Disclaimer: We don't own Stargate: Atlantis or even the character Rodmilla
A/N Tinuviel Undomiel: I love this story because, like all girls, I love fairy tales. I sincerely hope you enjoy this story and maybe it will help you believe in fairy tale true love again. We borrowed the character Rodmilla from Ever After because she was the best evil stepmother I had ever seen.
A/N Nerwen Aldarion: This little idea popped up while watching Ever After waaay too many times, sort of a mixture of Ever After, Ella Enchanted, Stargate: Atlantis and the book The Princess Bride. It is sarcastic funny, action adventure and a little naughty. Have fun.
A Simple Fairy Tale
Prologue: Once Upon A Time…
Stories are wings that carry you away into distant lands. You listen to them with an eager ear while your mind drifts into the adventure. You might ask yourself how these stories start, where they began. Well that is simple enough. While legends and myths are filled with falsehoods, all stories have a grain of truth in them. As they are passed on through the generations, the storyteller uses their right to embellish the tale to add more thrill and meat to the story.
This story we are about to tell you is the bare facts. Perhaps you have heard this before. It has been branded a fairy tale and watered down so it can be told to young children before they drift off to sleep. This is not a children's story, nor is it a fairy tale exactly. Just because fairies and other magical elements are in this tale doesn't mean it is a story meant for the young.
You don't believe in magic? Why ever not? Just because you have never seen a fairy doesn't mean they don't exist. Perhaps this tale will open your eyes again, just like when you were a child when you did believe in magic.
You know the story I am about to tell I see. You laugh and call it the paltry name Cinderella, but you don't know the other half of it. The years and years of telling the story have stripped it of the facts. Let me show you how it really was. Let me help you believe in magic.
Ah yes, now to begin. How about I start with four familiar words?
Once Upon a Time…
In the kingdom of Carida lived a young noble woman. While it was expected of her, like in most kingdoms, for her to marry a duke or a count this woman fell in love with a simple merchant. Unlike most noble parents, this woman's mother and father were quite happy that she chose a merchant over a duke or a count and welcomed her husband.
Within the first year of their marriage, the noble woman and her merchant gave birth to a daughter who they named Elizabeth. They were not alone when their child was born, their cook Andra was present as well as three fairies.
I heard you groan at the word fairies. I told you already that this is the true story and that fairies exist. If you can't get that through your thick skull then get out of the room! Now, where was I?
It is a rarity for fairies to attend births and it might seem strange that they would choose this ordinary couple. You see, this noble woman had an extraordinary guardian, a fairy godmother. Fairy godmothers and godfathers are gifts very few people receive. Years and years ago, this noble woman's great great great great grandfather saved the life of a fairy. Fairies take debts seriously and life debts are the highest honor anyone can receive. In return for his rescue, she promised to guard him and his descendents until the bloodline ended.
As the fairies gathered around the sleeping infant they foresaw a vision of the future. You see, this child had a destiny in front of her that would change Carida forever.
Once the vision passed, one fairy stepped forward and smiled at the babe.
"I see great loss striking you at an early age," she said, "I see you beaten and tired from the labors of the wicked. You will be a flower sprung from the mud, beautiful but forgotten. You must be kind to those who need it and cunning against those who seek to destroy you. Remember, the truth will defeat any lie but never wait until it is too late for it to be vanquished. And never forget that love may be a risk but it is also the greatest joy."
Then the fairies gathered themselves and left but they kept a watchful eye over the child and her parents. When the girl was five, her mother died of the Red Fever, an incurable ailment. The child and her father grieved for their loss but as time passed they grew closer than ever before.
You look bored. Is that because this sounds like the same fairy tale you were told as a child? I did say there was some truth to the story. You say that there is no kingdom of Carida. Perhaps not now but not all history is written in books. Oh, and now you don't like her name. Let me ask you, what parent in their right mind would name their daughter Cinderella? At last you are silent.
Now to continue with the story, here is where Elizabeth's troubles really begin.
Sunlight glittered down through the green leaves of the oak trees and birds chirped the good fortune of the lovely spring day. A grey manor house overlooked the simple farm and seemed the stand proudly over its rich ground. Servants bustled about with their chores, the men working the fields while the women cooked and did the laundry.
