A/N: This is my first fairytale, so please (as usual) tell me what you think. I guess I got sick of all the fairytales where the beautiful girl is in trouble – a servant, asleep, etc. – and the handsome prince comes to save her, or the fairy godmother, or whatever. So here's a story for all you people who want to read about girls who take control of their own life, with a bit of attitude stuck in for good measure. Kyria isn't the perfect little oppressed angel that Cinderella is. But that's the point.

Not So Helpless

Chapter 1: Wretchen, Geraldine, Maia, and the Witch (and, of course, me, Kyria) (and Thor, come to think of it)

"Kyria! Get over here!"

I cringed. Would they ever stop yelling? It was a wonder that Gretchen (or Wretchen, as I privately called her), Geraldine, and the Witch even had any voices. At least Maia didn't yell twenty-four-seven, even if she was a bit useless. It wasn't her fault. She'd been raised that way.

"KYRIA!"

"Okay, I'm coming," I called exasperatedly. What did they want this time? "Yes, my lady?" I curtsied slightly from Gretchen's bedroom doorway, my tone and gesture mocking. Gretchen didn't seem to pick up on it.

"This tea is cold. Bring me a cup of warm tea with honey and milk. Not too much, though. Last time you almost made me sick." Gretchen said imperiously.

"Whatever you say." I picked up the tray, turned on my heel and stalked off, not waiting to curtsy like the Witch had told me to whenever I left the presence of her or one of her daughters.

"Insolent – insolent little sparrow!" Gretchen obviously thought she was insulting me.

"And you are a parrot. A foul-mouthed, bratty, parrot." I muttered under my breath.

"I HEARD THAT!"

I jumped on the banister and slid down to the kitchen, managing to land without spilling a drop of tea. Practice does that to a girl. "Oh, sure, just yell at me," I whispered bitterly. "You've never done a decent day's work in your life – actually, never done a day's work at all, let alone a decent on. But you can just sit there in your bed and have me wait on you, my lady. I'll have the last laugh when you shrivel up to the size of a prune while I run off and get married and live happily ever after." I looked down at my hands. "All right, so scratch the married and happily ever after part. Nobody'd want to marry me. I'm a seventeen-year-old servant. But at least I can watch you become a prune."

While the kettle was on the fire to boil I climbed out the window and began scaling the wall of the house. The only peaceful place in the house was on the roof, so that was where I spent all my free time. I took out my sketchbook, which was hidden in the chimney, and began to draw the landscape. It really was beautiful. I couldn't capture colors with a pencil, but the fog made everything blurry.

I was so focused I didn't even notice the rider coming out of the mist. "Ahoy! Up there!"

I jumped. "Yes, milord?" Blushing furiously to have been caught up on the roof, I hid my sketchbook and pencil and began climbing down to the ground.

The man looked me over, raising his eyebrow. My blush grew. I must look a sight: rumpled, covered with dirt from my climb, and (remembering with horror) Geraldine had dumped her tea on me earlier. There'd been no time to wash another dress, so I'd simply kept wearing the stained one. At least my hair looked slightly presentable.

"I am here to deliver an invitation to the royal ball. All eligible women of the house are invited, be they a servant or noble lady."

"Oh," I stuttered, completely thrown off guard. Just my luck. A royal ball invitation on the one day I look like a fool. All right, so maybe not the only day. "Thank you…"

"I am Sergeant Thorin." The man extended his hand, smiling. "And you are…?"

"Kyria, Sergeant Thorin. I am a… well, sort of a family member and sort of a servant to the Windlan household."

His smile faded slightly, as though he were nervous. "Windlan? Isn't your lord the one who committed suicide last year?"

I curtsied, a real one this time. "Yes, milord. He was my father."

It was Thor's turn to look embarrassed. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It's not your fault." Damn the Witch, I think furiously. Damn her for killing my father and ruining a possible friendship with this nice man. Damn her for making my life a misery in my own household – the fief that should have been mine someday.

Something of my thoughts must have shown on my face, because Thor suddenly looked concerned. "Is something wrong? Can I help?"

My heart melted and I lost my anger. Thorin looked to be only a few years older than me, and he looked as though he actually cared. "There's something wrong, but unfortunately there's nothing you can do. Nobody can."

"Well, if you change your mind, I'll be up at the palace. Most people know me, so just ask for Thor. I'll be there." He smiled, a genuine one again, and handed me a card. "Here's your invitation. Eligible ladies only, remember." His smile broadened. Then he turned, mounted his beautiful horse (I couldn't help but notice how well cared for she was), and galloped back into the mist.

She wasn't my mother, but I was both relieved and annoyed about the Witch's not being allowed to attend. On the one hand, she wouldn't be able to yell at me if I did find a way to get to the ball. On the other, it meant that she would be staying home to lock me up. And then I remembered – with my father's death the Witch was free again. She could marry.

Poor Father. My mother died when I was born, but he still loved me dearly. When I was five his mother persuaded him to remarry, and he chose a widow with two girls. I guess he thought that they would understand one another, and that the girls would be company for me. It's not his fault, but he was completely wrong. The Witch's previous husband had committed suicide as well, and her daughters were complete nightmares.

Gretchen was two years older, Geraldine my age. Their mother had spoiled them both rotten. Maia wasn't as bad – she was actually my half sister, and father had given her treatment that made her feel loved without spoiling her. Maia took after Father, which I suppose was why the Witch didn't like her as much as she did Wretchen and Geraldine. The result was that, while Maia didn't know how to do much, at nine years of age she wasn't nearly as cruel as my stepsisters, her half-sisters. Poor Maia. She was mostly ignored now that Father was gone. I didn't have the time to spend with her that I would've liked.

Pulling myself out of my thoughts, I went to go deliver the invitation to the Witch, remembering just in time to pull the kettle off the fire and bring up Wretchen's tea.

A/N: Okay, so not much has happened yet. There'll be more action later, I promise. Now review and I'll try to post the next chapter in the next couple of days. Who should Kyria fall in love with? I don't know if I'll have her fall for the Prince, his younger brother, Thor (I hadn't even thought of that until Kyria and Thor's conversation started writing itself. For those of you who've read Tamora Pierce's Protector of the Small quartet, Thor reminds me of Dom), or a new character like some duke or something so I need feedback. Thanks!

Lunaterra