Chapter Text
Once upon a time, in a far away land, there was a tiny kingdom; peaceful, prosperous, and rich in romance and tradition.
Here, in a stately chateau, there lived a widowed gentleman and his little son, Cinderelle.
You probably already know how this story goes… Well, at least the Disney version; the gentleman was a lovely father, who felt like his child should have a mother figure in their life. He married a woman from a good family, Lady Tremaine, and then died. Leaving Cinderella with a horrible mother and two stepsisters; Anastasia and Drizella.
Well, here with our poor Cinderelle, things are a bit… different.
It was a beautiful morning as the birds flew to Cinderelle’s tower’s window, opening with a lovely song only a bird can chirp. The sun came from behind the castle, which was visible from Cinderelle’s tower. It painted the sky in colors of yellow, orange, and purple. A stunning morning like this shouldn’t go to waste, though Cinderelle begs to differ.
The birds sat on the edge of the bed, singing good morning to their kind human friend. The kind human friend let out a growl, and buried his head under the pillow, denying the arrival of another day.
The birds did not take kindly to such denial, they wanted their fair share in their alliance with the human. They wanted breakfast.
“Hmm fine!” The kind human friend gave up on his sleep, after the bird's persistent effort of waking him up. “I give up!”
His surrender was answered with chirps of victory and joy.
Cinderelle sat up in his bed, and let out a big yawn followed by a stretch. He opened his eyes and frowned at the birds.
“I had such a beautiful dream, and you had to wake me up on the best part!” He complained.
The birds chirped in response.
“Well, duh I’ll need to wake up at some point, but couldn’t you wait for at least five minutes?” Cinderelle asked, as if he could speak the language of the birds.
The birds chirped, as if asking a question about his dream. Well, that’s according to Cinderelle’s imagination.
“Oh that dream was mesmerizing!" Cinderelle answered in a dreamy way, and got up to his feet with a little jump, “I was dancing,” he did a little spin “and smiling,” he skipped towards the window, his feet light like a feather, “and-” he stopped.
“Hold on!” He turned around to his feathery friends, breaking the moment. “I’m not supposed to tell you this!” he exclaimed.
The birds sat on the bed, confused. Mice started peaking their heads from their holes, wondering what is up with their human friend.
“If I tell you my wish, it will not come true.” explained Cinderelle to the confused bird and mice. “And I already told you enough… oh no!” Cinderelle cried in horror, “what if now my wish won’t come true? And I will be stuck here forever as a servant for that wicked- no! I shouldn't think this way!” Cinderelle was more talking to himself at this point. “I have a wish, and one day it will come true! I know it! If I’ll believe hard enough and work hard and-”
A bell rang outside of Cinderelle’s window, loud and clear, snapping Cinderelle from his motivational speech.
“Ugh, that killjoy of a clock!” he cried in frustration to the birds and the mice. “Not a day goes by without that clock reminding me of my reality.”
Cinderelle put his hands on his hips with a grumpy face. “Even he bosses me around! Telling me to get up, and start another day of work.” he spitted out the word ‘work’ like it left a bad taste in his mouth.
“But there’s one thing not even that old clock, nor anybody, can order me to do,” Cinderelle continued, as if sharing a secret with his mice and bird friends. He approached his bed and picked up his pillow, hugging it and spinning it around like it was another person. A lover perhaps. “-And that is to stop dreaming…”
Cinderelle stopped in his place, and was lost in thoughts for a few seconds. Then, he snapped back to reality with a sad sigh, and put his pillow back down on his bed.
“But, now, we have a day in front of us… a long, tedious day to endure.”
All of the joy from the dream faded away, and Cinderelle dragged his feet to the bathroom.
‘Another day, another migraine’ he thought to himself, as he looked at his reflection with tired eyes.
The young man staring back at him was a bit short in height, with collarboned-lengthed hair, blond and wavy. The man’s exhausted eyes were a dreamy blue. The kind of blue that gives out warmth, even though of their cold color. The kind of blue with a sparkle, that reminds you of an endless, bright, starry night.
