where’s Liz?”

“Here I am.” Liz announced herself as she stepped into the room, looking a little bit disheveled and damp.

“Liz, where’s Sanderstasia?” Kaine asked her. “Weren’t you keeping him distracted?”

“I was, but he wanted to have a little ‘fun’ with me in his shower and had an unfortunate ‘accident’ with the shower door.” Liz smirked. “But enough about that. We need to get Cinderodham to the dukes!” They all ran down the hall to the elevator, only to find Sanderstasia was staggering into it, with Mike at his side. He too was damp and disheveled, and he seemed a bit dazed. He was bleeding from a small gash on his forehead, likely from the “accident” with the shower door, and was very, very pissed off.

“So Cinderodham, you and your friends think you can rig things to prevent me from getting the crown, do you?” He snarled. “Well, I’ll do some rigging of my own. Have fun taking the stairs.” He pressed the button to close the elevator’s doors prematurely, and the four friends watched Mike give a final hiss in their direction as the doors slid closed. They heard a car horn from outside; Liz looked out the window and saw that a limo with the kingdom’s seal had pulled up in front of Trumpmaine Tower. The five dukes exited it and approached the door.

“Son of a bitch!” Liz swore. “We don’t have time to wait for the elevator; we need to run for it!” Everyone found their way to the stairs and began bolting down to the lobby. Trumpmaine had just let the dukes inside; the five of them bowed respectfully.

“Lord Trumpmaine.” Duke Cheney greeted him. “You live here with Count Sanderstasia, Count Cruzella, and Countess Cinderodham, correct?”

“That’s right!” Trumpmaine affirmed. “You’re looking for the next king or queen?”

“We are indeed.” Duke Biden replied. “Now, we’ll start with your sons. Where are they?” Suddenly, Cruzella came running in through the door, out of breath and in tears.

“I missed him, Father! I missed him!” He sobbed. “Count Rubio wasn’t at Broadway!”

“Stop crying, you sad brat!” Trumpmaine snapped at him. “Stick your hand out so the dukes can try the glove on you!” Still whimpering, Cruzella did as he was told, and Duke Biden tried to slip the glove onto his hand. He had some difficulty, however, as Cruzella’s fingers were too fat to fit the glove.

“Well, it’s not you.” Said Duke Biden. “Count Sanderstasia is next.” As if on cue, the elevator doors opened and Sanderstasia shuffled out, followed by Mike. Mike leapt into Trumpmaine’s arms and purred as the lord began to pet him.

“Oh my, what happened to your head?” Duke Mondale asked the Count.

“It’s a long story involving an absolute wench of a countess…” Sanderstasia growled. “Don’t ask any questions; just let me try on the glove.” Duke Biden removed the glove from Cruzella’s hand and tried it on Sanderstasia, but his hands were too large and his fingers too long to fit the glove.

“Okay, neither of my idiot sons are who you’re looking for, so now try me!” Trumpmaine demanded, thrusting his hand out. “I think you’ll find that it fits very well!” Duke Biden, Duke Gore, and Duke Mondale exchanged nervous glances with each other, each of them silently hoping that the glove would not fit, while Duke Quayle looked on with excitement and Duke Cheney regarded them all in stony silence. Duke Biden muttered a prayer, did the sign of the cross on himself, and tried the glove on Trumpmaine. It hung loose on his tiny hand, and Biden, Gore, and Mondale breathed a collective sigh of relief. Duke Quayle was noticeably displeased.

“Oh well, it seems that my side of the court was not successful this time.” Duke Cheney said with a shrug. “Perhaps next coronation cycle we’ll have better luck.”

“Oh, what a tragedy!” Duke Quayle lamented. “You would have made such a wonderful king, your lordship!”

“May we try Countess Cinderodham next?” Duke Biden requested.

“Why bother? She wasn’t even at the ball last night!” Trumpmaine lied. “She was holed up in here doing her chores! I’m the one you’re looking for, this is my glove and I’m going to be the next king! It probably just got stretched out from all of you manhandling it! That’s why it doesn’t fit properly anymore! You did it! You’re trying to take me down!”

