"Tighter!" Charlotte screeched in my ear. I pulled the corset strings tighter and she grunted in frustration. Her already labored breath only added to the list of why this corset couldn't be cinched any tighter. I tied off the ends of the garment and stood back up. My back ached from the long day behind me. Tonight though, the stepmother and sisters were going out, this time to a gala. For the first time in weeks I was going to have a night off.

Well, it wasn't exactly a night off, but it was a night without them around. I would still spend the time polishing silver and sewing the latest fashion of dresses for my stepsisters: Charlotte and Victoria. Out of the two of them, Victoria was nicer.

"Ella?" Victoria called me over sweetly. I stepped closer to where she sat at the dressing table in front of the mirror.

"Yes?" I asked.

"How do you think the duke would like my hair? I am sure I will secure him tonight," she began. "But everything needs to be perfect!"

I smiled. Victoria had been trying desperately to make the grand duke of the land fall in love with her for the past few months when she became totally and utterly in love with him. I hoped for her sake that it would all work out. I decided to braid strands of her beautiful chocolate brown hair and fastened it atop her head. A few pearl-headed pins shined iridescently in the candlelight of the room.

Victoria glanced up from her needlework, which lay delicately in her lap, to see her reflection in the mirror. "Oh, Ella," She said. "That looks lovely!"

I nodded simply and glanced at Victoria's sister as she snapped, "Cinderella!" The nasty nickname rolled easily off of her tongue.

I scurried over to her as swiftly as possible and helped her step into her dress. Everything I did for Charlotte I had to do fast because she was quick to hit if she didn't get her way. The fading bruise on my cheek only accented the matter. I tied the laces of the back of the gown that I had slaved days over. It was a horrid chartreuse green color, clashing terribly with Charlotte's pale skin.

I, of course, hadn't chosen the fabric. The Tremaine women always had their fair share of choices. They just tended to pick horrible ones. The family didn't use a village seamstress. Because I was gifted with a needle I could practically create anything. If only it didn't take so much of my time and effort.

After styling Charlotte's hair, I helped Victoria into her sapphire colored dress. It looked very fine on her, making her brown hair look all the nicer. Victoria had let me chose the fabric for this one, along with the design. What I didn't tell her was that it was one of my own originals. I was quite pleased with the outlook.

Meanwhile, Charlotte was trying to decide which jewels she was going to wear. As the eldest, she always had first pick of everything. Victoria was never cross with her, but it did seem to annoy her that Charlotte always wore the jewelry that would look better with her outfit.

"Sister dearest!" Charlotte called in a sickly-sweet voice. "What do you think of this ring with my gown?"

Charlotte held out her gloved arm to her sister, and out of habit I glanced down at the ring finger of her right hand. A lovely white crystal stone glittered there on her finger, but it wasn't that which made the breath expel from my lungs. It was the fact that the crystal had been carved into the shape of a water lily.

A ring of exact looks had always been on my mother's right hand ring finger. It had been her mother's wedding ring, and she had meant to pass it down to me when she had died when I was seven. My grandmother's name was Lily.

"Where did you get that?" I asked, my voice barely coming out as a whisper. Charlotte began to prattle on about its beauty, "Isn't it just marvelous? Mother gave it to me for my presentation at court."

I swallowed. That couldn't be true. "But—" I began to say then shut my mouth. Only one thing could be received from an argument such as this, and that was a firm lashing. If I had disagreed with her, I would have been beaten for sure. The Lady Tremaine would not tolerate something such as this. And she reminded me every day that I owned nothing in this house. Not one thing.

By the time I pulled myself out of my thoughts, my two stepsisters had already stepped into their dancing slippers and exited the room. I glanced at my dingy grey skirt and brown outer corset. There had been a time that I would have thought I would be dressing up as they did for balls and galas, but that time had come to a close. When my father died, I was reminded every day that I was a burden upon my own home had to pay for that burden through work.

I sighed, blew out the candles in the room, and then descended my way downstairs to see the three women off. They were to be driven to the gala by Markus, the valet, who had been taking them places for the past six years. However, he seemed to be late tonight.

At last someone knocked at the door and I rushed to open it. To my surprise, it was a messenger boy, and not Markus who was standing there.

"Can I help you?" I asked.

"I think so." He answered. "Is this the home of Lady Tremaine?"

I nodded and he continued, "I am sorry to tell you, ma'am, but Markus won't be coming tonight. He has fallen deathly ill, ma'am."

I gasped quietly and placed a hand over my mouth, "Is he alright?"

"He should be," the boy replied. "I was told to bring this carriage around, ma'am, but I need to get back soon, so I can't drive it for you. I'll be back in the morning to pick it up."