The kind of blue that looks so lonely and hopeful, it gives you an ache in your heart.
Maybe in another world Cinderelle’s body could have strived to its full grace with its daintyness and elegance, but in this world it was buried under the burdens Cinderelle had to carry, both mentally and physically. Only hints of what could’ve been were visible.
With heavy shoulders, Cinderelle finished getting ready, wearing his shabby light blue shirt with dark brown vest and lighter brown trousers. He tied his hair in a low pony tail with a blue ribbon, wore his simple black shoes, and went down for breakfast and endless chores.
Cinderelle entered the house quietly from the hidden door leading to his tower, and started doing his morning chores before the rest of the house will get up, that includes: opening the curtains, feeding his stepmother's cat, Lucifer (I’m not making this up, that’s actually the cat’s name), feeding the rest of the animals in the barn located on the family’s property, preparing breakfast and serving it, doing laundry, and then, finally, eating breakfast.
It’s a lot of tasks to do before the town itself starts waking up, but that was Cinderelle’s morning routine. It’s not easy, but Cinderelle grew up into this. When he was a child he learned everything from the staff who used to take care of the house, before Lady Tremaine fired them all. Each chore he fulfilled with elegance and gentleness, like a dance, while his mind is in a faraway place. A place full of joy and music.
Feeding the animals in the barn was Cinderelle’s favorite chore, because they were grateful for their food and Cinderelle’s service. He loved the animals, and found comfort amongst them. The comfort he always yearned to find among other human beings.
As Cinderelle prepared the breakfast for his stepfamily, he heard shouts of impatience calling his name and ringing the servant’s bell. His stepmother has woken up.
“I’m coming!” he called back, and went upstairs to serve his family their breakfast in bed. A tray on each hand and one on his head.
The exchange went like this: Cinderelle gives breakfast and receives a basket full of laundry to do, with an addition of lovely words and good morning wishes.
“About time, Cinder!"
“What took you so long? You are two minutes late!”
“TAKE THE LAUNDRY AND GET OUT!”
Aw, such wholesome good morning wishes.
Lady Tremaine was pacing back and forth in the dining room, waiting for her daughters to finish their lunch.
“There you are!” she said as Cinderelle entered the room, finished with his morning chores. “The girls and I are going to the town center today, to try that new saloon. I left a list of chores in the kitchen- DRIZELLA YOU HAD ENOUGH CAKE!” She shouted at Drizella, who only had one slice and was still hungry.
“Yes, mother,” Drizella said quietly, putting her fork down and pushing her plate away.
“A new saloon?” Cinderelle asked, hoping to move the spotlight away from his stepsister.
“Oh, yes! A new saloon,” Lady Tremaine repeated, stopping to pick up her cat, Lucifer, and pet it. “Maybe they can fix my hopeless excuse of daughters!” she said in a humph, and a wave of a hand.
Lucifer purred.
Lady Tremaine always failed to see the beauty in her daughters. In her eyes, her daughters were never perfect, no matter how hard they tried.
Tremine’s intentions were good, she just wanted a good husband for her daughters. But for that, in her opinion, they needed to look good to attract wealthy men, so she became too obsessive. Now she can’t even see her daughters. She only sees must-fix dolls.
To save money to take her daughters to saloons and spas, Tremaine fired the servants and cooks in the house, leaving Cinderelle to deal with all the house chores by himself ever since he was a child.
That obsession only increased after Cinderelle grew to be the dashing young man he is. Lady Tremaine never stopped comparing her daughters to Cinderelle’s feminine beauty. Shopping, make-overs, unnecessary diets, saloons, spas, she was desperate.
Cinderelle used to join them in their strolls around town, carrying their bags and what not. But after so many times men asked for his hand, only for the horrifying discovery the blondie they’re hitting on is a man, both Lady Tremaine and Cinderelle agreed it’ll be best for him to stay home.
But that just worsened Lady Tremaine’s obsession. The thought that not her daughters, but her STEPSON was the one getting asked out, drove her mad. And thus it brings us to today, where she rather leaves all the housework to her stepson, while trying to fix the unbroken- her daughter’s beauty.
