Once upon a time there lived a little girl. She was happy with her mother and father, until one day her father suddenly died. Her mother, although she grieved dearly, wished for her daughter to have a father. Thus, she remarried, to a man with two daughters of his own. But the girl's new stepfamily was far from the loving one her mother had imagined. Her stepfather and stepsisters all disliked her, and only hid their disdain when the girl's mother was around. The girl tried her best to put on a brave face for her mother, but soon the mother also grew sick and died. The girl, left alone with her cruel stepfather and stepsisters, had no one to shield her from their cruelty. They treated her as a servant in their home, making her do all sorts of menial tasks, each more tiring than the next. One day, the girl fell asleep by the fireplace, exhausted, and one of her stepsisters found her. She was delighted to note that soot had smeared all over the girl's face, and from then on the girl was given the nickname Cinderella.
Despite the harsh treatment from her stepfamily, Cinderella grew into a fine young lady, with hair the color of the blazing sunset and eyes that shone like gems in her pretty face. Her stepsisters noticed that she was becoming beautiful, and grew ever more resentful of her, forcing her to do harsher and harsher tasks.
One day, a royal letter arrived at the house. Cinderella, of course, was the one to receive the messenger at the door, took the letter to her stepfamily as they ate breakfast in the dining room. Cinderella had already had her breakfast at sunrise next to the fireplace in the kitchen.
As she read it aloud to them, they discovered that it was an invitation to a ball that the prince was hosting. He was looking for a bride, and all of the eligible young noble ladies in the kingdom were commanded to attend.
Cinderella was very excited at the idea of attending a ball, and as her stepsisters were squealing over which dresses and shoes they would choose, Cinderella quietly asked, "Stepfather, may I go to the ball as well?"
Silence fell over the dining room, and her stepfamily turned to stare at her. Her eldest stepsister burst out laughing first, exclaiming, "Yeah, right, sure you can go to the ball! And what will you wear, those old rags? You'll get the prince filthy if you go anywhere near him!"
Her younger stepsister shook her blond curls, placing her hand on her chin. "Oh, wouldn't it be so lovely to watch her, though? It would be so horribly embarrassing!" The girls laughed at the idea.
Cinderella bristled at their ridicule, and cried out, "But the invitation says that all noble ladies are to attend! And I'm a noble lady of this house!"
"You!" her older stepsister cried out, throwing back her head of violet hair as the two girls roared with laughter.
"Now, now, ladies, Cinderella has a point. She is a lady of this household." Her stepfather interrupted the girls' laughter, and they stared at him incredulously.
"Father, you can't be serious!" the elder sister cried, aghast. "You can't possibly expect us to attend the ball with this...creature!"
"No, of course not," he replied calmly. "But neither can we deny Cinderella her right to go to the ball. So, my dear, if you can find yourself a proper dress, then you shall be allowed to attend the ball." He picked up his glass and took a long sip, regarding her with a wicked gleam in his eye.
Cinderella was broken-hearted. Trying to gather up her dignity, she turned and walked out of the room, fleeing into the kitchen before she dropped down by the fire, fighting back tears. Her stepfather knew very well that there was no way she could acquire a decent dress on her own, and especially not in the scant few days left before the ball. She tried to squelch down her disappointment, and went on with her chores for the day.
When the day of the ball arrived, Cinderella was kept busy fussing over her stepsisters for nearly the entire day; helping them into and out of dresses, putting up their hair and taking it out, fetching accessories, applying and reapplying makeup, hand feeding them meals so they wouldn't dirty themselves. Finally, when the sky darkened outside, her stepfather called for their carriage, and Cinderella packed her stepfamily away into it. She watched them go, and felt a sudden defeat. This time, she couldn't stop the tears from coming, and fell to the ground and cried.
As she sat there, she heard a serene voice from above her head. "May those who accept their fate find happiness. May those who defy it find glory."
Jerking her head up, she saw a tall woman with pale green hair standing over her. Sniffling, Cinderella asked, "Who are you?"
The woman replied, "I am your fairy godmother. I have come here to grant your wish. You wish to go to the ball, do you not, child?"
Cinderella nodded, and said mournfully, "But I have no way to get there, and nothing to wear. I just wanted one night away from this house, with other people. I am never allowed outside."
Nodding her head, the woman said, "Stand up, child. I shall send you to the ball."
Confused, the girl stood, and as she did, her dress sparkled and transformed. The skirt spread out around her into a graceful arc of white fabric layered over a full pink petticoat, the sleeves ruched around her forearms, and the material shifted to a blinding white with a sweetheart neckline. Cinderella reached up to feel her hair, now adorned with feathery ornaments. Lifting her skirt, she revealed delicate pink slippers to match the tone of her petticoats. She gaped at the woman standing in front of her, and asked in a whisper, "Are you really a fairy godmother?"
