Title: The final straw

Series: Twisted fairy tales

Author's note: This is also featured on Tumblr and my AO3 account.

...

Cinderella decided that everything in life was actually made up of straw. You received straw every time something unpleasant happened and straw was taken away for everything that was pleasant. Most people were balanced with a small handful of straw and hardly noticed their presence. Others had their hands filled with straw and didn't notice when they could have dropped a straw, others fought to keep their straws, others tried to offload their straw to people around them - friends, family, lovers, children, complete strangers - while there were some who took as many straws as life handed them and then took more straw that others gave them until they broke. Some asked for others' straws to help lighten their loads, some pretended the straws weren't accumulating and everything was fine, and others tried to set their straws on fire...

Okay, the analogy wasn't making much sense anymore. The point was that Cinderella was not only holding a giant armful of straw, but was carrying the stuff, and probably made of straw herself by this point. That analogy worked, right? It made sense to her, but she was also battling a headache the size of her horse. She'd been picking fucking lentils out of the fireplace for the last hour, so could you blame her? All of this just so she could go to the Royal Ball in celebration of the Prince. It was a ball that every maiden who lived in the kingdom had been invited to. Which included her, for fuck's sakes! She was a maiden and she lived in the kingdom!

"Cinderella? We're leaving now; have you picked the beans from the ashes? Oh, you haven't, I see. Then you must stay here until you complete your chores, as you promised," her stepmother said, turning on her heel without waiting for Cinderella to respond or argue or even try to beg.

She was already on her knees, why the fuck not beg, too?

The only reason Cinderella didn't throw the bowl of ash-covered lentils at the door (right where her stepmother's head had been only three seconds ago) was because she'd have to clean the damn thing up.

She'd just wanted a single night, not even the full three nights of the Prince's birthday celebrations! Cinderella knew her place and didn't even try to ask for more than that. She'd scrubbed and cleaned the house from top to bottom, then prepared her stepsisters' dresses and shoes until she could see her own reflection in the jewelled shoes they wore, and had even taken a moment while the other three were eating lunch to wash her own face. It had been an optimistic endeavour and her stepfamily hadn't even noticed a change in her appearance. Of course, they would've had to look at her in the first damn place. She'd politely asked to attend the ball with them that night, had promised to finish all of her chores, and her heart had practically stopped when her stepmother agreed to take her so long as she finished all of her chores before they left for the evening. Silence had descended as even her daughters were stunned, but Cinderella had felt light as air, as though the straw had fallen from her arms and she'd found skin beneath her clothes instead of straw.

It was her fault for promising to do her chores, it was her own fault for believing her stepmother would actually let her go , Cinderella told herself. She should have known the old bitch would stop her from enjoying a single damn day of her life. She had never asked for a damn fucking thing since her father had died. Not food or blankets or even a pillow. She ate whatever scraps were left from her stepsisters and stepmother's meals, she slept by the cooling fireplace every night to keep warm, and used a fucking brick as a pillow! The only thing she'd asked to do was attend the ball. She wanted to wear a dress that wasn't grey from soot and ash, she wanted to eat a whole meal or even a full piece of bread with actual butter, and she wanted to meet someone who could make her forget about the rest of her life for one night. Was it too much to ask? Was her stepmother really that afraid she'd catch someone's attention and leave? Everyone in the town knew she was Cinderella and a slave to her stepmother and stepsisters. The most she'd probably get was a pity fuck, and even then it would be kept secret by her one-time lover, who wouldn't want to admit they'd fucked her.

"She probably just thought I'd embarrass her and ruin any chance of the Prince noticing Marguerite and Jacqueline. Like anyone could miss those stupid hats they're wearing," Cinderella muttered.

Viciously, she hoped the hats were tall enough to catch on a chandelier or, even better, caught on fire. That would be a fitting end to the bitches who'd started calling her Cinderella. Maybe she'd get lucky and they'd take their mother down with them, she thought with a snort of amusement.

One by one, Cinderella felt the straw returning to her arms and body until she was covered from head to toe again. Staring at the lentils still in the fireplace, she wondered if she could just scoop the whole mess of soot and beans into the sink and wash them off in the colander. A bit of grit and soot hadn't killed her yet, she determined, rising with all of the soot, beans and all, and dumped them into the colander and rinsed them with water in the sink. While they soaked, Cinderella cleaned the fireplace from top to bottom so her stepmother couldn't make a repeat performance when she asked to attend the second day of the ball tomorrow. She even placed the cast iron pot in the fireplace so she could fill it later and stay warm during the night.