An older woman with silver hair bent over the oven and took out a tray of baked cookies. She placed them on the stone table and wiped the sweat from her wrinkled brow. The only part of this woman that looked young were her light blue eyes, the same shade of the sky. These eyes smiled at the luscious dessert and then looked around in surprise.
"Oh where has she gone to now?" she asked to no one in particular. "Ellie?" she asked to the air but there was no response. "Ellie?" she asked again louder. "Elizabeth, where are you?!"
Elizabeth was no where near enough to her the woman calling for her. In fact, she was not even in the manor. She was outside, picking yellow and pink flowers and gathering them into a small bouquet. Once she decided she had enough, she walked over to a gated corner of the grounds. The iron gate creaked as she pushed it open and then closed it behind her. The grass in here was thick and well kept with no weeds to be found. Several stone slabs were planted in neat rows with inscriptions carved on their faces.
Elizabeth walked up to one stone and knelt down on her knees in front of it. The writing sculpted elegantly on the front said Driana Weir, Loving Wife and Mother. She placed the bouquet in front of the headstone and gave it a sad smile.
"Hello mother," she said, "It's me, Elizabeth. I don't know if you can tell, but everyone has been busy on the manor lately. You see, daddy has been gone for about a month now and he's coming back today, but he's not alone."
She paused in her speech and shifted her position so she was sitting on her skirt in the grass. "Daddy left to get his new wife. Please don't be too upset. He told me that he would always love you, but he said that I needed a new mother." A tear leaked out of the corner of her eye and rolled down her cheek. "My new mother will never replace you though, even if she is bringing with her two sisters. I promise to come here and talk to you every day, that won't change. And I swear to never love my new mother as much as I love you."
She stood up and pressed her fingers to her lips before placing them on top of the stone. "Goodbye, mother," Elizabeth said before leaving the family cemetery.
She walked over to the fields and watched the men tend the vegetables and picking apples from the orchard. Ethan was the head of the menservants and kept a watchful eye over his charges. When Elizabeth appeared at his side he gave her a smile. "Are you anxious for your father to come home?"
She nodded, "Do you think he'll bring presents?"
"Doesn't he always?"
"Ethan!" Marta called as she walked up to her husband carrying a basket of freshly folded linen, "We need a man to catch a chicken for the dinner tonight. With the new mistress coming it has to be special."
"Yes, dear."
"Ellie, Andra was looking for you," Marta informed the girl.
Elizabeth's green eyes brightened, "The cookies! Thanks Marta!" she called before rushing off to the manor house.
She threw open the front door and left it like that as she ran through the main hall. Her shoes slipped on the polished stone and she nearly fell. She managed to gather her balance again and continued her sprint to the kitchen. The dining room was being set by two servants with a white lace table cloth. They looked up when they saw the girl run past them. Elizabeth opened the door the kitchen where she saw Andra mixing eggs in a bowl.
"There you are," Andra stated upon seeing her, "I made those cookies upon your request and then you take off without saying a word."
"I'm sorry, Andra," she apologized, "I went to talk to my mother."
Her scolding look fell and she placed the plate of cookies in front of Elizabeth. "Did you talk to her about your new stepmother?"
Elizabeth nodded, "I wanted her to understand that just because I'm getting a new mother doesn't mean I won't love her anymore."
"I'm sure she understood."
She took a bite of her cookie. "Do you think the wedding was nice?"
"I'm sure it was lovely."
"Do you think Daddy missed me?"
Andra smiled and brushed the crumbs from her chin with a rag, "I'm sure he did."
"I wish he didn't have to miss my birthday."
"I know, sweetheart, but the baroness had scheduled the wedding on that day." Andra sifted flour into the mixing bowl and handed Elizabeth the spoon for her to stir. "Imagine how surprised he'll be when he sees he sees how much you've grown now that you're eight."
"That's true," Elizabeth said as she carefully stirred the mixture, "I hope my stepsisters like me."
"They are both close to your age so I imagine all three of you will have a lot of fun together."
"Do you think the baroness will like me?"
"She will love you," Andra declared, "You are the sweetest child ever born in Carida, I've said that many times."
Elizabeth smiled, "Thanks."
Marta rushed into the kitchen panting to catch her breath. "The master has arrived!"
