A/N: Hey y'all! It's another story! Woohoo! I can't stop making these, can I?(nope!)

This one will actually be quite a few chapters. This is essentially the prologue.

This story started from taking the plot of Cinderella and flipping it so the guy has the evil step-family instead of the girl. I began writing it in February.

Please enjoy!

Once upon some time in some place ago,

Mike lived happily in a large house on a hill with his mother, father and older brother. They weren't rich, but they had enough to be content. His father worked as a messenger to the king, often leaving for weeks to send messages back and forth between the small village nearby and the castle.

Mike's brother, Mal, was the troublemaker of the two. He was two years older than Mike, yet they were almost identical. Both handsome youths with skinny, muscular bodies, tan skin and dark eyes. Mal suffered from chronic insomnia, so his eyes were always underlined with bags. Nevertheless, he had unfaltering energy.

One day, Mal left with their father on one of his trips to see the king, and never returned.

When a different messenger brought the news to the house, Mike's mother was drowned in a well of sorrow, convinced her son was brutally murdered by robbers on the road. Mike wasn't convinced that his brother was dead, merely missing, as he wept beside his mother and father.

His father would rarely speak after he returned from that dreadful trip. Even when pried with questions by Mike and his mother, he would never say what happened to Mal, if he even knew.

Nearly a year later, once again he left on the same trip, and disappeared. Mike, only eleven years old, was now the man of the house, whether he liked it or not.

Fast forward about five years. They had barely survived on Mike working part-time as an actor at a local theater. He'd played parts from an explorer to a gymnast to everything in between. His mother worked a little as a launder, but she made even less than Mike did.

Mike always kept a positive outlook on life in front of his mother, but come night, he'd kneel on the floor in front of his lost brother's bed and slowly cry himself to sleep. He slowly began to give up his little hope that Mal would ever come back.

Those hopes fell lower when one day...

"Michael, I think it's time we had some more people in this lonesome house. We can't keep living in the past. I just met this wonderful man in the village. He runs a small business there. He asked me to marry him! As long as you're okay with it, of course," Mike's mother announced in the living room as Mike was sketching an outline for the costume he was supposed to design himself for an upcoming production, dressed simply in a bright blue shirt and dark pants. He was going to play an old man living with his five annoying grandchildren.

"As long as you're happy, I'm happy." Mike tried to smile sincerely, and hide his inhibitions well enough his mother wouldn't notice them. He hugged his mother and let a sad tear escape from his eye.

"I'm glad. He's coming here tomorrow. He really wants to meet you. Has sons of his own, you know. They're around your age. I think you'll like them."

The man she brought home, and not much later married, was indeed a successful yet self-centered businessman named Noah. He had unmeasurable intelligence, a work ethic that seemed superhuman, and a hard look of disapproval nearly set permanently on his face. He had warmly tanned skin, shoulder-length black hair, and cold dark eyes stained with grief. He mumbled most of his speech, except when speaking to Mike's mother, but he was still serious. He was a widower, who'd brought his two unpleasant sons with him, Scott and Vito.

Scott and Vito were brothers, yet they looked nothing alike, and they fought each other like cat and mouse. The only thing they agreed upon: it sure was fun to torture Mike.

Vito was a muscular lad who spoke with an accent used by the tough thugs on the streets, and had tan skin and long dark hair like his father's that he slicked back. Scott, on the other hand, bore no resemblance to his father, with short orange hair, pale freckled skin, and devious eyes that were made for scheming.

Mike had been convinced that Scott was adopted, but the answer was beaten into him by Vito: Scott's mother had been a servant of Noah's, a guard who'd raped him in the darkness of a closet after they had a short one-night fling together that went a little too far. She unfortunately got pregnant, and died shortly after giving birth to Scott. Noah raised him alongside Vito, his real son with his wife, who didn't want Scott but who loved Noah enough to tolerate him.

Back to living conditions… After they were wed, Mike's mother had welcomed Noah and sons to their home with open arms. The boys had decided to take up residence in the seemingly vacant upstairs bedrooms. There were three bedrooms total: Mike's, what was Mal's, and the parent's bedroom. Noah took the office space downstairs and slammed the door.

Scott had called use of Mal's room, and Vito had called use of Mike's, neither realizing it. As they scaled the spiral staircase and reached for the door knobs, Mike yelled, "Wait!"

Both brothers turned their heads. Scott spoke first, his hand on the knob ready to intrude. "What, Mike? This your dress-up room? Do you use it to practice your 'characters?' What a loser!" He high-fived Vito.

"No. First of all, you can't go in there." Mike pointed to Mal's bedroom door. " That's reserved for someone else. If I catch you in there…" He loudly exhaled, then left it at that and walked to his room. "This one is my room. If you want to use it, you could just ask. I'm a reasonable person."

"Fine. May I use your room, please?" asked Scott insincerely, earning a snicker from Vito.

"Sure, you can use it. I could sleep in…"

"The attic! You have an attic in this dump of a house, right? Take your stuff and get the hell out!" Scott shoved Mike into the bedroom.

Mike was at his wit's end. He didn't think he could stand living with those two… jerks for much longer. He started to wonder what his mother saw in Noah, why she wasn't willing to wait for his father to come back. Not that he ever would…

He was stuck moving out of his room, the room he'd lived in for his entire life. The room he and Mal had shared briefly while Mal's room was being done. The room he'd rehearsed his plays in, where he'd dreamed of performing for the nobility, of meeting a girl who'd take his breath away….

He collected his things and left the room, earning a door slammed behind him as soon as he did so. He started to walk towards the staircase leading up to the attic, but as he passed the door that led to Mal's room, he couldn't help but feel like he was leaving him behind.

Ok! That's done. See you next chapter! Please leave a review if you want to. .