“Weren’t we looking for a queen, though?” Duke Gore questioned. “A woman in silver? The woman King Clinton danced with? I’m pretty sure King Clinton didn’t dance with a man. He doesn’t swing that way.”

“We would have learned of him having a dalliance with a man by now if he did,” Duke Cheney scoffed. “For he is a king who is terrible at keeping certain affairs private...”

“Well, it was dark out and I was wearing my mask most of the evening.” Trumpmaine tried to cover for himself. “I think the king may have mistaken me for a woman.”

“The king has questionable taste at times, but I’m sure he would’ve noticed that you weren’t one, your lordship.” Duke Mondale insisted. “Yes, we’re trying the glove on all of the noblemen and noblewomen just to be absolutely certain that we find the right person, but we’re all convinced that we’re looking for a queen, and King Clinton is too.”

“I know for a fact that your story is false, your lordship.” Duke Biden intervened, and Trumpmaine grew enraged over being caught in his lie.

“You’re fake news!” He shot back. “How is my story false?”

“I met Hillary briefly at the ball when I tried to get her to present herself to the kings.” Duke Biden explained. “I wasn’t entirely sure at the time if Hillary was a nobleman or a noblewoman, but King Clinton’s description of the woman he danced with matched Hillary exactly, so I’m confident that she’s Hillary. And at the same time that I was speaking with her I saw you and your sons waiting in line to give your speeches to the kingdom, so you can’t have been her.”

“Well, if it’s a woman you’re looking for then you might as well leave now!” Trumpmaine decided, tired of keeping up his lies. “Because there’s no woman here who went to the ball last night. Like I said, it was just me and my sons. Cinderodham was home all night.”

“You’re wrong, Stepfather!” A new voice cut in, and Trumpmaine tensed up. Looking in its direction, he saw Cinderodham emerge from the stairwell, accompanied by Kaine, Nancy, and Liz. Cinderodham was breathless from having to run down all those flights of stairs to reach the lobby, but she steeled herself, held her head high, and approached the dukes, flanked by her friends. “Your grace Duke Biden, I did attend the ball last night, and I believe that I’m the one you’re looking for.” Upon hearing her speak Duke Biden’s face lit up.

“My dear countess, I’m certain that you’re the one! I recognize your voice from last evening!” He told her excitedly. “But since we need more proof than my word and King Clinton’s description, will you please let me see your hand?” Cinderodham held her hand out for the duke, and Trumpmaine, Cruzella, and Sanderstasia looked on in defeat and anger as Duke Biden prepared to slip on the glove. However, before he could do so, Mike leapt out of Trumpmaine’s arms and onto the duke, hissing and screeching and clawing at him.

“OH FUCK!” Duke Biden swore loudly, staggering backwards and falling to the floor as Mike kept attacking his face.

“Your grace!” Cinderodham cried. She and her friends rushed to get Mike off of the duke, as did Duke Gore and Duke Mondale, while everyone else just stood around uselessly. After much arduous struggling and pulling, they finally managed to get Mike off of the duke when Kaine used his wand to conjure a water bottle and started spritzing the cat with it. Mike hissed and ran back over to Trumpmaine, jumping into his awaiting arms as Cinderodham helped Duke Biden back to his feet. His face bore several bloody claw marks and his blazer was in tatters, but he was otherwise unharmed. Kaine used his wand to conjure up some disinfectant ointment and bandages for the duke’s wounds, which he began applying to the duke’s face.

“Thank you good sir, but I’ve got bigger problems than these scratches! Oh, King Obama will be so angry!” Duke Biden panicked. “That terrible cat’s shredded the glove!” He held up the glove, which, like his blazer, was completely in tatters.

“Well, guess you can’t see if Cinderodham is the one you’re looking for now!” Trumpmaine smirked triumphantly. “You dukes had one job, and you couldn’t even accomplish that! Sad!”

“Perhaps she can still be crowned!” Duke Mondale spoke up hopefully. “Do we really need the glove to prove that she’s the one? Duke Biden is certain that she is, and King Clinton is certain too.”

