A/N: So here's the first chapter of a Cinderella AU I thought of months ago and can finally upload. This isn't my favourite anime (I haven't read the manga, sbut I love the characters and thought they'd suit this. It's sort of like a darker take on Cinderella, following its plot to a degree, but is mostly a twist.

Please note that it is more YuuMika than MikaYuu, as in, the roles that they play in. But these roles don't get written about too much, so don't worry, those who are strictly seme!Mika and uke!Yuu.

I hope you enjoy it!

Midnight's Chime

Chapter 1 - Emotions of a Slave

Early rays of dawn's sunshine were cast through a narrow window. It was placed high on the wall of a dreary, damp basement, the only source of light in the cool room. The temperature was far too low for someone to sleep in during November, especially since the fire, which had been made on a few pieces of collected scrapped wood, had distinguished a couple of hours ago. Yet a figure still laid there on a poor excuse for a bed – simply an old rug placed on the floor, two pieces of thin cloth folded into rectangles for their head and even thinner material to cover them.

They had already woken up half an hour ago, but had simply been too paralysed to move. They would've thought that after six years, the nightmares would have ceased. But as each day was practically a living version of what haunted them during their disturbed slumber each night, it was no surprise that life's events only added to these nightmares.

'I need to get up and start work,' they thought to themselves, gulping a large intake of air before sitting up. They rubbed sleep out of their tired blue eyes before grabbing a hairbrush off the floor. They personally could not care less if their blond hair was a mess, for it wasn't like their everyday clothes would have been much better. But they had learnt very quickly that maintaining a good appearance was often rewarded with a decent amount of food. Of course, it also meant that they often had to endure acts they would have rather avoided, but compared with the panic over starvation, it was the lesser of two evils.

This person was an eighteen-year-old boy named Mikaela. Though he was blessed with naturally beautiful looks, similar to thorns causing a magnificent garden to decline, it could be hard to take in his beauty due to heavy dark circles, a slightly sunken face and a skinny, undernourished body. He knew exactly how long it had been since he had been a healthy weight. That was six years ago, before what caused the start of his nightmares.

There was a reason for this dramatic change of life. He had grown up in an orphanage, where his friends were more like family and allowed him to not feel misery of the abusive first few years of his life with his parents. But that was all to change. At just age twelve, the orphanage he loved so dearly was attacked. Some children, like those he held closest to his heart, were murdered in cold blood. Others, like himself, were taken into slavery.

Death would have been better. He was completely separated from the few people he had left and was sold to a wealthy family in a kingdom. Slavery was absolutely forbidden there, but he was still managed to be bought outside of it and taken inside. He was like a rare treasure, hidden from the world, though he was not treated with the same amount of care. Abused verbally, physically and sexually, he was no more than a toy for them to play with and eventually discard when they were bored of him. They showed no mercy when he was still a child and didn't show any now.

Yes, death would have definitely been better. He had thought about it numerous times. Perhaps with the use of a knife in the kitchen whilst he cleaned, or stop eating the already scarce food he was given. It would be easy, he told himself. He could finally be reunited with people who cared for him, lose the loneliness which was eating him alive. It could have been easy as one, two, three. Or at least, it would have been if he hadn't been clinging onto one tiny ray of hope, which was the last thing keeping the fire in him burning.

That ray of hope was in the form of a pair of gorgeous, green eyes. They were the window to one of the kindest souls he had ever met. This soul belonged to Prince Yuichiro Hyakuya.

Yuichiro was loved by everyone who lived in the kingdom. He was courageous, protective and would do anything for his family, even if it meant putting himself in danger. There was no doubt that he would become a great ruler once the current king, Guren, stepped down to allow his son to take his place.

Mikaela often laughed at his stupidity over this. They had met four years ago, and since then, he had not been able to forget the prince's kindness, smile and laughter. The words "I hope we meet again" were most likely just politeness. But to him, they had caused hope which he thought he had lost completely. He knew it was foolish of him. Yuichiro would have forgotten about him quickly and was now expected to find a wife. However, the memory which he played over and over in his head pulled him through the darkest moments and was the cause of him still being alive.

It was the one thing that had kept him strong all this time. He was fragile, but not yet completely broken. He wasn't sure whether he was thankful or disappointed that it had kept him alive for so long.

After cooking three full breakfasts, he was feeling a lot less shaken by his nightmares. Once he had managed to perfect food to his masters tastes, cooking began to be the most relaxing of his duties. Of course, with the wealth of them, they could have easily hired a butler to do this job, but it was left to Mikaela. At first, he was often punished for not perfecting the food to their unbelievably high standards for such a young person, but he learnt to improve the skill he already had fairly quickly. Though the smell of the traditional Japanese breakfast made his stomach rumble – he would do practically anything for even half of the steamed rice, miso soup, egg omelette and various side dishes which were balanced on each of the trays. Managing to balance one on each hand and another on his arm was also something he'd had no choice but to become accustomed to.

