AN: As I said this is my version of Cinderella. Just warning you my
grammar sucks. Disclaimer: Believe it or not I do not own the Cinderella
story
Chapter 1
"Rialyn!" You come here this instant."
I flinched at the sound of my nursemaid's harsh call. How could one person be so
loud? I paused considering my options. I could either stay in my hiding spot and continue
reading or face the wrath of my furious caretaker.
"She'll only get worse," I reminded myself. I quickly slid down the ladder that led
from my window perch. I discovered my hiding spot when I was about ten. I had been
wondering through the library when I found a ladder, which appeared to lead nowhere.
Of course being the adventurous person that I am I decided to climb it. At its top was a
small room. The interesting thing about this room was there were windows instead of
walls. I could see into the library with its tall bookcases and quiet philosophers or I could
look out into the bustling street filled with noisy vendors and rushing people. I had
always called it my window perch. The name just suited it.
I often went there to read or quietly think but most of all to get away from my
annoying and ever present nursemaid Marta. For as long as I could remember we were at
war. I would always whistle or tear my skirt, anything to aggravate her. She would then
retaliate by lecturing me on all my faults. I had quite a few according to her. My hair was
too straight. I had to many freckles. My eyes were too big and an awful shade of blue. I
thought my eyes were my best feature. They were a dark shade of blue with just a hint of
violet. Marta hated them. They came right after my mouse brown hair and reads to
much. When I was seven Marta made a list of all my problems. Reads too much was
number 14. Marta explained that if she kept a list I would be reminded of all I needed to
fix about myself. When I pointed out that I couldn't change my eye color she added
number 15, which was impertinent. The list has grown over the years. At the moment I
think there are 97. Number 97 is too skinny.
I could picture Marta now. Her gray eyes stern with disapproval, her mouth a slit
with thin tight lips. She had a hooked nose and she always wore her gray wiry hair in a
bun. She hated color with a vengeance and never wore anything but black. Unfortunately,
this old witch was in charge of my life since the day I was born. She chose my clothes,
my free time, my studies, everything. She made me learn 20 different ways to curtsy.
And I had to repeat them until I could do them in my sleep.
At the moment I am one step ahead in our little war. At least I think so. I'm not
quite sure. At least she doesn't know about my window perch and I plan to keep it that
way. As soon as I reached the last step I ran as fast I could away from the ladder. If Marta
found me close to it she would become suspicious. I ran until I was almost lost in the
maze of books. Almost. I could never be lost in this library. It was my true home.
"Rialyn!" I heard her shriek. Once more disturbing the silence of the scholars who
were presently buried in their books. " Goodness, it's a wonder the whole world can't
here her" I muttered under my breath and continued running in the direction of the last
shout. I was now running as fast as I could so I would find Marta before she informed the
entire library about her frustrations. I was running and not paying attention and SMACK.
"I'm so sorry." I said dropping to the floor to help the bewildered scholar gather
up his material which he had dropped all over the floor when I collided with him.
"No, the fault is all mine," said the voice of a young man. This surprised me.
Normally only old men found time to waste immersed in the volumes of text contained in
the library. Young men most often sought out adventures as knights before they settled
into a scholarly state of mind. I was interested to see the face of the most recent victim of
my clumsiness.
When we finally finished staking his books back up we both took our
eyes off the ground and faced each other. Once again I was surprised. I expected
someone deformed, which was the logical explanation my mind had developed while we
had been working. He had to be deformed or he would be out charging around on a
valiant steed looking completely ridiculous. He wasn't. He had dark hair that framed his
piercing emerald eyes. They seemed to see right through me.
"Sorry," I muttered again feeling bewildered and wishing my cheeks weren't
turning a bright shade of red. Suddenly I remembered Marta. I picked myself up begged
pardon once more and continued heading towards the entrance. I didn't even get his
name.
***
"You wicked disobedient child" Marta shrieked at me. As soon as I had found me
in the library she had promptly dragged me out, to angry to speak. She then marched me
across the street, up the stairs and into my room. Where she closed the door and
proceeded to yell at me.
