A Fantasified Fairytale- Cinderella

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"Oh no," a woman whispered at "Cinderella"'s house, playing her part to the fullest, even though no one else was there. "Midnight."

The woman paced around the house, until there was a knock on the door. She grabbed a kitchen knife in case it was... him... and opened the door quickly, knife at ready. Instead of him, she saw Nathalia and Haleigh, who had switched places.

"Your Majesty," Nathalia said, bowing. The woman acknowledged Nathalia's bow with a small nod.

"Wait, what?" Ethan asked. He gestured to Nathalia. "I thought that you were my wife!"

"She is," the woman explained. "She was a commoner, so when you married her, your power transferred over to me, since I'm your long lost sister."

"You know that's not really how it's supposed to work.... never mind.... Wait, then why do my orders get passed? And why, then, does everyone address Nathalia and I as the King and Queen? Why don't you live in the palace? And... who are you?" Ethan asked.

"Well, I intercept them, and approve the ones I approve of. As for why you are still addressed as royalty, I decided it would be much more fun to be a secret ruler, and it would let you have your fun too. Oh, and I do live in the palace. I'm Isadora," the woman explained.

"So that's why we don't have Taco Tuesdays.... and why our only trading partners are Holiday and Kwik Trip...." Ethan muttered. Then, out loud, he asked," You're my sister?"

Isadora only smiled coyly. "Now, we don't have much time. We must get the girl back. And save Christopher before he passes the point of no return." She walked out of the house. "Well, come on!"

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A young woman rode back home in the back of a carriage. She thought about the time she danced with the Prince. Honestly, she never really wanted to go to the ball. All she wanted was a nice night, alone with her thoughts of her previous career. But no, her mother made her go. Her husband let- no, made her dance with the Prince. They'd said that it would be a good change of pace. That she could move on.

But she would never move on. Ever. She remembered her first love. The pleading look when she'd taken him in. That one day when she learned. Learned how different their lives were. Learned about her. She would never get to be with him because of her. So instead she married Ralph.

She arrived at her home. As she walked through the door, all was silent. Something was wrong. The woman walked into one of the bedrooms and walked over to the bed. She sat on the edge of the bed and placed her hand on her son's sleeping form. Still breathing, still okay. Samara sighed and went into her kitchen for a snack... and stumbled upon the oddest sight she'd ever seen. 

Her previous love stood with his hands slammed down on her table (not to mention that he was in the Prince's clothes). In front of him was a girl tied to a chair, her head hung. She seemed... familiar, but she couldn't place a name to her. On one of her chairs had a very... sparkly crown on it. She coughed quietly. Both heads turned to look at her. Samara just looked suspiciously at her past lover. 

"What are you doing here? And... who is she? How did you get in? And... is that the prince's stuff? Does that mean it was really you who I danced with?" Samara asked, her mind buzzing with even more questions. 

"I needed a place to come and try once more to win the affections of my Christine, and your house was the best place I could think of. This is Christine. Also, you gave me a key to your house when I'd moved in, and I kept it. And yes. And yes. Does that answer all of your questions?," the man answered (and asked). 

Samara thought for a moment and nodded. 'Wait.... Christine? As in my old friend from....'

It seemed as though Christine was thinking the same thing. "Samara?"

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