I nodded again, understanding what he was saying. Then the boy ran off down the lane. I turned back inside where my stepmother stood tapping her foot expectantly at me.

"Markus is ill and won't be coming," I relayed the message to her. Lady Tremaine's frown deepened. She thought for a moment then said, "Go change, girl. You will have to escort us. But let me make one thing clear, Cinderella, under no circumstances are you to enter the party."

"I understand." I said, then darted up the stairs, slipping into the servant's stairways and up to my attic bedroom. I stripped my clothes quickly, throwing on a clean (but old) brown skirt, a peach colored peasant blouse and my over corset once more. I scrubbed my face with the water in the cracked porcelain bowl, but left my hair as it was. It had hardly ever been cut since my stepmother had arrived and now reached lower than my hips. Blonde and curly, it was tucked into the folds of a French braid.

Though I didn't have a mirror in my bedroom, I felt confident that I looked alright. I skipped down the steps back to where my stepfamily was waiting and helped them into the carriage before they could begin complaining about how long I took. I hopped onto the outside driver's seat and flicked the reigns. My stepmother considered that a woman sitting in a man's position was humiliating, but I disagreed. I loved my place. I got to see everything from a bird's eye view.

Joining me on the bench was my father's old knight's sword. I didn't leave the manor without it. Before he died, my father was a Lord who served his kingdom loyally. He taught me more than good manners. He taught me how to fight. The village boys used to laugh when I challenged them to duels. They weren't laughing when I beat them, fair and square.

Now I hardly used the sword. But I still carried it with me when I went out. It wasn't safe, my father said, for young women to walk about without protection. He knew he wouldn't be around forever to protect me and I respected him for that.

Tonight, the gala was being held at a high noble's manor. The woman of the house had been friends with the queen, so it was certain that the royal family would make an appearance. That was also the reason why the invitations for this event were so sought after. I personally didn't know why my stepfamily was invited, but I didn't question it. As we pulled into the circular driveway I smiled in awe. It was beautiful, and I missed seeing sights like it.

When my parents were still alive, we went to many parties. I don't remember many in particular, being as young as I was, but what I do remember was a blur of colors and music. Oh, the music! It poured out of the house in a mixture of liveliness and beauty. Whenever I heard music my heart just wanted to leap into the steps of a dance. I was supposed to be a lovely dancer, but when stepmother came, I stopped. There just wasn't a reason anymore. I had only danced to please my parents.

Stopping before the steps up to the entryway, I opened the carriage door to let the women out. After using my hand to step down they completely ignored me. I was used to it though. This was the life I had succumbed to. Misuse, hurt…it was all the same now. The Tremaine women told the valet guards that I was the one to call for when they wanted to leave, pointing in my direction. The valet guards glanced in confusion towards me. I understood. It was unusual for a girl to be an escort. I shrugged and clambered back to the top of the bench. It wasn't my problem that they felt uncomfortable. I pulled around the corner of the house and parked next to the rest of the carriages. Now all I had to do was wait.

That would be completely and utterly boring. I couldn't even catch up on a good book because it was now nighttime. I clattered down from my perch and strapped the sword to my left side with a belt. My left hand held the handle as I decided to take a walk around the gardens, giving myself a private tour. It was beginning to get colder in the seasons, so the outside wasn't a part of the party open to guests. Humming to myself, I looked at the beautiful trellises and perfectly manicured bushes.

There was so much loveliness in the world, and even I sometimes forgot to admire it. But, there were moments, though few, that I could cherish in quiet harmony, as though nothing could change those moments within my memory. I was touring the hedge maze now, and had made it to the center. I sighed and came to rest on a bench overlooking a nice swan fountain. It wasn't running now, in fear that the cold nights could cause the water to freeze.

A twig snapped behind me and I jumped unfetishly to my feet. My right hand moved to my swords handle, ready to lift it out easily into the air. I looked to where the sound was, but there was nothing there. I frowned. I knew I had heard something.

"Is someone there?" I called out hesitantly. There was no response. I drew my sword silently and leveled it in my hand, deciding to creep around the corner to see if there was anything that could have made noise. There was a pin drop in that garden opening. I turned quickly around the corner.

A man clad in all black clothing shrieked as I revealed my position. He leaped backwards away from the sword, naturally. His hands went up in a way of peace, but no sooner had I blinked and he took off running. I grunted, knowing I would chase after him. I sheathed my sword and followed quickly. I knew if something—anything— went wrong tonight, Stepmother would find a way to blame it on me. I had to catch the man before he disturbed anything.