"I have been looking for nearly an hour! Where have you been."
This continued for quite sometime. After the years I had learned to tone her out.
Eventually she would realize I wasn't listening and threaten to tell my father and storm
out. I never actually knew if she told him or not. I don't think he'd care if she did.
My Father was a wealthy Lord who had once upon a time been a knight. From
what I've heard he was a fairly decent well, at least until the injury. He fell off his horse
jousting or something and somehow managed to break his leg in several places. I don't
know the exact details he refuses to talk about it. What I know I learned from my mother
who wasn't exactly clear on the details either. His leg never fully healed
and from then on he always walked with a limp. This destroyed his career as a knight. he
felt he had dishonored himself and it was only made worse when some lady he loved
refused to have anything to do with him because he was such a disgrace. Personally I
think the lady was a snob and my father was much better off not getting involved with
her. So there my father was alone and dejected when my mother stepped into the picture.
My mother was a beautiful, high-spirited young lady whose family was almost
bankrupt and needed her to marry a wealthy man.
My parents had a loveless marriage. Neither of them were satisfied and they
spent hours bickering or ignoring each other. I didn't care. I loved them both and they
loved me in their own way. I think they almost loved each other. Well, at least my father
cried at my Mother's funeral and he hasn't remarried. He
could if he wanted to. He's 40 but could pass for 30 easily. I look like him. We both
have the same brown hair and stubborn nose and even he has a few freckles. The biggest
temptation for any women seeking for the position of my father's wife is his money. He
is an extremely prosperous merchant, which only adds to the wealth of our family. We
are the richest family in the province (next to the King of course) a fact which
brings my father great pride.
"You're no even listening," I heard Marta shriek. "I'm going straight to your
father and telling him everything!" She slammed the door and I could here her stomp
down the stairs. " You do that," I muttered under my breath. Then aloud I laughed. I had
almost forgotten that father was away on business. He wouldn't be back for another
week. " Good Luck Marta," I called out cheerily, " I'm going back to the
Library"
AN: Please review!!!!!!!
Chapter 1
"Rialyn!" You come here this instant."
I flinched at the sound of my nursemaid's harsh call. How could one person be so
loud? I paused considering my options. I could either stay in my hiding spot and continue
reading or face the wrath of my furious caretaker.
"She'll only get worse," I reminded myself. I quickly slid down the ladder that led
from my window perch. I discovered my hiding spot when I was about ten. I had been
wondering through the library when I found a ladder, which appeared to lead nowhere.
Of course being the adventurous person that I am I decided to climb it. At its top was a
small room. The interesting thing about this room was there were windows instead of
walls. I could see into the library with its tall bookcases and quiet philosophers or I could
look out into the bustling street filled with noisy vendors and rushing people. I had
always called it my window perch. The name just suited it.
I often went there to read or quietly think but most of all to get away from my
annoying and ever present nursemaid Marta. For as long as I could remember we were at
war. I would always whistle or tear my skirt, anything to aggravate her. She would then
retaliate by lecturing me on all my faults. I had quite a few according to her. My hair was
too straight. I had to many freckles. My eyes were too big and an awful shade of blue. I
thought my eyes were my best feature. They were a dark shade of blue with just a hint of
violet. Marta hated them. They came right after my mouse brown hair and reads to
much. When I was seven Marta made a list of all my problems. Reads too much was
number 14. Marta explained that if she kept a list I would be reminded of all I needed to
fix about myself. When I pointed out that I couldn't change my eye color she added
number 15, which was impertinent. The list has grown over the years. At the moment I
think there are 97. Number 97 is too skinny.
I could picture Marta now. Her gray eyes stern with disapproval, her mouth a slit
with thin tight lips. She had a hooked nose and she always wore her gray wiry hair in a
bun. She hated color with a vengeance and never wore anything but black. Unfortunately,
this old witch was in charge of my life since the day I was born. She chose my clothes,
my free time, my studies, everything. She made me learn 20 different ways to curtsy.