"Daddy!" Elizabeth exclaimed and pushed the bowl aside so she could race past Marta.
All of the servants were gathering in a line outside of the manor and Ethan was walking in front of them making sure they stood up straight. Sir Henry Weir rode up on his horse from the road leading to the manor. A carriage led by four horses prodded along a short distance behind him.
Henry stopped his horse in front of his servants and climbed down. "Good to see you again, Ethan."
"Welcome home, master," her replied as he took the reins from his hands. "How bodes our new mistress?"
"She is well and anxious to meet her new daughter."
The patter of small footsteps caught Henry's attention and he smiled as the front door burst open and a blur of blue silk and lace rushed towards him. "Daddy!"
He opened his arms and she leapt into them. They laughed as he twirled her around and peppered her curly brown hair with kisses.
When he finally put her back down he stayed bent over so they were eye level. "I missed you so much," his daughter said.
"And I you," he replied and kissed her cheek, "Oh I wish I could have brought you with me. On many nights I found myself ready to saddle my horse and cart you away like a thief."
They hugged again but the sound of carriage wheels crushing the earth broke them apart. It came up to the manor house and stood still. Elizabeth stared at the windows covered with lace and felt her throat tighten. Her heart thudded in her chest.
Ethan came up to the door of the carriage and opened it. A small figure stepped forward and revealed itself to be a pretty black haired girl perhaps a year or two older than Elizabeth. She sniffed at the manor and stepped off to the side.
"This is your stepsister, Joceline," Henry whispered in his daughter's ear.
Another girl appeared, this time closer to her age, with red-brown hair instead of black. A silver chain with a blue stone hung over her chest. She peered at the manor with curiosity and her gaze stopped at Elizabeth. She looked at her new stepsister for several moments before stepping to the opposite side of the carriage, facing her sister.
"Your other stepsister, Teyla," her father said. But Elizabeth could barely hear him. All of her focus was on the final new member of her family yet to appear.
A lily white hand emerged first. The fingers were adorned with several glittering rings and white lace peeked at the wrist. Ethan gently grasped the hand and at last her stepmother stepped free from the carriage.
Baroness Rodmilla Emmagen eyed first the manor and then the servants. Unlike with her daughters, Elizabeth couldn't tell if she admired or detested her new home. Her eyes were blank. At last those opaque blue eyes fell on her stepdaughter. At her gaze, Elizabeth's heart reached an impossible rhythm. Her father and the servants disappeared; all that was left was her and those terrifying eyes.
Rodmilla broke the stare and smiled at her husband. "Henry, everything is picturesque. It's so much lovelier than I ever could have imagined."
"Milla, may I introduce my daughter, Elizabeth," Henry said, "Ellie, this is Rodmilla, your stepmother."
Her smile changed as it turned towards Elizabeth. For some reason, it seemed less real to the young child. "At last we meet. Your dear father rarely speaks of anything else. I feel we know each other already."
Rodmilla clapped her hands. "Ladies, greet your new sister." Joceline and Teyla stepped forward and curtsied elegantly.
Elizabeth smiled, "Hello."
Joceline's face remained blank but Teyla gave her a small smile.
While her father spoke to his wife about the plans he had for the manor, Elizabeth watched as Ethan and the other servants removed the luggage from the carriage. She recognized her father's one trunk but stared wide eyed and the multitude still being unloaded. Did all three of them need this much stuff?
Her eyes found her stepmother again. She was extraordinarily beautiful with the same black hair as Joceline's and deep blue eyes. Her skin was so white that Elizabeth wondered how it was possible for it to be so colorless. She found herself staring at her own brown hands and touched her unkempt curls. Her stepsisters had been traveling all day but she saw that their dresses were unwrinkled. They didn't move from their spots by the carriage.
She had been both excited and frightened when she first learned that she was getting and mother and sisters, now all that was left was a cold shiver running down her spine.
That night Elizabeth giggled as her father chased her around her bed chamber. One candle was lit by the bedside but the fire in the heart added a rosy glow to the room. She was dressed in her white nightshift and her brown curls were washed and freshly brushed.
Henry cornered her between a chair and the bureau. "I have you now."
