Author's Notes: This is the first work that I'm actually publishing, and is a combination of a few ideas I've had for a while. Mainly, what would a child of one of the maiden's be like, and what might Cinder's childhood have looked like if she was given some form of kindness instead of purely the cruelty she endured. There will be some other ideas explored later as we meet more characters, but those are the main two for now.
Shake. "Olive." Shake. "Olive!" Shake. "Come on, Olive, wake up now!"
Groaning, the girl nuzzled deeper into her pillow as her mother's voice shook her from her rest.
"Just a few more minutes, mother." Olive pleaded, still trying to avoid the incessant shaking.
"Dear, you have to get up. We have to move." Something about the woman's tone made Olive abandon her rest in favor of sitting up in bed. It was fearful and hurried, cutting through the air, and it was very unlike what she was used to when she was woken up for school or breakfast.
"Get your things packed. Quickly. Have a bag packed in ten minutes, okay? Just the essentials, can you do that for me?" Olive was about to protest about the short time frame and the lack of toys and other belongings when she looked up into her mother's eyes.
"Mother? Mother, what's wrong?" The girl asked, feeling the hidden claws of dread sink into her, and a cool shiver run down her back, jolting her out of her half-asleep stupor.
"We have to go dear, but everything is going to be okay, now come on and get packed." Her mother's smile didn't reach her eyes, but she patted the girl and moved off to the kitchen regardless. Olive pulled the covers off and ran over to her dresser, stuffing stacks of neat clothes into her duffel bag before carefully placing a few photographs and other personal items on top and zipping the bag closed.
The air felt heavy, and each breath or movement cut it apart and left a ragged hole behind. As dread kept piling up in every corner of the room, Olive hoisted the bag over her shoulder, struggling slightly as she half-carried half-dragged it into the living room. Her mother was in the living room with a bag in one hand and her staff in the other.
"There you are dear, I was just about to go get you. Come on, let's take these outside to your dad, and then we're going to leave." The girl nodded, wordlessly going over to her mother and falling into step behind the woman as she moved towards the door.
The two moved into the entrance hall, moving quickly and hurriedly. "Here, Olive, put this on." Her mother handed Olive a jacket, which she began to pull over her shoulders, setting the bag down as she did so.
The door burst open, Olive's father stepping inside with his sword already drawn. "Vivian, they're here."
"What?" The woman exclaimed.
"I saw griffons; three of them, no doubt carrying whoever she has sent. We'll have to fight our way out." The man's tone was a strange mix of determination and fear, sending chills down Olive's spine while also inspiring some small glint of hope.
"Mother, father, who's here? What's happening?" Olive asked, arm still only halfway through her jacket.
"There are bad people coming; people who we have to fight." Her father said. "You stay inside and hide. We'll come find you once it's safe."
"But-" Olive was cut off by a thud from outside, followed by a screech and two more thuds.
"You have to hide! Now! Mother and I will be back soon!" The man hugged his daughter before opening the door and stepping outside. Vivian kissed her on the cheek and followed a pace behind, dropping her bag and readying her staff. In the brief moments before the door closed, Olive saw three tall forms of pure darkness lean down to allow three humans to step off their backs. Her mother's eyes glowed, her father drew his blade, and the door swung fully shut.
Olive stood stunned for a second; the figures outside sending a terror she had not yet known through her bones. The sounds of battlecries and clashing steel from outside flung her from her stupor, and she ran back towards her room.
"Father said to hide. Father said to hide. Father said to hide. They'll be fine. Mother and father are strong, they won't lose." Olive muttered as she ran to the closet and closed the door, sitting down between the dresser and the wall.
The screeching of steel on steel could still be heard from outside, so the girl grabbed a spare pillow and pulled it over her ears in an attempt to drown out the noise. She pulled her knees up to her forehead, drawing quick, hurried breaths. Her eyes flickered, opening and closing, alternating between a rapid dash and pinched blackness, eyes screwed shut.
Olive sat in the closet for too long. Howls, screeching, and the clamor of battle raged just outside the building, drowning out everything else, and Olive had nothing but the terror in her chest to keep her company. It wasn't long before tears started to fall as she tried desperately to drown it all out.
After what felt like hours, the sounds from outside finally quieted down, leaving behind nothing but the sound of wind rattling against the house. In her panicked state, Olive stayed in the closet, waiting for her mother and father to come get her. But no one came.