After far too long, Cinderella was exhausted and even dirtier than before. Washing off in the sink, she looked at the lentils with a mix of hunger and disappointment. "Okay, fuck this. I'm making myself food and they won't even know," she said with firm determination. Cinderella then realised that the pantry had been bolted and locked with a key that sat around her stepmother's neck. "Well, there goes that plan... And I'm talking to myself again. Bad Cindy, stop."

"It's more entertaining for me if you talk aloud rather than in your head, dearie."

Cinderella let out a small scream, turning abruptly to see a woman standing in the kitchen doorway. The woman was dressed in an outfit that looked like she'd crawled out of a swamp only for scraggly roots and leaves to stick to the dress that was beneath it all. The woman had a stick in her hand and there were even several twigs in her hair. Cinderella was more shocked at the woman's presence than her clothes or state of her hair since the doorway squeaked and made a horrible noise that no amount of oil or care stopped.

It was the doorway that led outside to the forest and the small clearing where her mother's grave stood. Cinderella tried not to go there too often, and not only because the door alerted the whole house to the fact she was trying to leave. The last time she had gone, she'd fallen asleep against her mother's gravestone, and returned late for breakfast. Her stepmother had whipped her for not preparing her eggs in time, but Cinderella refused to admit she had snuck through the kitchen window to talk to her mother, since she knew her stepmother would use it against her. She'd heard the old bitch talking about letting the woodcutters start in their forest for more money, as though she hadn't spent their last dollar on her daughter's jewelled shoes for this stupid ball, and wondered how long it would take for her mother's grave to be destroyed and the forest to be desecrated.

"Seems like you're getting sidetracked in your head there, dearie. I'm your fairy godmother," the woman said with a smile and a flourish to her clothes as if they explained her presence.

Wait, what?

"Wait, what?" Cinderella echoed aloud, a frown etched on her face.

Her question was almost drowned out by the growl of her stomach, and Cinderella cursed silently at the reminder she hadn't eaten that day - she'd been too nervous in the morning, lunch had given to joy, and then she'd been cleaning her ass off for the rest of the day and hadn't stopped even for a crust of bread. Her stomach had the worst timing, honestly.

The woman - a fairy? - smiled broader still. "Let's eat and talk, shall we?"

Cinderella looked from the woman to the locked pantry. "I don't think I can open the pantry. I have lentils?" she offered.

She didn't know much about fairies, but Cinderella knew they were easily offended and food was important to them as it was to everyday mortals. She looked at the colander of soaked lentils, wincing at her paltry offering for a real-life fairy, but hoped it would be enough. Surely it was better than digging through the day's scraps, at the very least.

The fairy's smile slipped. "Well, that won't do at all. Let's see what I can do here," she said, clapping her hands together and pointing her stick at the pantry door.

Cinderella's eyes widened as the pantry door burst into splinters and twigs. Shielding herself from the worst of the spray, she hoped the fairy would have a way to put the door back to rights before her stepmother and stepsisters returned. If she didn't, it would just be another thing she would have to clean, and Cinderella would probably be whipped again.

The fairy seemed preoccupied by the pantry's contents, returning with an armful of food - bread, butter, cheese, jams, and a leg of ham. It was the leg of ham that her stepmother had purchased that morning with the promise of eating it as a celebratory meal for Marguerite or Jacqueline - whoever caught the Prince's attention, or at least the highest courtier - and Cinderella felt another piece of straw add to her.

"Are you able to put the door back? Please? And the lock?" Cinderella added quickly.

The fairy dropped the food onto the kitchen island, then looked at the mess of twigs around her. "I'm sorry, dearie. I can fix the door, but a lock is metal and outside the realm of my power. It only works on living things, you see. Now, why don't you work on these sandwiches while I fix the door? A thick slice of ham, a hunk of cheese, and a thick layer of butter and jam on both slices, dearie."

The door was better than none, but the lock would definitely result in a punishment. Cinderella swallowed hard and set about making the fairy's sandwich. She took a single slice of bread for herself, spread butter, and added a thin slice of cheese, hoping her stepmother hadn't weighed the cheese or counted the bread. It was a useless hope since her stepmother made it a habit to do both and ensure everyone in the house knew.

Maybe she'd come back from the ball drunk on Royal wine and mead? In the morning, Cinderella could try to convince her she'd eaten it in a drunken haze in the middle of the night.