"Yes, I told you I was. Now let's see about getting you to the ball." She turned around and regarded the front garden of the estate. "Hmm, I believe that pumpkin will do just fine. And let's use some of those mice." As she spoke, a pumpkin rolled out from the garden, growing larger and larger as it came. As it grew, its color shifted to a delicate silver, and doors and windows appeared in its sides, until it was unmistakably a carriage. Cinderella had been so engrossed in watching the pumpkin's transformation that she didn't notice the appearance of footmen, horses, and a driver until they walked up to the newly-formed carriage and a door was opened for her.
She turned and gaped at her fairy godmother. "This is amazing! Oh, thank you so much!" She leapt forward and engulfed the woman in a tight hug.
The fairy godmother gently pried her off. "Now, now, dear, don't ruin your gown. I also need you to listen to me carefully. This magic is not forever. At midnight tonight, all of this will disappear, and go back to the way it once was. So you must make sure that you have returned by then."
"Oh, I will! Thank you so much, Fairy Godmother!" Cinderella nearly danced over to the coach in her excitement, and was handed in by the mouse-turned-footman. Once seated, she waved cheerfully at the fairy godmother until she was out of sight.
It didn't take long for the carriage to arrive at the palace. Cinderella stared up at the looming spires of the castle until the footman opened the carriage door for her. Nervously, she stepped out at walked up the steps, into the receiving hall. Thankfully, due to her late arrival, there was no line to speak of to get into the ballroom. She was able to slip in without much notice, and found a place along the wall to watch the excitement and simply drink in the freedom of the evening.
The prince, on the other hand, was becoming exceedingly bored with the entire affair. He had danced with lady after lady that had been forced upon him by doting mothers, and quite frankly, they were all starting to blend together. He was getting quite tired of the whole farce anyway. He knew somewhere in the back of his mind that none of these girls was the right one, and that he was waiting for one in particular to arrive.
The moment he saw the girl in white standing by the wall, he knew.
Ah. It was Ahiru.
Smiling, Fakir made his way over to her, stopping a short distance away to bow. As he came up, he wondered what her reaction to him would be, and was relieved to see her smile. He smiled back, a genuine, broad smile, one that he couldn't remember using recently. He held his hand out and said simply, "Would you like to dance?"
She looked up at him and replied, "Yes," putting her hand in his.
They swept across the dance floor, looking only at each other. Fakir ignored the gazes of everyone else, other than to steer their dance gradually out onto the unpopulated balcony. He simply reveled in the joy of being able to look at and hold the girl he loved.
They danced together for what seemed simultaneously like eternity and an instant, until the clock in the hallway began to chime. The girl suddenly exclaimed, "Oh, dear, what time is it?"
"It's midnight," Fakir replied.
"Oh, no! I have to be going back, I'm sorry!"
Fakir's hold on her hand tightened. "No, stay!" He couldn't bear to let her go right now, and fortunately his reluctance fit in perfectly with the story.
What happened next, though, was anything but fortunate. She yanked her hand out of his, protesting, "No, Fakir, I have to go!" As she stumbled back from him, her legs hit the low railing on the balcony, and as he watched in horror, she tumbled backwards over the edge.
He lunged forward to grab her, but he was too slow. He watched as she fell down into one of the bushes of the garden below. His eyes searched for her frantically in the dark. He cried out, "Ahiru! Ahiru, are you all right?" There was no answer, and fear clutched around his heart in an icy grip. He quickly turned around and clambered backwards over the railing, dropping his body down so he was hanging as far off the edge as he could before letting go and falling heavily to the cobblestones below. He scrambled up and shoved the branches of the bush apart, finally, finally locating Ahiru's form. He pulled her out of the bush, hauling her as gently as possible onto his lap as the last chime from the clock sounded. He hardly noticed as her dress faded back into rags. He was too busy trying to revive her, gently tapping on her face as he called out to her. "Ahiru! You idiot, wake up! Please, wake up, this isn't in the story, I don't know if I can fix this! Come on, you have to be all right, please just wake up!" In desperation, he smashed his mouth down onto hers, fiercely hoping that a kiss would fix things as they had before.
He finally released her, and for a breathless moment she was still. Then she cracked her eyes open, and smiled weakly up at him. "Geez, Fakir, you sure are noisy," she said.
"Ahiru, you idiot!" he cried, yanking her body to his in a tight embrace. He clutched her to him as he scolded her. "You have to be more careful than that!"
"I'm sorry, Fakir. I'll be more careful from now on. I know you're trying your best for me."
He growled into her, "That's just it. My best doesn't seem to be enough. And I can't allow you to be put at risk anymore."
Her voice was hesitant, questioning. "Fakir?"
He pulled her away from him, noticing as he did that she was bleeding from a myriad of scratches from her landing. The sight simply steeled his resolve. "I'm going to do what I should have done months ago."
Her face contorted into confusion and shock, and she tried to protest. "What? Fakir, what do you..."
As he forcefully pulled her out of the story and she began to fade, he smiled softly and murmured, more to himself than Ahiru, "Don't worry. I'm ready to do whatever it takes to get you back."