"I must be hiding too well for them to find me." The girl concluded after several more minutes of waiting in silence. She got up, slowly pulling herself out of the hiding spot, and heading out into her room.
It was starting to get lighter outside by this point, with the first rays of sunlight peaking in. Olive carefully looked around before heading towards the living room. It was empty as well, as was the kitchen and dining room.
"Mother? Father?" Olive started calling out in a whisper. No response. "Mother? Where are you?" A little louder. Before long she was almost shouting, willing her parents to appear from somewhere, so she could quell the fear in her chest, so they would be okay.
Then Olive heard the sound of several vehicles pulling up to the front of the house, followed by shouts from outside. Before she could react, the door was thrust open, and two men stepped inside, the light from a half-shuttered lantern spilling inside and illuminating the girl's face.
Blinded at first, Olive only recognized the men by their voices. The man on the left shouted over his shoulder. "The girl's alive! Scarlet, dear, come quick!"
"Mr. Wilkins? What's going on? Why are you here? Where are mother and father?" Olive's questions poured forth, as she tried to peer behind them to see what was going on. The two blocked the doorway, however, and Douglas Wilkins' frame was quickly replaced by that of his wife, Scarlet.
"Oh my. Are you okay, Olive? Are you hurt?" She said as she shut the door behind her.
"No, I'm not hurt. But where's mother? Where's father? What's everyone doing here?" Olive asked again, voice rising to a hurried, fevered pitch. With a sigh, the woman gently put her hands on Olive's shoulders and began leading the girl over to the sofa in the living room.
"Olive, your parents…your parents are...they're in a better place now. A place where they don't have to fight, or be scared, or get hurt. Okay? So stay here and I'll go make you some cocoa." Scarlet looked Olive in the eyes then, and smiled. She couldn't tell why, but that smile bothered her. It felt like the one her mother had given earlier; a little too fearful and sad, with something else hidden behind it.
"I don't believe you. My parents would never leave me here." Olive shot back. Her chest felt tight, like it was trying to collapse her form inward into the tightest ball it could. She clutched at it, twisting her pajamas into knots.
"They didn't leave you, honey. It wasn't their choice, they just...wanted to protect you and help you, is all." Scarlet didn't give her another chance to reply, instead moving to the kitchen and out of Olive's viewpoint.
Olive knew what that meant. No matter how careful Scarlet was, she knew that that meant her parents were dead. She clutched at her chest, curling over and trying to steady her breathing, but each breath came more rapid than the last, until she was panting uneasily with tears spilling forth anew.
Scarlet returned with a cup of hot cocoa for each of them and sat on the sofa next to her, rubbing circles into her back to steady her breathing. They both took a few sips of cocoa before saying anything.
"If they're...gone, can I see them? Can I follow? What am I supposed to do?" Olive asked, each question coming forth faster, as she leaned forward with a hint of desperation in her voice.
"Eventually, you'll get to see them. But you can't right now. You have to be older, Olive, like they were." Scarlet replied, setting down her cocoa and reaching over to pull Olive into her side, grabbing one of the girl's hands in her own.
"But...but what do I do then? Where do I go?" Olive asked, tears beginning to form in the corners of her eyes and a crack slipping further into her voice.
"You...We'll figure that out, okay dear? Right now I want you to go back to bed; you've had a long night and need your rest." Scarlet's voice was firm and steady, but Olive saw Scarlet wipe the corners of her eyes before she turned to face Olive again, with that same smile on her face.
Despite this, Olive got up and headed for her bed in the other room, too exhausted to try and argue with Scarlet. She laid down, and Scarlet tucked the girl in as she drifted off to sleep, head still swirling with pain and loss and the sounds of that night.
An orphanage. That's where Scarlet dropped Olive off the next day. I mean, I guess it makes sense. They do have Violet and Saphron to look after, and another on the way. They can't take care of me on top of all that. Olive thought to herself, even if she had been hoping that they might, at least a little bit, even if it wasn't reasonable.
"I'm sorry Olive." Scarlet said as they walked up. "I just…I'm sure you'll find lots of friends. And maybe we can visit sometimes. Your a good kid; you'll do just fine."
They walked up the steps of the orphanage. It was a tall building, made mostly of bricks with a slate roof, and Olive could see a few kids poking their heads out of some of the second-story windows, glancing down at them. The door was made of red oak. It loomed above Olive as she approached, its small glass windows glaring down disapprovingly. A face appeared, and then a tall woman wearing a black button-up opened the door and beckoned them inside.
