A Prince From The Fairy Tale

Yet, her enthusiasm faltered when she found the door to her room locked.

Desperation took hold, and with all her might, she pounded on the door, her plea echoing through the corridor.

"Somebody, please open the door!"

After struggling for about fifteen minutes, Mabel's frustration got the best of her. With a heavy sigh, she let herself collapse onto the floor, tears welling up as her sense of helplessness and loneliness took over.

"Why does this always happen to me?" she whispered through her sobs.

Sitting on the cold floor, her tears flowed freely. It felt as if every time she glimpsed a chance at a better life, obstacles would inevitably block her path.

Her mind wandered to the other orphans, probably outside and already being chosen by potential adopters, while she remained trapped within the confines of that tiny room.

As her cries echoed off the walls, Mabel's senses suddenly sharpened, picking up the sound of approaching footsteps.

Before she could react, the door swung open abruptly, hitting her on the head. "Ow!" she yelped, collapsing onto the ground in a mix of pain and surprise.

Looking up through watery eyes, Mabel met the gaze of a tall man. His sharp blue eyes held an air of intrigue, a captivating contrast to his jet-black hair that cascaded gracefully over his broad shoulders.

His cold demeanor sent a shiver down her spine, but she mustered her courage and attempted to hold her ground.

Mabel could tell from his exquisite attire and an air of importance that he was someone of significance. And the scent around him was unlike anything she had ever encountered—expensive and foreign, making her feel even more out of place.

His frigid tone cut through the air as he posed a question, "How about this child?"

Beside him, Mrs. Jenkins, appearing uneasy, forced a smile, "Ah, she's a bit of a troublemaker, Your Grace. I wouldn't recommend her for adoption." Her stern gaze landed on Mabel, instructing her to stand.

Slowly getting to her feet while still clutching her head, Mabel gazed up at the man who had just entered.

His imposing stature and striking features held her attention. He was almost like a character out of her beloved storybooks, a prince come to life.

Summoning her courage, Mabel met his gaze with determination. "Mister, do you want to adopt me?" she asked, her eyes sparkling with hope.

Understanding that this was a unique chance to speak to a potential adopter, Mabel straightened her shabby dress as best as she could with her tiny hands.

She tugged at the edges of her dress, trying to smooth out the wrinkles and brush off the dirt with her tiny hands.

Unfortunately, her efforts only seemed to make her appear even dirtier, a realization that made her cheeks redden with embarrassment.

Meanwhile, the man in front of her let out a chuckle, his laughter making her cheeks burn even brighter.

Her hand found its way to clutch his clothes instinctively, a mix of surprise and self-consciousness bubbling within her.

"You won't regret it, sir! I can keep your room tidy, and I'm a really hard worker!" Mabel exclaimed, hoping her sincerity would win him over.

Mrs. Jenkins shot a disapproving look at Mabel and slapped her hand in anger. "I'm terribly sorry, Your Grace," she said, her tone dripping with insincerity.

"This child lacks proper manners and decency. Perhaps you would consider adopting a more refined and dignified girl? Allow me to introduce you to Jane. She is beautiful and diligent, and would make a much more suitable addition to your esteemed family."

Mrs. Jenkins then shoved Jane forward, eager to make a good impression on the nobleman. "Please forgive Mabel's impertinence, Your Grace," she added, casting a disdainful glance in Mabel's direction.

Recollections of the pain and misery this orphanage had inflicted upon her surged through Mabel mind. Mrs. Jenkins, the punisher, ever-ready to dole out reprimands, even when innocence was on her side. The children's torment, relentless and unyielding, the scars of their cruelty etched into her memory.

A fiery determination blazed within Mabel's chest, her little fists clenched as tightly as her resolve. In her mind's eye, she pictured her old friends, now adopted, sharing joyous moments with their new families.

It felt like she was standing still, while they raced ahead into a world of happiness.

But Mabel was determined to seize this moment and make her voice heard. She yearned to be important, to hold a place of significance in someone's heart.

Above all, she longed for something she had never truly experienced – the warmth and love of a family.

Gazing at her worn companion, Mrs. Bunnies, she found solace in its tattered form. Those seams held more than just fabric – they held her courage, her resilience, and her determination. The battered toy seemed to smile at her, a silent reminder that bravery was not beyond her grasp.

With a deep breath, she gathered her resolve and spoke up, "Mrs. Jenkins is lying! Jane kicked the bucket when I was mopping! She is not dignified at all!"