Elizabeth laughed and ducked beneath his outstretched arms and raced over to the other side of the bed. Her father dove across the bed and grabbed a hold of her waist before pulling her up with him. They laughed as he held her in his arms.
"Are you leaving soon?" she asked in a quiet tone.
"Not for another two weeks."
"Good," she said, cheerful again.
Henry pulled back the coverlet and she lay between the blankets. He carefully tucked her in and then smiled. "What do you think of them?"
Elizabeth frowned in thought before remarking, "They ate their dinner funny."
He laughed and nodded. "Rodmilla was raised in court; they have more elegant table manners than us." He propped up on his elbow so he was eye level with her. "When you are older you will be introduced to court. Milla will teach you the proper way to behave there."
Her eyes grew heavy with concern. "Does that mean I can't have fun anymore?"
He chuckled, "No of course not. I expect you will teach your new stepsisters how to climb trees and fish in the pond."
"Oh yes!"
Henry laughed again and tucked one of her curls behind her ear. "Do you like them?"
Elizabeth nodded, "Yes." In truth she wasn't really sure. She had barely spoken to her stepmother and sisters.
"I'm glad," he said, "I'm sorry that I missed your birthday."
"It's okay," she assured him.
Henry smiled, "You're growing up so fast. Every day you are looking so much more like your mother."
He sat up suddenly. "That reminds me." Her father left the bed and picked up a bag he had discarded on the floor by the door. Elizabeth sat up to see what he was doing.
When he came back he was carrying something wrapped in blue velvet. He sat down on the bed and uncovered the surprise. Elizabeth gasped at what was revealed.
A glass woman stood gracefully on a small, round mirror. Her dress was painted a pale pink and she had tiny pink shoes on her feet. Her hair was blond and she wore a gold crown over it. Gossamer wings spread from her back. In her hand was a gold wand with a small diamond on the end.
"It's a fairy," he told her as he placed it in her hands, "I thought you would like it."
"I love it!"
Henry laughed, "Your mother wanted me to wait until you were eighteen, but I think you are old enough now." He touched the fairy's hair with his fingertips. "Fairies are very special creatures; did your mother ever tell you about that?"
Elizabeth nodded in reply.
"Well your mother's family had strong ties to the fairies. In fact, you have a fairy godmother."
"Really?" she asked in disbelief.
Henry nodded, "Your mother told me about her the day you were born."
"Can I meet her?"
"I've never met her myself," he admitted, "but perhaps one day you will."
"I hope so," Elizabeth said while staring at her fairy figurine.
Henry put the fairy on the stand next to her bed, "Whenever I'm not here, remember that your fairy godmother will always be looking out for you." He kissed her on the forehead before saying, "Goodnight, Ellie."
"Are you always going to call me that?" she asked.
He frowned, "I thought you liked it."
"I do, but you can't call me that forever."
"I suppose you're right, it really is more of a child's name," he said and paused in thought. He smiled, "When you are older I'll call you Ella."
"Not Elizabeth?"
Henry shook his head, "You are my pet so you need a pet name."
Elizabeth giggled, "You're funny daddy."
He smiled before kissing her on the forehead again, "Good night, Ella, I love you."
"I love you too," she said before he blew out the candle and shut the door.
Several months passed and Elizabeth was still isolated from her stepfamily. She saw them often enough, but they were always sewing or playing lutes. She wasn't entirely sure how to get to know such docile creatures. Her father hadn't been feeling well so she told her complaints to Andra.
"Don't let their coyness intimidate you," she instructed as she measured sugar and dumped it in the bowl Elizabeth was mixing, "Ask them questions; offer to play with your stepsisters."
"I've never seen them play," Elizabeth said.
"Never?"
She shook her head, "All they do is sew, read and play music."
Andra put down her spoon and pursed her lips. "Hmm," she said in thought before saying, "I have an idea. Why don't you go ask your stepsisters if they want to help us make pies? This way you can make friends with them."
Elizabeth's eyes brightened and she smiled. "That's a great idea. I'll go ask them now."
She slid off of her stool and ran out of the kitchen. Upstairs Rodmilla was doing embroidery while Joceline played the harpsichord and Teyla accompanied her on the lute. She looked up from her sewing when she heard the patter of footsteps. Her stepdaughter rushed into the sitting room but she chose to ignore her.
