New Beginnings
A Princesses of Warcraft Tale
By Jorge Quiñones
Disclaimers: Cinderella, Lady Tremaine, Jacques, Gus, Lucifer, and all things referencing the classic 1950 Disney movie Cinderella are property of The Walt Disney Company. Ner'zhul, Arthas Menethil, Frostmourne, the concept of the Lich King, the Death Knight, and the Deathcharger are property of Blizzard Entertainment. Fourteen years of Warcraft, and going strong! The story elements written within this fanfic are my ideas and belong to me. This was written for fun, not profit. I'm just borrowing the characters for a while. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I'm enjoying writing it. We fanfic writers thrive on feedback, and all comments/questions/flames/etc. Are welcome. Thank you, and enjoy!
Chapter One
Their actions had not broken her. After the countless years of abuse, their actions had not even come as much of a surprise. It was the way they looked at her. She had fulfilled her obligations completely without question or complaint. She had not even had time to construct her dress for the Royal Ball; her friends had created the dress from her stepsisters' scraps and throwaways. Earlier, her stepsisters had sundered the gown in a flurry of rips and tears, each quick to reclaim her discarded trinket for no other reason than their petty jealousy.
Their malicious task done, both stepsisters had smiled their malevolent smiles and simply dropped their ill-gotten scraps at Cinderella's feet. With no more concern than one would show a beaten dog, the stepsisters spun on their heels and made their way towards the door, chatting excitedly about their prospects at the Royal Ball. Their own selfish expectations had quashed any sorrow or regret they might have felt for Cinderella's plight.
Kneeling down to collect the shredded remnants, Cinderella fought hard to hold back the tears that threatened to spill. Such was her inner turmoil that she failed to notice the looming shadow behind her. She cried out in surprise as she felt a sharp pain on the back of her right hand. A detached part of her mind noted the fine polishing of her stepmother's inky-black leather boots. She had also flawlessly cobbled the new wooden sole to the bottom of the boot, the heel of which was pressed into the back of her hand.
Attempting to ignore the pain, Cinderella took a deep breath and slowly, reluctantly, raised her eyes to meet her stepmother's. Ever had the Lady Tremaine looked upon Cinderella with unveiled contempt, but something was different. Cinderella suppressed a shudder as she locked eyes with her stepmother. Vermin had been looked upon with more tolerance by the eyes that now bore into Cinderella. Wincing, but terrified of crying out, the young maiden bit down on her lip but refused to break eye contact, even as the cruel matron shifted her weight ever so slightly grinding her heel into the back of Cinderella's hand.
"You would dare?" The Lady Tremaine's challenge was meant for Cinderella's ears alone; the ragged whisper utterly dripped with venom.
Her instinct, honed from the years of living in the shadow of her stepmother, was to remain silent. Cinderella knew deep down that she had done no wrong. Her resolve hardened as she refused to be kowtowed.
"I did everything that you had as-" Both her reply and resolve were cut short by a barely-contained gasp of pain as both heel and hand received an even more generous helping of the Lady's weight.
Cinderella struggled to maintain eye contact, her shoulders beginning to shake with indignation, pain, and terror. She vaguely noted a warm wetness pooling around her hand and the fact that her stepmother had said nothing further; the Lady Tremaine had no need to. The unfettered rage and raw fury behind her eyes conveyed everything Cinderella needed to know: that she was a necessary evil, as valued in the household as fleas on Lucifer; that she had woefully erred in assuming that even if she had completed all of her chores, she would've been allowed to attend the ball. She had been desperately mistaken in assuming she was a human being.
That final realization finally tore asunder the last delicate thread of resolve Cinderella had left, its shredded remnants cascading around her like the tattered pieces of her dress. She squeezed her eyes shut and hung her head in defeat. The Lady Tremaine's lips curled up into a grin utterly devoid of mirth.