Despite stumbling over the word, she didn't let that deter her. Her small finger pointed directly at Jane, her cheek flushed with determination.

Mrs. Jenkins was furious, with one move her hands already in the air and ready to slap Mabel. She waited for the slap from Mrs. Jenkins, she closed her eyes tight and prepared for the worst.

But the slap never came. Opening her eyes, she was met with the sight of the man intervening, gripping Mrs. Jenkins' hand with a fierce glare. Mabel shivered, feeling a mix of fear and awe.

"Learn your place, Mrs. Jenkins," the man admonished with a haughty tone. "I decide which child I shall take home. And I have chosen this one." His voice dripped with disdain as he ordered her aside.

In an instant, he scooped up Mabel and carried her away from the room. From her elevated position, she felt triumphant, looking down on those who had doubted her. Giddily sticking her tongue out at Jane and Mrs. Jenkins, Mabel relished in the moment.

With that, the man turned and strode out of the room without a backward glance. "Vincent, report this orphanage to the authorities on allegations of child abuse," said the man in a stern voice to his butler as he walked quickly towards the exit of the orphanage.

"Yes, Your Grace, I will do that immediately," Vincent said with a respectful bow. His dark blue hair, tied in a loose ponytail, fell from his black clothes as he spoke. His black eyes gazed intently at Mrs. Jenkins.

"Oh, Your Grace! Please, I beg of you, don't report me!" cried Mrs. Jenkins, her voice trembling with fear as she fell to the ground in a desperate attempt to plead. Her eyes filled with tears, she looked up at him, hoping against hope that he would show mercy.

Mabel couldn't help but snicker at the sight of Mrs. Jenkins in a pathetic state. She felt a bit guilty for laughing, but Mrs. Jenkins had been so mean to her.

She was just glad that she would never have to see her again. The thought of it made her giggle even more.

...

Inside the luxurious carriage, Mabel's wide eyes took in the opulence that surrounded her. The soft velvet seats, adorned with golden trimmings, felt like a dream come true.

She couldn't believe her luck and giggled uncontrollably as she bounced up and down on the plush cushions.

With the carriage in motion, Mabel's curiosity got the best of her. She pressed her nose against the window, peering outside at the passing scenery.

The world seemed to whiz by as trees and buildings painted a picture of adventure. Her heart swelled with excitement.

Unexpectedly, a sudden jolt caused Mabel to lose her balance. She tumbled backward onto the seat, but instead of fear, she burst into laughter. "This is so much fun!" she exclaimed, her joy infectious.

Meanwhile, the butler leaned in to whisper to the man who had adopted her, a hint of uncertainty in his voice. "Are you truly certain about this, Your Grace?"

Mabel, sensing the tension, glanced uneasily between the two men. "Mister, what are you whispering about?" she asked, her nose scrunching up.

The man replied with a chuckle, his eyes dancing with amusement. "Well, if you look at her hair and eyes, it's quite obvious who she takes after," he teased playfully.

He then affectionately ruffled her hair, his smile warm and genuine.

Vincent, the butler, turned his gaze to Mabel, his expression considering. "Her carefree spirit seems to run in the family," he remarked, his tone thoughtful.

Mabel felt a hint of unease creeping in. She began to tidy her unruly hair, but her discomfort grew as she observed the scrutiny of the men.

"Why are you both looking at me like that?" she protested, a pout forming on her lips.

The man's smirk was playful as he retorted, "Oh, it's just a little dirt and smell. No big issue!"

Vincent's gaze revealed his concern, and he whispered, "Your Grace!"

Mabel's surprise left her momentarily speechless. Memories of the other children's hurtful words echoed in her mind, heightening her sense of inferiority. Her eyes welled up with tears, her emotions almost overwhelming.

Staring down at her soiled dress, Mabel's tears began to fall. She glanced up at the impeccably dressed man before her, her frown deepening.

"I'm not smelly and dirty!" she cried out, the frustration evident in her voice. "You're just... just too clean!" Her attempt at a comeback was accompanied by a determined wipe of her tears with the back of her hand.

The man and his butler exchanged bemused glances, unsure of how to navigate the sudden surge of emotions from the young girl. However, Mabel wasn't ready to back down.

"And... and your fancy clothes are just too much! Who needs all those frills anyway?" she added, a spark of defiance in her eyes. "I bet you couldn't even climb a tree in those fancy shoes!"