Cinderella made the fairy's sandwich as she muttered over the toothpicks and splintery mess on the floor. She still hadn't fixed the door, and considering she'd destroyed it in less than a second, Cinderella wondered what the trouble was in repairing it.

"Uh, fairy? Your food is ready," she said after another long moment of muttering and no progress.

"Fairy godmother," she corrected, taking a large bite of the sandwich and chewing.

Cinderella ate her bread and cheese, trying to savour the full slice of bread, smear of creamy butter, and fresh cheese while her uninvited guest chewed with her mouth open across from her. Deciding she was being tested, Cinderella didn't dare say or do anything to offend the fairy godmother. She finished her food, waited patiently as the fairy godmother finished her own, and then waited for her to start talking as she'd promised.

The fairy godmother returned to the door, turned one way, turned the other, then huffed and shook her head. "I can't do it, dearie."

"P-pardon?" Cinderella asked incredulously.

"The pieces are too small to fit back together."

"Well... can you make a new door instead? I chopped plenty of wood today; the logs are larger than these pieces."

The fairy godmother shook her head. "It doesn't work like that, dearie."

"Oh." Cinderella paused, opened her mouth, closed it, then opened again. "How does it work?"

She sure as fuck couldn't convince her stepmother she'd been so drunk she'd destroyed the pantry door itself.

"Oh, I can't explain it to you, dearie. It's against the Golden Rules, you see."

"Golden Rules?" Cinderella queried.

The clock in the hallway chimed, which was odd because it hadn't worked in months. The fairy godmother smiled and clapped her hands together. "Listen to that! I think that's our cue to get you ready, don't you?"

"Ready for what?"

"Why, for the ball, of course!" the fairy godmother said with a smile and laugh, as though she couldn't believe the question.

"But I have no way of getting there, no clothes or shoes, and I'm not even clean."

"Those are no issue, dearie. Not for me," the fairy godmother said, waving her wand.

In a flash of light, Cinderella was clean from head to toe, her dress was transformed into a silvery masterpiece, and dainty glass shoes pinched her toes.

"I... Thank you for this, but... why?" Cinderella asked.

She also wanted to know how the fuck she could create glass shoes out of thin air but not a plain wooden door, but didn't want to insult the fairy godmother. Cinderella could sell the dress and shoes tomorrow, maybe it could pay for a new door.

"Why? I'm your fairy godmother, dearie!"

"Are you a fairy, then?"

"A fairy godmother is a magical being who fulfils a parent's dying wish to look after their child. Your mother, the poor dearie, wished for you and here I am. Now, let's go find a pumpkin for a carriage, shall we? And we'll need some lizards and mice, of course."

"What?"

"For horses and footmen - wait, what, not why?" the fairy godmother clarified. "You do know what lizards and mice are, don't you?"

"Of course I do! You're a fairy godmother? My fairy godmother? The fairy godmother fulfilling my mother's dying wish to look after me?" Cinderella asked.

"Well, yes, dearie. I just said that!" she said brightly.

This was one straw too many, it was the final straw, and the straw that broke the camel's back.

"Then where have you been this whole time? Where were you when they beat me or used me as a slave or when they stepped on me or starved me? Where were you when my father died? Where the fuck have you been this whole time?!" Cinderella snapped.

Her fairy godmother shrank back, swallowing forcefully. "Uh, well... There are rules, and... ahem, that's not language befitting a Princess, you know," she said, clearly trying to take control of the situation once more.

Cinderella blinked. " A Princess? So that's the reason you've finally turned up? I'm of marrying age and the Prince needs a wife! After all this time, that's all that mattered? The Prince needs a wife, so of course he'll get one, post haste! What about me and everything I've gone through?"

"Well, it was... That is, everything happens for a reason, and, uh... all of these experiences have made you kind. And patient, and that demeanour is suitable for a Princess."

" They made me kind? Is that all I have to offer? Oh, and an ability to cook and clean for hours, skills which I presume would go to waste in a castle as a wife to a prince! Which leaves the other skill a wife can provide: babies. How many kids does he need before he starts sleeping with the courtiers and ladies at court? You think I don't know of Prince Charming's reputation because I'm here and not in the castle? It's all the town can talk about some days!"

"It's not all that bad. There's some exaggeration - "

"Some isn't all, and that certainly isn't anyone I want to be married to!"

Her fairy godmother had clearly reached the end of her patience, her shadow growing as tall as trees and looming behind her. "You don't have a choice!"

"The fuck I don't!" Cinderella snapped, lunging for her fairy godmother to try to get the woman out of her home.

