Cinderella stared at the glistening buildings with a soft, wistful smile on her face. She could see the dancing, feel the music, the soft hands holding her waist as she twirled and twirled. But it wasn't the same palace. Cinderella wasn't even sure it was a palace. But it looked like Prince Charmant's. It sparkled in the sunlight like his had.
"Sing, sweet Nightingale," Cinderella sang gently, her eyes not faltering once from the brilliance as her hands scrubbed at the kitchen counter tops. "Sing, sweet Nightingale. Hi-i-i-i-igh above..." The twinkling of a bell cut the daydream sharply, and Cinderella was disappointed when the Prince she had been dancing with in her head ceased to exist immediately.
"Cinderella!" came the shouting, squeaky voices of her horrible step-sisters. Of the bride-to-be. Of Anastasia and Drizella. The bride-to-be. It made Cinderella feel like her heart was in her throat. Like she was on the ship back home, her heart feeling like it had been shattered and forced through her chest. Forced her to breathe in the shards as the world took away from her what she cared for most. Her prince. Her beautiful, kind, handsome prince. "I need your help lifting these boxes!"
Boxes. Boxes that would help her move to Belgium, to be the future Queen of Belgium. A position that had been stolen from her. She still didn't understand how it had happened. Everything had been wonderful, perfect. Her prince had come searching for her, and she had been locked away. And when she was freed, it was too late. And Lady Tremaine had shattered the second slipper. Though Cinderella had no idea how she knew it was there.
"You don't have to help that nasty girl," a withered voice sounded. Cinderella gave a shout in fright and the scrub brush tumbled from her hand into the depths of the soap and water filled sink. Cinderella spun, spotting an elderly woman, dressed in tattered rags at the dutch door, leaning on the sill. Her smile was what Cinderella was intended to be pleasant, if her teeth hadn't rotted so much.
"Goodness, you gave me a fright," Cinderella laughed quietly. "I'm terribly sorry. Would you like to have a seat?" The woman slowly pushed open the door and Cinderella quickly wiped off her wet hands onto her apron before approaching the old woman, offering an arm to help her get through the doorway. Cinderella quickly pulled out a wooden chair at the kitchen table and the woman sat heavily. "Would you like some tea?"
"If it's no trouble," the woman insisted.
"None at all," Cinderella promised lightly. She glanced towards the bells worriedly when she heard them ring once more. How long would it take until Lady Tremaine or Anastasia came down to investigate? Cinderella moved the kettle onto the stove, lighting the gas quickly before turning towards the woman. "Are you lost? Or visiting?"
"A little bit of both," the woman said with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "What is your name, dear?"
"Cinderella," the blonde said gently. She sat down next to the woman. "Who are you?"
"I'm your Godmother," the woman said simply. Cinderella felt herself frown slightly in confusion. The woman didn't look anything like either of her parents. The deep set wrinkles were burrowed around her large blue eyes. And her gray hair was frazzled. The only thing resembling her father was the eyes. It had to have been a woman on her father's side.
"I'm sorry... I don't have a Godmother," Cinderella admitted. "My step-mother is my guardian."
The woman gave a worn chuckle, patting Cinderella's hand gently. "Perhaps this will refresh your memory?" Her elder form shimmered and Cinderella gave a gasp, jerking upright from her seat as she turned into an elegant looking woman with a dark blue dress and light brown hair. She looked precisely like her father, if her father had been a woman.
"How did... how did you do that?" Cinderella gasped out.
"It's called magic," the woman said with a warm laugh. "And you have it yourself."
"What?" Cinderella murmured. "No, I don't. I..."
"Has something ever happened that you couldn't explain?" Cinderella felt many things fell under that category. "The mending of a dress after it tore? Fire's starting?" The woman glanced around the home. "Maybe hair growing back after it had been cut crudely, overnight?"
"I really wanted to go to a ball a few months ago, and I wasn't allowed," Cinderella admitted. "And once Lady Tremaine and her daughters were gone, my tattered dress turned into the most beautiful gown and my slippers were made of pure glass. And I was transported to the palace in Belgium. And at midnight, I was transported back here, my clothing still the same."
"My, that is extraordinary!" the woman cried, and it seemed that she believed every word of it, nevermind that Cinderella thought it was a bit crazy herself. "To do that all in the matter of what would you say? Minutes? Seconds? And at once, without a wand!" Her dark blue eyes held Cinderella's, and she grasped the girl's hands, pulling her back into the seat. "Your father was just like that, always showing off. Has there been anything else?"