We whirled throughout the hedge maze, the man twisting and turning as he tried to get me lost. It did him no good, however, because I was gaining on him as we exited the maze and stumbled into the rest of the garden. As the chap took the garden steps two at a time, I was slowed down. Then on the final stair, I crashed to the ground, my skirt getting caught with my feet. Damn women's etiquette of long skirts! They just made everything more difficult.

I pulled my body back to my feet and took chase again, just as he entered the manor. I reached the building and faltered. I was not, under any circumstances, supposed to enter the building. But what else was I supposed to do?

I weighed the pros and the cons. Fine. I would go in.

I stepped inside, and was met with a kitchen in a state of distress. There were pans and food littering the floor. Maids and workers fluttered about in torment.

"What are we supposed to do?!" A tired woman shrieked. There was flour on her face and in her hair. I noticed the large smashed cake on the floor and felt horrible. One man had run through here and had caused this much destruction?

People were starting to take notice of me and my rather sharp weapon.

"Where did he go?!" I asked nervously at the person nearest me. She only pointed and I ran in that direction, leaving her with a dazed look on her face. As I went through the corridors I followed the track of flour and other baking necessities on the marble floors. When I emerged from the hallways I just followed the sounds of clangs of swords and the screeching of hopeless women.

Then I found myself within the doorways of the manor's elegant ballroom. I analyzed the scene. There were eight men in total around the room. Three were pointing weapons at the crowd, two were on the other side of the room bagging countless, priceless artifacts, another two restraining a man whose face I couldn't see, and one man stood in the center of it all, basking in the glory of his evil plans. Well, he was about to have a problem.

The element of surprise was my friend. I drew my sword silently again and charged the man in the middle. Along with the artifacts, the look on his face was priceless. As was mine when he countered my strike just in time. What now? I parried as the man lashed out. Suddenly I remember a move my father had taught me. It was really, really difficult to carry out, but I might as well give it a try, right?

I faked left then threw my sword up into the air. Just as I heard incredulous murmurs and whimpers from the crowd I dove through my opponent's legs, kicking them out from under him, and shoving myself to my feet just as the sword landed back into my hand. I pointed it at him proudly and wanted to squeak at my success. I had been practicing that move for so long!

The man graveled under the point of my weapon. I kicked his sword away, in the direction of the restrained man I had seen earlier. In the few seconds that I had defeated the leader one of the other men had released one of the man's arms and had advanced towards me. I backhanded the leader's head so he was now unconscious.

Then another man's hands closed around my throat. I choked, trying to squeeze enough air into my lungs to stay awake. I was losing consciousness when I found enough strength to pull out the dagger that had been strapped to my tormentor's hip. I shoved it into his thigh roughly. He screamed in reply, dropping his meaty hands from my neck. I coughed, making a noise that complied with the fact I had almost been strangled to death. Precious oxygen filled my lungs once more, and I coarsely got my breath back.

The ballroom had taken on an even crazier, chaotic state than it had before. People were fleeing towards the doorways and I didn't blame them. I would rather be anywhere but here too. Perhaps a different country, even. I picked up my sword from where I had dropped it and struck the man with a knife in his leg. It was a simple round house kick, knocking him to the floor so he couldn't get up.

I turned my attention to the rest of them. They had circled the former restrained man and were closing in on him. I sighed. So predictable. Honestly, could the get a bit more creative. I decided to help, ramming into one of the men who turned out to be fighting with a dagger. He slashed at my face, and soon I felt my face grow warmer, my hot, sticky blood gushing from the wound. I groaned at the inconvenience. It stung like hell, but I just stabbed him in the shin to take him down.

The grimace on my face worsened as I knocked yet another guy out. I coughed and spit. It came out bloody. Great. I glanced around me. Only one other man had been dispatched. I ignored my pain and dove through the legs of another man. I rolled to my feet, my position perfectly in tune with the man fighting the other bad guys. We were both fighting two at once. In between blows he yelled to me.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?!"

"Nice to meet you too!" I shouted back, ducking a strike. Out of nowhere I felt something slash my leg and I collapsed to one knee. I slashed one man squarely in the place where light does not shine. To say he went down screaming would be an understatement. Oops. Looks like he won't be having kids. The man scrambled away from me, then tripped, in a very undignified manner, if I do say.

Then I was kicked in the head.

The blow sent me completely to floor and I coughed up more blood. The sight of it made me woozy. I had lost way too much, leaving me disoriented and seeing double. I tried to get back to my feet, but couldn't. A fatal blow was going to be administered any second now. Before I could stay awake to witness my own execution my eyes rolled backwards. Like a candle being blown out, I fell asleep.