Joceline gave Elizabeth a brief glance before continuing with her music. Teyla stopped altogether and faced her stepsister, giving her a light smile.
"Hello," Elizabeth said timidly, "The village is having a feast tomorrow. It's for the coming summer. Everyone bakes sweets and there is dancing. They even pick a King and Queen of Roses."
"Does any of this have a point?" Joceline stopped her playing to ask.
"Andra and I were baking pies for the festival and we were wondering if you wanted to help."
Rodmilla raised her head, "You help your servants with their chores?"
"Sometimes," Elizabeth replied, "When I'm not playing or reading."
"You should never assist your servants, dear," her stepmother said, "Otherwise they feel that they are your equal and are too good to do the jobs they are paid for."
"Daddy doesn't mind my helping."
"He wouldn't, would he," she said to herself, "Don't you play any instruments?"
"No."
"What about embroidery?"
Elizabeth shook her head.
"What do you do besides housework?"
"I play with the villagers," she said, "I climb trees, fish in the pond, read books outside and lots of other things."
Rodmilla set down her embroidery and stood up. She circled around her stepdaughter and shook her head. What she saw was mussed brown hair, a wrinkled red dress and worn, leather shoes.
"I see I will have to turn you into a young lady," she stated, "That means no more climbing trees or helping servants. You will learn to play an instrument, sew and other more suitable activities. My daughters will be glad to assist you, won't you girls?"
"Yes, mother," they said at the same time.
"But, I don't want to sew or play music," Elizabeth said.
A glint appeared in Rodmilla's blue eyes, a shine that frightened the young girl. "Oh, you don't want to. I hate to inform you, Elizabeth, but you are no longer the mistress of this house. What you want doesn't matter anymore, you will do as I say and not utter one word of complaint." Her eyes narrowed in on her stepdaughter, "Do you understand?"
Elizabeth nodded, "Yes."
"Good." Rodmilla returned to her seat and continued with her sewing. The room was silent for several moments as Teyla and Joceline stared at their stepsister. Joceline had a smug smile on her face while her sister looked on with sympathy. Their gazes were lost to Elizabeth who stared at the floorboards.
Music began to play again and she knew it was the opportune time to leave. She slowly walked out of the room. Once she made it down the hallway she picked up her pace and raced over to the other side of the manor. The hum of the harpsichord faded from her ears and she felt like she could breathe again.
She needed to talk to her father. Surely he would never force her to obey her stepmother's edict and reform her into a docile young lady. He had said so himself that she could continue with her games. Perhaps if she told him about what Rodmilla had said he could convince his wife that his daughter was fine on her own.
She walked at a brisk pace to her father's study on the first floor. Candlelight was the only illumination in the room. Her eyes saw her father sitting at his desk with his head bent over his ledger.
"Daddy?" she asked in a small voice, "Are you busy?"
He didn't answer.
"Daddy?" she asked again and took a few more steps into the room, "Can I tell you something?"
Silence was all that responded to her.
Elizabeth walked up to his desk and tapped on his shoulder, "Daddy?"
Henry didn't move a muscle. He made no response at all to her gesture. She walked around to his side and saw that he was not bent over his desk at work; he was collapsed on top of it.
"Daddy?" she said with worry laced through her tone. His face looked strange but it was too dark to see. Elizabeth picked up a candle and brought it closer to get a better look
His eyes were closed and shallow breaths lightly rustled the papers of his account book. Red patches covered his face, reminding her of a rash she received once when she fell into a patch of poison oak. Elizabeth reached up and touched his face. Henry's skin was burning and clammy from sweat.
"Daddy?!" she cried and shook his shoulder, "Wake up, please, wake up!"
He didn't wake up.
The sun was bright, cruelly so as the ladies of the manor watched the men bury Sir Henry Weir's casket beside his first wife's grave. Elizabeth's cheeks were wet from her tears and her sleeve was damp. Rodmilla was dressed in black like her stepdaughter but her eyes were dry. She held her daughters' hands as her husband was laid to rest but she made no move to comfort her distraught stepdaughter.
Once the dirt filled the grave, Rodmilla led Teyla and Joceline back to the house. Elizabeth stayed behind and stared at all that remained of her parents. One of the diggers placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, "I'm sorry young mistress."
