Dance with Me

Summary: What if Cinderella and the prince knew each other long before the ball? And what if Cinderella was the fairy godmother herself? A Cinderella story, probably 3-5 chapters. (But probably now going to be longer, because I have an actual plot...)

Disclaimer: I don't own Cinderella. That's it.

A/N - On to chapter two, after this: THANK YOU NICE REVIEWERS! Kay, had to say that to my lovely reviewers. Now, read.

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Evander looked petrified after that statement. Eline knew, from one of their earlier talks, that he had no intention of being married off to some spoiled girl.

Flashback...

Two Years Earlier...

Eline was eyeing a yet another bronze brooch for Felicity. It was like she had an addiction to brooches. She had twelve. Eline had bought all of them for the lazy pig. Occasionally she wished for the finery her step-mother and sisters knew so well, but she was used to the plain dresses and the antique bracelet that had belonged to her mother. All her other jewelry had been sold, or, worse, claimed by Felicity and Ruthia. Francesca had snubbed all of the jewelry and clothing, saying, "Really, you are like beggars, picking through old things like that. Sell it all, Mother." Father had been away again, as usual. He was never home to see Eline treated as the maid she had become.

Eline sighed, picked up the brooch, and decided to buy it, seeing as Felicity would grab it, stuff it into her jewelry chest, and forget about it. She paid for it, writing the price down in the small "Expenses" book Ruthia had given her to make sure she did not use the money for "personal benefit."

The next thing on the list: Food. How general. Usually when such a general term was used, whoever had written that on the list wanted something specific. If that need was not met, whatever was prepared for their supper that night would be declared "vile." As usual, Eline would need to use magic.

She walked to the side of the market, barely brought her wand out of her pocket, pointed it at the word, and knew Felicity had written it, and that she wanted...Eline rolled her eyes. "Bread-things."

Oh well. There had been worse.

Eline went through the rest of her list relatively quickly, and was about to leave when suddenly, Evander popped out from behind a cart. She jumped, and put her hand to her throat in surprise. She smiled, though, and said, "When are you going to stop doing that?"

"Whenever you stop being so surprised by it," he quipped back. He suddenly looked back over his shoulder when hearing a high-pitched voice call out, "Oh Evander darling! Where have you gone off to?" The voice's owner was revealed- one of those blandly beautiful girls. Yellow blonde hair and a handkerchief which was being thrust around as though it could locate Evander itself.

He jumped back behind the cart, dragging Eline with him, grabbing her arm. Eline gasped quietly again. She out her hands on her hips and was about to ask him what in the heavens name was going on before he said, "My parents set me up with HER. Apparently, she's beautiful, she's charming, she's perfect and would be a dutiful wife and queen." This was all dripping with sarcasm.

Eline looked back at him from her gaze at the girl, who was stupidly wandering in a circle. "Why did you agree to go then?"

"I had no choice."

"Oh. Well, you can suggest to them anyone?"

Evander just shook his head. "They won't listen to me," he said, his green eyes filled with sadness. "I'm going to marry some spoiled little pig, and with my luck, she will be nosy and annoying too!"

Eline smiled at him, just a little hint of a smile. She said, "How do you know all princesses are like her? There could be one who is charming, not annoying, pretty, and... that is hard to find. Surely there is someone your parents can find that you can stand. I mean, her," she said, swinging her head, her gold braided hair swishing around, a few strands already falling out of the ribbon, "...She is pretty spoiled seeming, and I've never even met the girl. What is her name?"

Evander made a face, "Yeah, there's maybe one girl in the entire world that fits that description. Her name is...Petunia. She sounds like a sickly flower. Yippee."

Eline winced at the face. "Have you talked to any other girls besides...Petunia?"

"This is the second one I've 'courted.'"

"Give a few more girls a chance. Besides, you're better off than me, might I remind you again. I'm going to be an overworked spinster. How's that for fun?"

He looked at her. "How come you're so good at that?"

She looked up. "Good at what?"

"Knowing what to say and when to say it. How?" Eline looked down so he wouldn't see the tiny blush that had appeared on her otherwise pale face.

She smiled. "It's a gift." Along with magic had come intuition, according to her mother.

"Eline, hello?" Evander waved a hand in front of her face.

She shook her head. "Sorry. What did I miss?"

"Before you spaced out when I was about to tell you who I'm marrying."

"Well tell me already!" She shifted the basket in her hands.

"Francesca-"

"Francesca. Francesca, as in daughter of Lady Ruthia?"

He looked at her in surprise. "Yes, how did you know her?"

"I-She's-She's my step-sister."

"How? She's daughter to the Lady Ruthia."

"She married my father, and since he's away almost all year, she made me a maidservant. Rightfully, I should be the next lady, but Ruthia deemed me unacceptable. Francesca is the next lady."

"And here I was thinking I just had a servant girl for a friend. No, she's a lady." He bowed to her. Eline shook that off, and laughed. "A lady of the kitchen, perhaps."

She looked suddenly at the sun in the sky, and her eyes grew wide. "I need to hasten. Come here tomorrow, and I will try to find out more about this marriage. I'll probably be the one making the wedding gown after all! Farewell."

She looked back at him over her shoulder, and saw an amused expression upon his face, but could not figure out what it meant. Lately it seemed that she felt something that was not friendship when she was with him. It couldn't be love, though, they were only confidantes. There was one precious secrethad kept from him, of her magic, but she occasionally thought of telling him. Would he understand? What if he told someone? She doubted that, but still kept it still safe inside. Her mother had told her to follow her heart with her head close behind, and though he was trustworthy, she couldn't bring herself to tell him that secret. Neither could she tell him of the way her heart had begun to leap when she was around him for reasons other than him surprising her. She quickened her step, and made her way back to the manor.

As soon as she reached the door, Francesca ran to her, and said, "Begin sewing the dress for me." She spun in a small circle. "I will be your queen! Hurry, or I shall tell Mother of your slow-wit and you shall work with the pigs." She smirked.

Eline went to the sewing room, and now that she was out of sight, quickly got Francesca's measurements (using magic) and thought about the marriage, each thought about it worse than the one before.

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A/N- Sorry this is kind of shortish, but I promise the next chapter will be out quicker. REVIEW!!!! Please? -dreamer303