"I can talk to mice and birds," Cinderella said after a moment of hesitation. "And they talk back."
The woman no longer seemed to be laughing. She stared at Cinderella, and her face was serious. Had Cinderella said something wrong? Oh, no, the woman really did believe Cinderella was crazy. "You can?" she asked seriously.
Cinderella swallowed and jumped when the kettle began to whistle. She moved to stand, but the woman kept her grip on Cinderella's hands, and Cinderella was forced to sit. "It started when I was young, after my father died. And it never stopped."
She met Cinderella's eyes and said in a voice that never waivered. "Do not tell anyone about this unless you're certain they won't use it against you."
Was it a horrible thing? Would she be locked up? "Why...? What's wrong with it?"
The woman gave a small sigh. "My name is Maryse Zezolla. I am your father's sister." Cinderella suspected it so. "When your father died, I lost all contact with you. I was supposed to take care of you, raise you right. But it was too dangerous. It's still too dangerous. But here isn't safe anymore. And that is why I've come."
"What do you mean it's not safe? Lady Tremaine and her two daughters are moving to Belgium in October, for Anastasia's wedding. I'll have the home to myself."
"And that is precisely why it isn't safe," Maryse stated firmly. "This home is safe, while Muggles live here. Those are those without magic, like Lady Tremaine. Once they are gone, you will be in danger. They will find you and they will hurt you until they take can convince you to give them your father's fortune."
"Father didn't have a fortune," Cinderella said quietly. "And if he did, it would have gone to Lady Tremaine."
"Not if it was a Wizarding fortune," Maryse smiled.
"Cinderella!" a voice roared in the system, the bells ringing wildly. "Help Anastasia pack her boxes into the truck!"
"We can leave right now," Maryse proposed. "And you'll never have to see them again." But leaving meant Anastasia would get married, and Cinderella would never have her chance to see the Prince again. "We'll pack your things, and we'll leave."
"But... my friends, the mice-"
"You'll be able to come back once it's safe. But we need to leave now. Before your step mother sees me." Maryse rose, and Cinderella grabbed the kettle, pulling it off the fire. "You're a good girl. Incredibly trusting. I'm going to be taking you to a group of people that will lay down their life to protect the Zezolla heiress." This was all so much. An heiress? Cinderella scrubbed floors all day. "And I have to go back into hiding."
"Hiding? I don't understand what's going on," Cinderella insisted. "Who is trying to hurt me?"
"I can't explain it here," Maryse insisted. "Take me to your room, we'll pack, and then we have to go."
Cinderella nodded and gestured towards the stairs. "Up here." And Maryse was following her, into the shabby room that gave her a spectacular view of the tall glass buildings. Her wardrobe was full of tattered dresses that had been through years of cleaning. And the brilliant shimmering blue gown from the ball. Maryse gently touched the soft fabric, as if awed.
"It's magnificent. Stitching and the detail... This is a masterpiece."
"Can I take it with me?" Cinderella asked quietly.
"Absolutely." Maryse helped her fold it before she produced a small bag, fitting all of Cinderella's things into it. Once everything was packed, she looked around the room.
"It's strange," Cinderella admitted. "I grew up my entire life in this room. And it can be packed in a single bag."
"Where you're going, you'll have much more than this. You'll live right."
Cinderella just nodded. Wherever was safest. "Do we have enough time for me to say goodbye to the mice?" she asked her godmother. Maryse hesitated slightly, before giving a short nod. "I'll be quick."
"I'll be waiting by the door."
Cinderella nodded and the woman left, her bag tight around her shoulder. Once Maryse's footsteps disappeared, Cinderella turned back towards her bed and spotted Mary, Gus, and Jaq standing at her footboard.
"I have to go away for a little while," Cinderella said quietly. "So ... take care of yourselves. No teasing Lucifer. And make sure you wash up before dinner." Tears began to cloud her vision and she quickly blinked them away. "And be nice to everyone. Don't be seen by Lady Tremaine. There's enough food for you to last a little while."
"How long will you be gone?" Mary squeaked.
"I'm not sure." Cinderella sat down on her bed, giving the small mice a soft smile. "Be sure to tell the others I said goodbye. And I will miss you all dearly." Cinderella could hear the thundering footsteps of her stepmother coming down the stone staircase over their heads. "I have to go," Cinderella said suddenly. "Goodbye."
She rushed down the stairs, and Maryse grabbed her arm. "I heard them," Maryse said urgently. "Take a deep breath." Cinderella did as ordered and filled her lungs. And then the world seemed to compress and stretch into a never ending blackness.
