A/N: This chapter introduces Magdalena and Griselda, the step sisters of Cinderella. It is not edited from the "Slightly Different..." story, so if you read it in that story, I'll see you in the next chapter.

CHAPTER FOUR

Magdalena gazed outside the window of the chateau her mother and her older sister, Griselda, lived in. There were, of course, others living within the chateau, but they were of no consequence. The younger sister let her mind drift, wondering: "I wonder what the Prince is doing today?"

Her older sister, Griselda, entered the room, saying, "Who cares?" She went to get a dress out of the closet, carelessly tossing it on the bed. "The only important thing is who he is doing it with, and how much is he spending on her?"

Magdalena inwardly seethed; so jealous was she when she read the latest gossip scroll about the Prince's exploits. Why, from the way the journalist Sir Ebert of Gothelaine reported, one would think the Prince slept with every girl from their tiny little kingdom to the huge Americas she had learned about in school. It was then that her thoughts flew to—what was her name-oh, yes, her stepsister, Cinderella. Magdalena had always hated many women, but most of all, her stepsister. As the youngest daughter in her mother's family, she thought she would be blissfully happy, just like the scrolls said. But unfortunately, things got progressively worse when she, her older sister, and her mother moved into the chateau with Cinderella and her Father. Cinderella's father talked of nothing but his only daughter incessantly. In the year they were all together before her adoptive father's death, Magdalena tried to please him, but it seemed that he only had eyes for his natural daughter. Cinderella always went on walks with her father, the latter always swearing he would get around to teaching Cinderella the social graces and proper things a lady did; Magdalena had to take lessons by her mother's insistence in deportment, knitting and sewing, playing the harpsichord (which she detested), and, of all the embarrassing things she had to do or learn, she had to dance with Griselda when she learned how to waltz because her father (let alone any other man), was seldom or nary around.

Magdalena, or Dalena, as she was sometimes referred to, even resented it when her mother yelled at Cinderella. She knew Cinderella must have hated it, though her stepsister never complained, but at least her mother noticed her stepsister when she was yelling at Cinderella. Her mother hardly ever paid any attention to her, focusing instead on Griselda, grooming her for a Prince! Why her mother did that, Magdalena would never know…for one thing: Griselda was as fat as she was ugly. She had the plain, brunette colored hair the latest scrolls claimed was ordinary; her lips were too red, as was her usually red hued face. She had the temperament of a sour faced troll, and the voice of a woman with a head cold. When Cinderella was doing whatever and not around, Griselda took great delight in ordering Magdalena around. It was the latest order…to make breakfast…that had Magdalena fuming. She couldn't even boil water. How was she to cook for her mother and older sister? Fortunately, Cinderella returned later, she said from picking apples for a pie she would bake, and made breakfast.

The breakfast was delicious, Dalena had to inwardly admit, but she chose instead to eat quietly, snorting when Cinderella had said "good morning" to her. When she thought she wasn't being observed Magdalena would steal glances at her slightly younger step sister, taking in her brownish blonde hair, her perfectly formed pink lips, her evenly tanned skin, and her curvaceous figure. Dalena had none of those. Every night, when she looked in the mirror, she beheld a very light, flaxen haired girl with no hips or chest to speak of; a very tall, emaciated looking, gangly figure, and very pale skin, which seemed to flow into her hair (or was it her hair flowing into it?)

The only thing Dalena took exception to on her body, besides her long, yet comely face, were her light blue eyes. Her eyes were what the beauty scrolls pronounced as being the thing all men craved. Her step sister's eyes, thank heaven, were a light, sea green, and Dalena could not remember any of the beauty scrolls praising those. Magdalena tried pretend talking to the Prince in front of her mirror, then stopped as she heard her mousy voice: another grievous sin lain at her door that she wished she could hex on Cinderella. She did not have the cultured, sophisticated sounding, British accent her step sister had.

When sleep took hold of the younger sister, Dalena dreamed of the Prince, his arms encircling her, his perfectly formed lips pronouncing that she was the most beautiful woman on Earth, and that she would be his one-and-only forevermore. When the cock crowed each morning, however, Dalena woke up even more unhappy, even more cross with the world.

"What makes you think he is doing anything with anyone?" Dalena shot back to her older sister. She continued to morosely stare outside of the window.

"The scrolls we receive each day from the kingdom of Gothelaine proclaim it to be so," Griselda said haughtily. "Besides, the other psychiatric scrolls from the kingdom of Ruth say that all men have the innate desire to sew their royal oats, whatever that means!"

Dalena angrily turned from the window, shouting at Grissy, "The Prince is a virgin, I am sure of it!"

"A virgin?" Grissy retorted. "At his age?" She selected another dress from her closet, saying, "He is a worldly wise Prince, who has probably ravished many a maid in all of the jousts he has won, and I don't just mean by kissing one, either!"

Dalena crossed to Grissy, closing the space between them. "Take that back!" She ordered.

"Or, what?" Griselda challenged, her fat fingers closing into fists.

"Or I will thrash you, sister or not, for saying that about our Prince!" Dalena shouted.

It was unclear who threw the first punch. All Cinderella saw when she came into the main bedroom to dress her stepsisters was that the bedroom looked like a cyclone had hit it; Dalena's hair was unkempt and hanging in strings down her back, and Griselda's hair was standing out from all angles, her robe slightly torn. Both sisters were sporting cuts and bruises, and glaring at each other.

"WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?" A voice shrieked from the door's entrance. All three girls turned to face the Stepmother, hands on her hips, fully coiffed and dressed, and totally livid about the mess she saw.

Both sisters pointed in unison at each other, saying, "She started it!"

"Cinderella…" the Stepmother coldly said, "perhaps you can say what actually happened."

Cinderella looked at both of her step sisters, Griselda's look defiantly challenging her to say that Grissy started the fight; Magdalena's eyes pleading silently not to give anyone away.

"I…I am not sure, Stepmother," Cinderella said. "I wasn't here, and I didn't see any sign of who might have started the brawl."

"Of course you didn't see it," the Stepmother sneered. "You are always late for everything." She fixed her step daughter with an icy glare, saying, "If you had been here, you could have prevented such a thing from happening. As it is, since my angels are both messed up royally, you shall have to clean not only this mess, but help gather hot water and healing herbs from the garden to clean their wounds."

"MOTHER!" Griselda exclaimed. "Those herbs smell!" The Stepmother lifted a restraining hand, continuing, "And you shall have to bathe the parts of them that are not bruised, nor bleeding before dressing them!"

Cinderella executed a sloppy curtsey before departing. Later, as she bathed Magdalena and Griselda had gone downstairs looking none the worse for wear, Dalena said, "thank you for not telling."

"Telling what?" Cinderella asked. "'Tis true you were fighting, but I did come in after it had started, so I know not who threw the first punch."

Dalena snorted again as she left the tub. Cinderella handed her a towel, brushing her hair as she dried her body. The younger sister dressed as Cinderella helped adjust her hooks and dress closures. She arranged Dalena's hair in a very artful hair style. Magdalena waved her away, saying, "go. Do whatever it is that you do. I am going for a walk."

Cinderella bowed awkwardly, leaving the chamber. Dalena went out into the spring air, her long, thin legs taking her to, as Fate would have it, the location of Prince Edward.