“What? That isn’t fair!” Duke Quayle shrieked. “We can’t crown her the queen based solely on Biden and Clinton’s word! We need more proof than that! Stop the steal!”

“You’re trying to rig this in favor of your side of the court!” Duke Cheney accused.

“You’re the last person who should be talking about rigging things!” Duke Gore scoffed. “Your king stole the crown from me!”

“Oh, can’t we please just make Trumpmaine the king?” Duke Quayle pleaded. “That makes the most sense!”

“That doesn’t make a lick of sense! It’s a bunch of malarkey!” Duke Biden shot back. “Why in the fuck would we do that?”

“We might as well!” Duke Cheney reasoned. “We can’t prove that Cinderodham is Hillary, and he got the second most votes out of all of the contenders!”

“So stealing one crown isn’t good enough for you?” Duke Gore huffed. “You and Bush the Younger weren’t satisfied after taking the crown that was rightfully mine, so now you’re going to rob Cinderodham of it too?”

“Your graces, there’s no reason to argue! There’s still a way to prove that I’m the one!” Cinderodham intervened. “I have the other glove!” She reached into her pocket and pulled out the remaining glove, presenting it to the five dukes. Trumpmaine, Sanderstasia, and Cruzella all rushed to grab her and seize the glove, but Kaine stopped them, using his wand to raise a wall of magic to keep them at bay on the other side of the lobby.

“Hey! The wall is my thing!” Trumpmaine snapped angrily. Duke Biden took the glove, Cinderodham held out her hand, and he slipped it on. The duke beamed at her; it was a perfect fit!

“Gentlemen, may I present our new queen, Queen Cinderodham of New York!” He announced, grabbing Cinderodham’s gloved hand and raising it high. The duke then bowed before her, as did Duke Gore and Duke Mondale. Duke Quayle looked as if he was about to throw a tantrum over Trumpmaine not becoming king, and Duke Cheney regarded everyone with the same deathly quiet as usual, but after a moment’s hesitation the two reluctantly joined the other dukes in bowing. Trumpmaine, Sanderstasia, and Cruzella were fuming.

“Well, if I can’t have the crown then I want the man I met last night!” Trumpmaine demanded. “You fools spent the better part of a day scouring the kingdom for Cinderodham, you have the means to find him for me! Bring me Pence of Indiana!”

“No need! He’s right here!” Kaine announced. He dissipated the magic wall, fired a bolt of magic at Mike to turn him human, and Trumpmaine suddenly found himself holding his dream man in his arms instead of his cat. Kaine then handed Mike a vial of the potion he’d made for Liz and Nancy, telling him to drink it to make the spell permanent.

“I’ve fallen in love with a cat?!” Trumpmaine exclaimed in shock. Then, he shrugged. “Oh, well, this is okay I guess. I already grab pussy, so what’s wrong with dating a pussycat? Give me a kiss, Mike!” Mike threw his arms around Trumpmaine’s neck and pulled their faces together in a crushing kiss. Sanderstasia grabbed Liz’s hand and got down on one knee before her, ignoring the look of disgust on her face.

“Warren of Massachusetts, will you marry me?” He proposed to her. “I forgive you for slamming my head into the shower door! I just have to have you at my side!”

“Fuck no!” Liz rejected him. “It’s too late for that. Besides, I don’t think you’d be very happy to marry one of the mice that you hate so much…” Sanderstasia let go of her hand and sulked off, cursing her under his breath.

“Don’t worry, brother! You’ll find love one day!” Cruzella reassured him. “You helped me find it with Count Rubio, so I’ll do my best to return the favor!” Sanderstasia was still put out, but he did appreciate his brother’s gesture. The dukes led Cinderodham and her friends to the limo and they sped back to Washington Royal District and to the White Palace, where the kings awaited them. King Clinton was standing out front, looking longingly into the distance, wondering where in the kingdom his beloved could be. The king saw the limo pull up, and the dukes exited, although they weren’t alone. Three nobles exited with them, and then Duke Biden held out his hand to assist a final noble out of the limo. King Clinton’s heart skipped a beat. It was his lady love! Duke Gore hurried to join his side, while Duke Biden brought the lady forth and the other dukes rushed off to alert their kings.