"Hello, I'm Ms. Banyard. I help run the place. And you must be Olive and...Scarlet?" The woman said, checking a clipboard before finishing.
"Yes. Olive here is a great kid; I assume you got the report?" Scarlet replied.
Ms. Banyard leaned in to whisper in Scarlet's ear, but not quite quietly enough for the words to fully escape Olive's ears; "Grimm, right? It is a tragedy."
As the two woman leaned back, Scarlet gave a nod, and Ms. Banyard hastily continued. "So. We'll get you a bed and some clothes, and then someone can help show you around the place. Let's see…" She looked around for a moment. "Ah! Marcy, come here if you would please."
A girl with red hair who looked to be around 11 trotted over. "What is it, Ms?" She asked.
"Olive is a new guest here; could you show her around please?" Ms. Banyard said, and the girl nodded with a quick affirmation before walking off, motioning for Olive to follow.
The entrance hallway was especially nice. It had a small mahogany desk with a bell on it, a few comfy (if a little warn down) armchairs with a plant and magazines against one wall, and big windows that let lots of natural light flood in; it was a reception hall, but it felt cozy and warm.
The hallway beyond it was not cozy. It had stark, white walls with no decoration and no windows, except for a little billboard on one side filled with notes and announcements. The ceiling was low, and everything felt unnaturally clean. It reminded Olive of the hospital.
As they walked past some doors, the redheaded girl, Marcy, started talking. "These are the classrooms. Dreadfully boring, for the most part. Oh, and that stairwell leads down to the basement. That's mostly just for storage."
They continued through a double door into a room with tables and an empty counter with a kitchen behind it. "Here's the cafeteria; food's not great, but you'll get used to it soon enough. Oh, and the lunch lady, Ms. Perristone, is great. You really ought to get to know her; sometimes she gives out free samples." Marcy continued, gesturing lazily towards the counter.
"What free samples?" Olive asked, glancing towards a couple kids lying on the benches over in one corner.
"Just...some good food. Now, come on, to the dorms. Oh, and there's bathrooms down that way." Marcy swept on towards a stairwell to the left side of the room.
The two climbed up, avoiding two young boys who were running up and down the stairs on the way.
"Okay, boy's room is on the left, ladies on the right. The rest of the space is technically off-limits, but it's the best spot to hang out where no one will bug you. Now, come on." Marcy pulled Olive along towards a door at the end. Inside was what looked like an attic storage room, except it was filled mostly with trunks and gardening supplies and collection of other tools and knickknacks that seemed to be doing little more than gathering dust.
Marcy led Olive to a couple chairs placed by a window that had been hidden by some boxes. A few kids were playing cards back a bit farther, but the room was otherwise empty.
"So, since we still have some time, what happened for you to end up here, kid?" Marcy asked.
"W-what do you mean?" Olive responded, picking at a thread that had come loose from her shirt and doing everything in her power not to look at the girl.
"Well, most kids that end up here are a bit younger than you; what happened to your parents?" Marcy continued, looking out the window and spinning idly as she did so.
"They- I don't want to talk about it." Olive replied. She didn't even want to think about it; she wanted to fade away into the boards in the floor and never have to think about anything again, never have to confront what was happening.
Marcy sighed and looked at Olive. She might have understood, but Olive couldn't quite tell from the glance she gave. "Fine. That's no fun though, most interesting part of new arrivals like you is your stories." She stared at Olive for a few more seconds, then, without turning her head, said "Hey Elly, can I join your game? Newbie doesn't feel like talking."
"Yeah, yeah. We're almost finished with this round. Come on over." Replied one of the girls playing cards without looking up.
Marcy started walking over, then said "Oh, you should go back down soon, whoever you came in with needs to see you off or whatever. And… for what it's worth, welcome to your new home." Olive started down the stairs.
Days passed, then weeks, then months, but the orphanage remained the same. A collection of old hardwood floors that should have been comforting, but were kept so spotless that they felt more threatening than anything.
One day a family would come pick somebody up, and the next their bed would be made up and any footprint or writing or sign that they had ever set foot in the old building was swept away, as if they had never been there in the first place. Then a few days later a new kid would show up and take over the old spot.
Still, Olive got used to it. Fitting in to the cycle was necessary, lest it swept her away. Most days, they had classes in the mornings and free time in the afternoon, excepting chores and other duties.