Even though he did nothing wrong, Cinderelle felt guilty. He never had a chance to form a proper connection with his stepsisters, they were strangers to him and he was a servant for them. Nothing else and nothing more.
“Well, I wish you best of luck,” Cinderelle replied politely.
“We’ll be off, now” Lady Tremaine said, as her daughters finished their lunch and rose from their seats. “See you in the evening, and, Cinder?” she took a step toward Cinderelle and looked him deep in the eyes, “if the house isn’t spotless when we return…” she didn't feel the need to finish the sentence. Cinderelle knew fair well what would happen if he failed to finish his chores on time- and it wouldn't be pleasant.
“Yes ma’am!” Cinderelle saluted, as Lady Tremaine and her daughter left the house.
It was only after they left he felt able to breathe again.
“Come on, Cinderelle! Let’s finish this!” He hyped himself up, getting ready to do his tedious chores.
Cinderelle did his chores in his wavy, dreamy way. Light on his feet, and gentle like a brush of refreshing wind on a hot summer day. He cleaned the carpet, and the windows, spinned around in his imaginary ballroom as he mopped the floor. Humming to himself a melody, and singing to himself an old song.
His mind was elsewhere, in dreamland, a place that makes reality bearable and his heart hopeful.
What was Cinderelle dreaming about? Well it’s simple- all he wished for was a place he could relax, a home. A place he can take care of out of love, and not out of must. Where he has a comfy bed, and many books to read. A safe haven made for him, and just for him.
In some of his dreams, Cinderelle dreamt about being with someone. Someone who’ll love him through and through. Someone he can talk to for hours and tell them stories, sing them songs, drink tea, and feel at peace.
But mostly it was about a home. Cinderelle had his priorities.
“Hello, Rosamund!” Cinderelle said to a little mouse who peaked his head from his hole in the wall. “I haven’t seen you in so long.”
Cinderelle bent down, letting his mouse friend named Rosamund climb on his hand.
“How have you been, dearie?” Cinderelle asked the mouse, and put it on his shoulder so he could continue cleaning the floor in the meantime.
The mouse squeaked excitedly, telling the town’s hottest gossip, according to Cinderelle’s imagination.
Cinderelle gasped, putting a hand over his mouth, and stared at Rosamund with widened eyes. “You don’t say!”
Rosamund squeaked in reply.
“They did not!” Cinderelle said dramatically, but he couldn’t keep a straight face for much longer and let out a chuckle.
“All right, you little rascal.” Cinderelle picked up Rosamund and put him down on the floor, much to Rosamund's disappointment. “I need to continue my chores. Keep spying on the town for me, would you?”
And with that, Cinderelle turned around and continued to his next task, humming to himself the same song from before.
The sun was about to kiss the town goodnight, when Cinderelle found himself done with his chores. Not wanting to waste the last rays of sunlight, he went outside to the garden he loved so much.
With his bare feet in the grass and the wind in his hair, Cinderelle closed his eyes and let the freeing feeling of fresh air delude him.
A familiar owl watched over him.
Cinderelle felt the owl’s gaze, and turned around to see who’s watching him.
“Sabastian!” He called in delight. “How have you been, sir?”
Cinderelle lifted his elbow, letting Sebastian land on his arm with a hoot.
“Isn’t this evening wonderful?” asked Cinderelle with a satisfied sigh, and stared at the velvety sky. “Soon I will be reunited with my bed, away from this reality! Somewhere over the rainbow, where no clock or a madwoman can boss me around!”
The owl let out a hoot of agreement, he was fond of his adopted human son.
“Oh just you wait, Sabastain!” Cinderelle stretched out his other hand, the one that isn’t occupied by an owl, toward the sky as if to catch the early stars. “I will get out of here.”
Sparks of hopes and immortal dreams sparkled in Cinderelle’s eyes, as he wished Sebastian goodnight and headed back toward the house, before his stepfamily would return.
A song was on his lips, a different song this time, a sad lonely song of a tired soul.