And I had to repeat them until I could do them in my sleep.
At the moment I am one step ahead in our little war. At least I think so. I'm not
quite sure. At least she doesn't know about my window perch and I plan to keep it that
way. As soon as I reached the last step I ran as fast I could away from the ladder. If Marta
found me close to it she would become suspicious. I ran until I was almost lost in the
maze of books. Almost. I could never be lost in this library. It was my true home.
"Rialyn!" I heard her shriek. Once more disturbing the silence of the scholars who
were presently buried in their books. " Goodness, it's a wonder the whole world can't
here her" I muttered under my breath and continued running in the direction of the last
shout. I was now running as fast as I could so I would find Marta before she informed the
entire library about her frustrations. I was running and not paying attention and SMACK.
"I'm so sorry." I said dropping to the floor to help the bewildered scholar gather
up his material which he had dropped all over the floor when I collided with him.
"No, the fault is all mine," said the voice of a young man. This surprised me.
Normally only old men found time to waste immersed in the volumes of text contained in
the library. Young men most often sought out adventures as knights before they settled
into a scholarly state of mind. I was interested to see the face of the most recent victim of
my clumsiness.
When we finally finished staking his books back up we both took our
eyes off the ground and faced each other. Once again I was surprised. I expected
someone deformed, which was the logical explanation my mind had developed while we
had been working. He had to be deformed or he would be out charging around on a
valiant steed looking completely ridiculous. He wasn't. He had dark hair that framed his
piercing emerald eyes. They seemed to see right through me.
"Sorry," I muttered again feeling bewildered and wishing my cheeks weren't
turning a bright shade of red. Suddenly I remembered Marta. I picked myself up begged
pardon once more and continued heading towards the entrance. I didn't even get his
name.
***
"You wicked disobedient child" Marta shrieked at me. As soon as I had found me
in the library she had promptly dragged me out, to angry to speak. She then marched me
across the street, up the stairs and into my room. Where she closed the door and
proceeded to yell at me.
"I have been looking for nearly an hour! Where have you been."
This continued for quite sometime. After the years I had learned to tone her out.
Eventually she would realize I wasn't listening and threaten to tell my father and storm
out. I never actually knew if she told him or not. I don't think he'd care if she did.
My Father was a wealthy Lord who had once upon a time been a knight. From
what I've heard he was a fairly decent well, at least until the injury. He fell off his horse
jousting or something and somehow managed to break his leg in several places. I don't
know the exact details he refuses to talk about it. What I know I learned from my mother
who wasn't exactly clear on the details either. His leg never fully healed
and from then on he always walked with a limp. This destroyed his career as a knight. he
felt he had dishonored himself and it was only made worse when some lady he loved
refused to have anything to do with him because he was such a disgrace. Personally I
think the lady was a snob and my father was much better off not getting involved with
her. So there my father was alone and dejected when my mother stepped into the picture.
My mother was a beautiful, high-spirited young lady whose family was almost
bankrupt and needed her to marry a wealthy man.
My parents had a loveless marriage. Neither of them were satisfied and they
spent hours bickering or ignoring each other. I didn't care. I loved them both and they
loved me in their own way. I think they almost loved each other. Well, at least my father
cried at my Mother's funeral and he hasn't remarried. He
could if he wanted to. He's 40 but could pass for 30 easily. I look like him. We both
have the same brown hair and stubborn nose and even he has a few freckles. The biggest
temptation for any women seeking for the position of my father's wife is his money. He
is an extremely prosperous merchant, which only adds to the wealth of our family. We
are the richest family in the province (next to the King of course) a fact which
brings my father great pride.
"You're no even listening," I heard Marta shriek. "I'm going straight to your
father and telling him everything!" She slammed the door and I could here her stomp
down the stairs. " You do that," I muttered under my breath. Then aloud I laughed. I had
almost forgotten that father was away on business. He wouldn't be back for another
week. " Good Luck Marta," I called out cheerily, " I'm going back to the
Library"
AN: Please review!!!!!!!