“Good news, your highness! We’ve found our next queen!” Duke Biden announced. Cinderodham smiled and approached the king.

“If you’re one of the past kings and I’m going to be the next queen, you should get to know my real name.” She said. “I’m Cinderodham of New York. You’re King Clinton, right?” In that moment the king grew so flustered he nearly forgot his own name; Duke Gore ended up having to nudge him in the side with his elbow to prompt him to respond.

“Yes! Yes I am!” The king managed to stammer out a reply. “I’m Clinton of Arkansas, the forty-second king of America! I’m very glad to see you again, Cinderodham. You’ve won not only the crown, but my heart as well.”

“And you have won mine, Clinton.” She confessed. “I still need a plus one for my coronation. Would you like to accompany me?” The king accepted, and they all went inside the palace to introduce Cinderodham to the other kings and make arrangements for the upcoming ceremony.

Coronation day was soon upon them, and Cinderodham was soon to receive her crown with King Clinton at her side. Kaine was to be her duke, and Nancy and Liz had become members of the royal court. Nancy became one of the viscountesses of California, as well as the court speaker, while Liz became the junior countess of Massachusetts. Sanderstasia was still in the court as a count, though he kept his distance from Liz, realizing that both his dream of pursuing the crown and dream of pursuing her were dashed. He went about his courtly duties, moved out of his father’s penthouse to a place of his own in the province of Vermont, and looked for love elsewhere. Cruzella and Count Rubio’s relationship was flourishing, and Cruzella soon moved to the province of Florida to be with him. Trumpmaine was still angry about losing the crown, but he was not lonely without his sons, for he had Mike at his side.

Despite the frigid winter weather, huge droves of people had turned out to watch the coronation ceremony take place, excited to see the crowning of the first woman to rule the kingdom. Cinderodham and Kaine stood together on the coronation platform, with the preceding kings and dukes flanking them. The dukes wore their sashes and epaulets for the occasion, and each king had on his crown. Minister Roberts administered the duke’s oath to Kaine, and then presented him with a sash and epaulets of his own. Kaine stepped aside, and now it was Cinderodham’s turn. She and King Clinton stepped forward. It was kingdom tradition for the incoming royal’s partner to hold their crown during the oath, and then to place it upon the royal’s head once the oath was finished. Minister Roberts presented Cinderodham’s crown to King Clinton. It was a silver crown, adorned with sapphires, which would nicely compliment the dark blue pantsuit the soon to be queen was wearing.

“Repeat after me.” The minister began the oath. “You, Cinderodham, do solemnly swear,”

“I, Cinderodham, do solemnly swear.” Cinderodham repeated.

“That I will faithfully serve as Queen of the Kingdom of America.”

“That I will faithfully serve as Queen of the Kingdom of America.”

“And will to the best of my ability.”

“And will to the best of my ability.”

“Preserve, protect, and defend the Constitution of our Kingdom.”

“Preserve, protect, and defend the Constitution of our Kingdom.”

“So help me God.”

“So help me God.”

“Congratulations, your majesty.” The minister congratulated her. King Clinton placed the crown gently upon her head, and with that she was officially Queen Cinderodham. The subjects gathered before her erupted into applause and cheer, and she grinned. She almost couldn’t believe it. In just a few months she had gone from a countess treated as a prisoner in her own home to leader of the entire kingdom! King Clinton embraced her in a hug and kissed her cheek.

“The crown and suit are very becoming on you,” He whispered, grinning mischievously, “But I think they would look a lot better on the floor of our bedroom tonight…”

“Not in front of the other royals, your majesty!” Cinderodham playfully scolded him, though she too was looking forward to spending the evening alone with him. She hadn’t expected to win a king’s affection along with her crown, but she was very glad that she had won both. Things were looking brighter now, both for her and for her kingdom. She took Clinton by the hand and headed towards her palace, excited to begin her first day as Queen.

The End