A/N: I'm hoping that Artemis is IC enough. Although, in certain situations who knows what he might do. This story excites me because it combines a few of my favourite things :). Not like it's obvious what those things are or anything...

Life Is No Fairytale

Especially when you're Artemis Fowl

Artemis Fowl sat in front of the mirror in his room. He adjusted his tie and glared at himself in the mirror. His parents were having another party, and again, they were forcing him to attend and make small chat with the guests. Worse yet, they had invited some of his "friends" from St. Bartleby's. He had no friends at Bartleby's. To make this party even worse, he had the sneaking suspicion that his parents had invited some girls his own age.

His mother had taken to quite often asking him about girls. Honestly, there was nothing to say. The only girls he had spoken to recently were Holly and Juliet, and occasionally Minerva. Not much going on there. Of course he and Holly once kissed, but it's not as if anything was going to happen there.

Artemis sighed. He sort of liked Holly. She was different. She was the fit one, the strong but emotional one. While he was the not fit one, the one that had trouble with his emotions, the one that could always hide emotions and reason things out. They fit well and they brought out the best and worst in each other.

But she was an eighty year old elf, and he was an eighteen year old human. Sure they could be friends, but never more.

So now his parents wanted him to go out there and chat and dance with girls who were all the same. They didn't like his appearance, but they liked his money. They didn't like his anti-social behavior, but they liked his genius. Or what they knew of it from rumors.

He couldn't possibly find the right girl here. Any girl his parents would invite would be the daughter of a rich, gold digger businessman. Artemis Fowl did not enjoy parties, and he had the feeling this would be the worst yet.

Ella's father had died about two months earlier. Her stepmother had been devastated, or so she thought. Ella had spent the entire funeral by her side, holding her hand.

Her father had been a businessman, not a CEO or anything, but he spent plenty of time traveling and pitching new product ideas to wealthy CEO. Her father had worked hard for what they had had.

Once the funeral proceedings had been done with, all the relatives gone, her stepmother had told her something.

"Your father left no money to you in his will, Ella," she had said, looking down at her with pity, "You have nothing."

At first Ella had believed her, her stepmother allowed her to stay in the small attic room and do chores around the house to earn her keep. Then she found a soaked paper in the yard, the ink running, barely readable.
It read, My entire estate to my only daughter, Ella Brooks.

It was then that Ella realized what her stepmother had done. She had forged the will. The only proof Ella had of this was in the soaked paper in her hand, even as she thought, it ripped and crumbled. It was little more than shreds of paper, smeared with black and blue ink. Unrecognizable.

So she did chores for her stepmother; washed the dishes, swept, mopped. She worked nearly from day until night, until one day, a letter arrived.

Her stepsisters clunked down the stairs clumsily in their high-heeled shoes. One turned to where she was mopping, and sneering said, "Hello Ella."

Ella watched them continue down the stairs, dresses held up clumsily to prevent themselves from tripping over them. As if they need any help with that, Ella snickered to herself.

Her stepmother began to step, stiffly with her head held high, down the stairs. Her neck looked longer than a swan's.

There was a knock at the door. Ella's head snapped around to face it. Her stepmother stepped in front of her, reaching the door in four long strides. She opened it, instantly changed to the gracious host. It was almost comical, how her surly expression was instantly changed into a gracious smile.

"Why hello." her stepmother crooned, cocking her head to one side. "How can I help you?"

Ella craned her neck to see around the door. A small stout man with a puffed chest stood on the other side of the door. He had on a huge plastered banana peel grin. "Hello, Madam. I bring an invitation from the Fowl household for Mr. Brooks and his family." He held out a small ornately calligraphed envelope.

Her stepmother started. "Oh, I apologize, sir. My husband sadly passed away a few months ago." She turned her head away, winking at Ella.

At that moment, Ella wanted to spit in her face. Of course she would never do that. Her father had brought her up right. Always be polite. Love your enemies, were what her father had told her. She would follow that now more than ever.

The stout man replied, "I am so sorry for your loss, Madam." He paused, "Your family is of course still invited. The Fowls certainly hope to see you there."

"Thank you, Sir." Her stepmother replied kindly. She closed the door, instantly snapping Ella out of her trance and back to her work.

A/N: Let me know what you think, write me a review please!