It was a tradition that his masters ate breakfast in bed on Sundays. He decided to get the worst over with sooner and knock on the door of Ferid's room. Though the house was under the Mistress' name, he held almost just as much power as her regarding finances and the same amount regarding Mikaela, perhaps even more so. He acted very calm and collected, which made his flirtatious and cruel ways even more chilling.

Mikaela pushed the door handle down with his spare elbow when he was beckoned inside. Ferid was already sat up in bed, brushing through his long, silver hair. He grinned at the sight of Mikaela.

"Awe, am I the first one you visited this morning? How touching!"

Mikaela didn't say anything as he placed one of the trays down onto Ferid's bedside table, allowing him to lower the tray on his arm down to his other hand.

"Anything else I can get you, Sir?" he asked. He braced himself for an inevitable answer.

"Round two later today, eh?" he asked, giving Mikaela a wink. The boy held in a sigh. Ferid wasn't joking.

"Why are you not answering? Still hurting from yesterday?" Ferid stretched his arms above his head. "Well, I guess I'll have to bribe you, then. How about you can take your precious guest room tonight if you just let me play with you for a while?"

Mikaela swallowed. The grand home had several guest rooms, one of which was rewarded to Mikaela when he pleased one of his masters. Sleeping in proper nightwear and in a comfortable, warm bed was often a dream for him. After the exhaustion he had been feeling recently, sleeping in a normal room was like a blessing from the Gods.

"Yes, Master, thank you," he said, fully aware that he wouldn't have had a choice anyway if his answer had been different.

"That's a good boy. Go on then, you're excused."

Mikaela tried his best to keep his calm composure and not let anger show through when Ferid slapped a hand across his backside as he turned around. Instead, he kept the trays balanced and walked away without another word. He was glad the visit hadn't been any worse. It varied with Ferid per day.

The next was Crowley's room. He was sprawled out under the duvet, his red hair spread across him in all directions. Mikaela rarely had interaction with this Master. He was usually far too preoccupied with two girls he was often accompanied with. The main request he usually had was that Mikaela wore decent clothes when they were staying in the manor. He couldn't care less about much else.

"Put it on the side," he groaned, his head smashed into his pillow. Slightly irritated by the behaviour, Mikaela did as he was told. It had been countless years since he had been able to have a similar attitude, Sunday or not. But at least the visit was quick and allowed him to leave quickly.

The last belonged to Krul. She was the owner of the business the three ran together and was a very complex person. Whilst she seemed to be almost caring for Mikaela at times, she could also be very cold and also rather frightening despite her petite body and long, light pink hair. It was hard to put her personality into words.

But she was the one he always found himself being polite to, because of the times she seemed kind herself, even if it was rare. "Good morning, Krul. Sleep well?"

She let out a rather adorable yawn, rubbing her eyes. "Yeah, it was okay. That smells delicious."

Like she preferred, he placed the tray straight down on her bed. She silently picked up her chopsticks, her composure relaxing when the food entered her mouth. A small smile on her face, she looked up at Mikaela, inspecting his eyes.

"You look exhausted." Whether she felt guilty over this or not was a mystery. It was always hard to tell from her voice. "Make yourself something. I don't think you'll last with just our leftovers."

This statement could have merely been for Krul's own benefit – after all, what was a slave without the ability to function? But Mikaela could always sense something else hidden deep within her words. Perhaps it was a will to do good, not truly shining due to her upbringing and her current surroundings.

He could not be empathetic towards her. After all he had been through, it was impossible to feel bad for her just because of how she was raised, especially with how she could have chosen her own path and embraced a kinder personality. However, he could at least understand her a little, and he was always grateful for her generosity, even if it did not seem to be so on the surface.

And so, he bowed. "Thank you, Mistress."

"Just don't want you collapsing on me, that's all. Also, be sure to clean yourself up and get dressed into something appropriate after that – I have word that soldiers will be going around the city today, giving out invitations to the residents for a ball at the palace. I wouldn't want you to look like a mess at their arrival."

She raised an eyebrow when there was no reply. "Mikaela?"

"Yes, of course," he said quickly and a little loudly, due to being snapped out of his thoughts. "That's fine."

His mind was wandering. A strange excitement welled up inside him. But why? It's not like he'd be able to go himself. There was no possible chance of that happening. Even actual servants would have no hope of attending – his place was here, not there.

His excitement vanished just as quickly as it had appeared. He was quick to leave the room, reality sinking deeper and deeper inside his chest as he trekked back down the stairs.

Hope was temporary: it was an artificial emotion which could never be relied on. He hated himself for allowing happiness to form over something so impossible.

A/N: I hope you enjoyed the first chapter! There will only be a few, as though it's too long for a oneshot, I don't want it to be a very long story. But hopefully you look forward to the rest regardless! Thank you for reading!