She didn't reply. The world was warm and lovely around her but inside her heart it was cold and frightening. How could the Fates be so cruel? She had lost her mother to the Red Fever, why did her father have to stolen from her as well?
Elizabeth sank to her knees in the dirt and let the tears fall again. They sprinkled the earth and watered her father's grave. The sobs shook her body and she lay down over her father.
"Please," she wept, "Come back! Don't leave me, daddy!"
She didn't know how long she was out there crying over her father's grave but at last all of her tears were shed. Once she was silent, Elizabeth felt a hand on her shoulder.
"Ellie," Andra whispered and gathered the child in her arms.
She buried her face into the cook's bosom and wished for her heart to repair itself. She didn't think she'd ever be happy again.
"It will be alright," Andra said as she stroked her hair.
"I'm going to miss him so much," she said and blinked back more tears.
"I know, baby, but the pain won't last." She wiped Elizabeth's cheeks with her knuckles and gave her a sad smile. "Your father loved you so much and he'll always be with you."
Elizabeth nodded and hugged her again. The words were only a small comfort but it was enough to stop the tears from falling again.
"Your stepmother wants you back at the manor," Andra said and kept an arm around her shoulders as they walked back to their home.
Rodmilla was waiting for her in her father's study. The room felt morose to her now when it used to be warm and inviting. She eyed the chair that she found her father in with disgust. Nothing would ever be the same now. Her life had lost the laughter it had once held.
"I see you are too overcome by your grief to care for your appearance," Rodmilla chastised as she stared at Elizabeth's dress. The black silk was covered with dirt that would take several washes to get out.
"Your father has left you alone in the world," her stepmother announced coldly, "you have no other family from either side of your parentage. You fall under my care now."
Her stepmother plucked at the emerald necklace at her throat and stared down at the small child. "I have chosen to be generous and not toss you out on the streets. However, I can't afford to care for you like my own daughters. If you are to live with us you must earn your keep."
It was a blatant lie. Henry had left a generous living for his wife but she wasn't about to waste money keeping his orphaned brat in luxury. She expected her to burst into tears and plead for mercy; instead the girl stared at the place her father once sat. Her face was blank of any feeling.
"Considering your habit of helping the servants, that shouldn't be a problem," Rodmilla continued, "Your things are to be sold and you will be moved to the attic. I expect you to work hard and if you displease me I will let you starve on the streets."
Elizabeth barely blinked. She made no protest at all to her stepmother's demands. Rodmilla tightened her jaw and glared at the child. "Do you understand what I am telling you?"
"Yes," her small voice replied, "I'm your servant now."
"Exactly, and you will obey every order I give you with out question or complaint." Rodmilla bent down so she was eye to eye with her stepdaughter. "You are nothing. You have no family, no money and no future. Be grateful for my generosity."
She turned away and stroked her jewels again. "Go and take off that ridiculous dress. Another one is waiting for you up in the attic."
Elizabeth walked out silently while Rodmilla dreamed about her own glorious future. She would host the best balls and soirees. She would be the envy of every woman in court and the desire of every man. Perhaps she would marry again. A wealthy count of duke who would elevate her to the status she belonged. If she played her cards right, she might get one of her daughters to catch the eye of the prince when they came of age. Then she would be what she should have been born into, royalty.
It was four flights of stairs up to the attic. By the time Elizabeth reached her new quarters she was out of breath and sweat trickled down her back. The door creaked open and she saw what her future was.
There was no bed, only a scratchy cot in the corner. The air was cold as there was no fireplace. She would have to get candles because the only light in the room came from a small window high up near the ceiling. A brown dress made of worn muslin was laid out on the mattress for her use.
Elizabeth sat down on the cot and held the dress in her hands. She was eight years old, orphaned, penniless and forced into servitude by her stepmother. She never imagined that her life would be torn into so many pieces at so young of an age. Tears had flown freely enough with the loss of her father, now she had another excuse to wet her sorrow. Instead she unbuttoned her silk dress and put on the tattered rags.
She could cry for her father, but she would never cry for herself.
TBC
A/N: I know, we all feel sorry for Elizabeth. Next chap we start it off with a bang and we meet Prince Charming, guess who he is, LOL.