While Isabelle and Arthur had been contending with Diabla and her less-than-friendly progeny, Eliana and Amelia broke the news that they were part dwarf, and Penelope dealt with the Dalmatian crazed geezer known as her grandmother, Emmie Charming had been dealing with an entirely different kind of monster: the Lady Tremaine.
Emmie wasn't entirely sure how she had ended up in Tremaine's care in the first place. Technically, Tremaine was only Emmie's paternal step-grandmother. At that point, is there really any relation?
Apparently there was, because Emmie and her suitcase had been unceremoniously dumped off at an aging Victorian house. The outside of the structure seemed quite opulent from afar, but once one got close enough, the fading paint, dusty windows, and claw marks generally ruined the luxurious atmosphere.
Emmie tentatively rang the doorbell. She could hear the ominously approaching footsteps from inside the house, and all of the sudden, the door swung open with a loud crash.
"Hello," said an old woman with a nose like a crow's, dull grey hair, and acid-green eyes. Lady Tremaine.
"H-hello, uh, ma'am. My name is Emilia Charming, b-but you can call me E-emmie," Emmie stuttered nervously.
"Hello, Emilia. You will call me Lady Tremaine, ma'am, or madam. You will not speak unless spoken to. You will not cry, whine, scream, and/or bite. If you do, I will have no problem throwing your sorry self of this stinking pile of refuse that we call an island," Tremaine announced sharply. "Now follow me."
"Y-yes, madam," Emmie said, scrambling after Lady Tremaine.
Tremaine led the nervous girl up several flights of stairs, until they reached a door at the end of a very long, dark, hallway. Emmie could hear faint screams and yelling coming from within the room. What was in there? Emmie's mind conjured up images of a gruesome torture chamber, filled with the screeches of the unlucky souls who ended up on Tremaine's bad side. Emmie was pulled back to the present by Tremaine slowly opening the heavy door. Inside the room, contrary to Emmie's somewhat far fetched idea, were three redheaded little girls, fighting and playing noisily. "CHILDREN!" Tremaine thundered.
The children immediately ceased their horseplay and formed a line in front of Tremaine. "Yes, grandmother?" They asked politely.
"This is Emilia. She will be our guest for the next few days. Don't beat her up…too badly."
"Yes, grandmother."
"Emilia, these are my daughter Anastasia's triplets, Livia, Lydia, and Libby. You'll be sharing a room with them. Now play nice," Tremaine said, slamming the door shut with an almost theatrical flair.
As the triplets stared at Emmie with a gaze similar to that of a lion looking at a zebra at the watering hole, one clear thought rang through Emmie's mind.
I am so dead.