Olive had never been especially studious; she didn't care much for English or science or many of the other subjects. But some did manage to capture her attention; some felt almost like stories. Stories of the first discovery of Dust, of how mankind used it to propel themselves out of the dark ages, and of how it was used today. Stories of great warriors who killed countless Grimm, although many of those were, admittedly, more imagination than history class.
They were sometimes painful, though; sharp reminders of what her parents were and what they could have been. Maybe what she could have been. In a sense the cycle helped with that part, though, by wiping away her thoughts with the constant repetition.
Olive also quickly found that most kids stayed in the corners where no one would find them, and not doing so made for extra chores. Of course, this often meant that Olive was doing more than her share, since the older kids holed up in them before anyone else could.
After a while, the routine settled in. Wake up, eat breakfast, take classes, do chores, imagine, sleep. It wasn't quite enjoyable, but it helped Olive keep her mind off other things. It was peaceful, in a sense, and time helped dull the pain. The whole orphanage felt designed to sweep her forward. No time for the past, just keep on preparing for the future.
The clear sound of the nearby town bell rang out through the morning mists. Olive lay silently for a moment more, before quietly wiping her eyes and sitting up in bed. The other occupants of the room began to groggily shift about, clearing the sleep from their eyes and beginning to prepare for the day.
Olive dropped off her bed and walked to the bathroom, applying toothpaste as she went. Some of the older girls – Nancy and Latia – were already there, so Olive tried to hurry, but it didn't make a difference, as Nancy, the one with the missing tooth – no, teeth now – and mean grin, walked over.
"Hey, Olive. Wanna play ball later?" Nancy almost drawled out.
"N-not today, sorry. Maybe tomorrow." Olive replied, knowing all too well what "ball" would likely entail.
"Woah! Why not play just a few games? We're all friends here." The second girl said as she started walking over and pulling herself away from the sink.
No option was good, as Olive had found out soon into her stay. Some kids could be unnaturally cruel. But Olive was saved by the door opening to reveal Ms. Banyard, who called through the room "Everyone up and out. I had your clothes cleaned, and I want you looking your best. We've got families coming today."
A family was coming. The energy level in the room rose, girls talking feverishly and stumbling over each other in their haste.
"Did you not hear me girls? I said your best. Now please, be ready in a half hour and assemble downstairs." Ms. Banyard left the room, and the girls slowly went back to their morning routines, but with an extra fervor to their movements
Half an hour later, everyone was downstairs, teeth brushed, hair combed, and clothes straightened as best they could manage. The air was tense; anticipation hung like a thick cloud over every child's head.
The door swung open, and Ms. Banyard walked in with a well-dressed woman. She had shoulder-length blonde hair that was combed back and held in place by a pin. She wore business clothes of some kind, standing so straight that she looked an extra two inches taller than she was. Her face was stern; lips pulled into a thin line, with piercing green eyes that regarded the group passively, and perhaps disapprovingly.
"Everyone, this is Ms. Prithkin. She'll be looking around our facility and maybe picking up one of you. Say hello now." Said Ms. Banyard.
A chorus of hellos rang out, and then the children were waved off to breakfast, keeping extra straight and quiet until the pair of women left the group and stepped into Ms Banyard's office. Then the room burst out into a cacophony of sound, with a million voices overlapping each other.
The day proceeded in much the same way. A bubble of excitement filled the orphanage, and everyone tried to be a little bit better than they normally were, although Ms. Prithkin stayed much longer than most, until nearly mid-afternoon, presumably watching to choose which she'd like to take home.
Around this time, Olive was scrubbing down the dining hall floor. This was one of the more hated jobs; most kids just swept and then left, so Olive was left to do the hard part on her own. Just as she finished a particularly nasty section, she sat up to see Ms. Prithkin watching her.
"What's your name again, girl?" The lady asked, moving in from the door frame.
"I-It's Olive, ma'am." She replied, nervously standing to wipe away any invisible particles of dust from her knees.
"I'm Cordelia. Your very good at that; cleaning, I mean. Oh, and I did hear such good things about you; How'd you feel about coming along to Ms. Banyard's office now?" Ms. Prithkin continued, words crisp, eyes sweeping down Olive's form, and a slight tsk escaping her mouth.
"I'd appreciate that very much, ma'am. I'll be along right away." Olive straightened fully, placing the cleaning supplies down on a table, and the two left for the front of the building, treading through the stark white hallways.
Ms. Prithkin knocked on Ms. Banyard's office door, which was quickly opened, and the two were ushered inside.