Her fairy godmother's eyes widened and she lifted her wand to defend herself against Cinderella's attack. The damn stupid glass slippers were difficult to run in, let alone lunge, so Cinderella slipped instead. She fell as the blast of power that came from her fairy godmother's wand hit the pots and pans hanging above the kitchen island instead. They were made from iron and, as her fairy godmother had warned, her magic didn't work on metals. The spell bounced back in an instant, slamming into her fairy godmother with such a force that she was thrown backwards into the fireplace.

It was over in seconds, and Cinderella stared at the woman bleeding from a head wound after connecting with the large cast iron pot. Hurrying over - her dress fading, shoes gone and splinters in their place, and soot returning to her body and limbs - Cinderella kneeled beside her fairy godmother, her eyes wide as she tried to determine what to do.

"Fairy godmother?" she asked, her voice trembling more than her hands, and reached out to do something, though she had no idea what.

Her fairy godmother blinked hazily, her breath coming in shallow gasps. There was a moment of clarity, her eyes clearing, and she saw the white and pink whip scars from the whip on Cinderella's outstretched arm. "I'm... I'm sorry, dearie," she murmured, a coppery taste of blood in her mouth.

"Fuck, I don't know what to do! Can you heal yourself? You're a living thing, right?" Cinderella asked, reaching for her wand so she could press the stick into the woman's limp hand.

"No!" Her fairy godmother gasped, even as her eyes clouded over and her body stilled.

Cinderella didn't hear the word for the warning it was, and grabbed her fairy godmother's wand. Magic coursed through her body, fire racing through her veins, destroying her from the inside out.

There were three Golden Rules for fairy godmothers: 1. never explain how your magic works, 2. never let the magic last past midnight, and 3. never let a human touch your wand.

...

Cinderella woke up in a blaze of light and heat. She wondered if she'd fallen asleep outside in the middle of the day - she had to get home and prepare her stepmother's eggs! - and opened her eyes in a fear-drenched instant. The fear dissipated when she saw that she was inside after all. A fire was roaring beside her, so she'd obviously fallen asleep next to the fireplace, had a nightmare, and everything was all right.

Screams ripped through the air and Cinderella had heard enough of her stepsisters' arguing to recognise their screams. She could hear the clock chiming that it was midnight; if they had just returned from the ball, they certainly weren't being fucing quiet about it. They probably wanted her to wake up so they could brag about their conquests.

Cinderella sat up, her eyes going wide when she saw she had been wrong: nothing was all right. The whole kitchen was on fire, not just the fireplace! It didn't seem to be hurting her, even though flames licked at her arms and had destroyed what remained of her clothes.

As she looked at the fireplace, Cinderella saw her fairy godmother's body burning. She clamped her hand over her mouth to muffle a cry of surprise and realised she was still holding the wand. Understanding filled her in the same instant: this fire was her doing . She had taken her fairy godmother's wand, magic had poured into her, and she could control fire. In fact, she could control everything. The door returned to the pantry in a thought, even as fire licked at the wooden door in the next instant.

The screams from her stepsisters continued as they were both caught upstairs and trapped by the fire. Their mother was trapped alongside them and there was no way out. Cinderella waited patiently, listened to their screams, then their hacking coughs, and laboured breaths. She ensured the fire stayed contained until her stepmother and stepsisters died from the smoke and flames, and then waited a moment longer to ensure they were well and truly dead before letting the flames take over the house again.

When they were finally dead, she walked out of the house and stood in the cold night air. Cinderella inhaled deeply, then used magic to clean her body and create a simple dress, coat, and shoes. Going to the stable, she saddled her horse, then freed the rest so they could escape the encroaching flames.

As she rode away from the burning house, she tucked the wand into her coat pocket and ensured it was secure. She wanted to visit her mother's grave to tell her everything that had happened with the fairy godmother she had wished into being for her, but Cinderella didn't want to be seen by the townspeople. The smoke and flames would soon be tall enough to be seen by their distant neighbours, and by the time they arrived, they would find four burnt corpses in a house of four people.

She was finally free , all of the straw falling from her body in a heap. She hadn't felt this light since her father was alive. She could go anywhere, do anything she liked, and with this wand, she could be anyone. One thing was for certain: she wouldn't be forced into doing something against her will again, and she certainly would be more than kind.

Fairy godmothers were bound by rules, and fucking useless to change lives or provide help when it truly mattered. Witches, on the other hand, didn't have such limitations, Cinderella thought with a cackling laugh.

...

The end.

Thanks for reading; I hope you liked it!