"Ms. Banyard, I think I'll take home this one; Olive." The two sat down.
"Ah! Wonderful! She really is a delightful child; and talented too. So then, if you've decided, I'll get out the necessary paperwork. Oh, and Olive, dear, please go upstairs and pack your things, then meet us down here." Ms. Banyard replied, lighting up noticeably.
"Yes ma'am." Olive replied, before hastily exiting and running upstairs to prepare her things.
The next hour was a blur; preparing everything and saying goodbye (mostly to glum faces at the news that they'd be staying behind), loading everything up, and finally getting in a car to drive to her new home.
Once they were started, Olive finally started to calm down. I'm gone; actually, finally, gone. It still felt a little surreal, after months of falling deeper into the routine. But Olive began to believe it, as she saw shop fronts and pedestrians whisk by outside the car window. Walls that had slowly closed in, constricting her ability to think and to move, seemed to open up a little.
From up front, Ms. Prithkin – Cordelia – begin talking, keeping her eyes on the road: "So, Olive. I run a hotel, and a rather fancy one, so I need you to know something. You are to clean. I have two daughters to help out, but they'll need to learn the more, ah, intricate parts of the business, so you're going to earn your keep. Do I make myself clear?"
"Y-yes, of course." Olive replied.
"Good. Now we'll be there soon, and you'll need to change into some more...appropriate attire. I do run an upscale business, and can't have you looking like I just plucked you off the streets." Soon, they pulled into a driveway, which led to the back entrance to a large, well-lit building, with arches holding up every window and hedge rows along one side.
Olive pulled her suitcase out, and the two marched inside. They were clearly in the back of the hotel, which seemed to be attached to the living quarters of the Prithkin family. Cordelia led Olive through one hallway, past a living room. The hallway seemed to end in a large, open kitchen, but the two turned into a smaller hallway and followed it to a large bathroom.
"Bathe yourself, I need you clean if your going to clean my establishment. And don't get back into those old rags, I'll have Arabella leave clothes out for you to change into. Once your done, come to the kitchen, sharp. I assume you saw it on the way in?" She said, turning on the bath and pulling out a clean towel as she did.
"Yes, I did. Um, when's dinner?" Olive replied.
"After work. Now bathe." Cordelia flung back, before exiting the room and closing the door.
Sometime during her bath, the door opened, followed by a girl's voice taunting "Hurry up, floor girl, mom wants you in the kitchen already." Some clothes were dropped by the door, and the girl left, cackling out behind her, as if it was the funniest joke she'd ever heard.
Olive was used to taunts by this point. Some of the meaner girls at the orphanage had loved to fling them around, mashing them into anyone's head that they could just to feel a little better about themselves. But it felt worse here. The atmosphere felt passive and disinterested, but Arabella's words felt pointed at lowering Olive, rather than raising herself; and they were supposed to be sisters now.
Despite this, Olive got out, dried herself off, dressed, and headed out to the kitchen. When she arrived, she found three figures waiting for her. Cordelia and two younger women. One stood slightly taller than Olive, with her chin up and hands on hips. Probably Arabella. The other stood back, about Olive's height, looking down at the floor.
As soon as Olive entered, Cordelia began. "Alright, good, your out of the bath. Now, I need you to clean. Scrub the floors, do dishes, bring and remove food for customer's, and so on. Arabella will start showing you around today." Her voice was tart.
"A-alright. But, miss, before I start, can I please have some dinner? It's getting rather late, so I thought, maybe…" Olive trailed off, as Arabella smirked and Cordelia reached behind her, tossing a piece of bread at Olive, which the girl barely managed to catch.
"There's your dinner. Now if you want better food, prove your worth it. Come along now Lily, we have to get your things ready for this week." Cordelia left, pulling the other girl along with her.
Looking down at the clearly stale bread, Olive found the walls closing in again. These people aren't kind. The orphanage had been monotonous, but kind to her. Sure, some of the people weren't, but that was always fleeting, as Olive got to return to an atmosphere of warmth. This new family was clearly hostile; they needed Olive to work, but beyond that, they clearly didn't want her around.
With that chilling thought, Olive began eating the bread, and prepared for a night of cleaning, a night of taunts, and a slew of fresh pains to follow into her new life.
As this is my first published story, any reviews or notes would be greatly appreciated.
Chapter 2 should be up next weekend or the weekend after, and after that I'll try and keep to a chapter every two weeks.