Don't Call Me Cinderella

Prologue

As a child, how simple-minded one can be, accepting tall tales and fantasies as the truth instead of reality; the cold harsh reality.

Fate, Ella decided as a child in those stages of fantasies and daydreaming, was something that someone chose for themselves. Noone could change another's path very easily, and if they did then they were playing god.

Maybe that was why, when her mother died she refused to cry; it was bound to happen someday, it was just sooner than expected.

The same reasoning could be used for when her father died. While her step-mother and her three step-sisters cried and sobbed, she simply accepted what her imagination allowed.

God wanted him to be with his first wife again, it was fate that allowed such a thing to happen.

She couldn't help but sigh. Her life, in some retrospects, wasn't the greatest. She slept in the attic, woke up before the sun every day only to run down multiple flights of stairs, without waking anyone else up, and cook breakfast. Once that was done she tended to the garden, both the flowers and the vegetables, and fed all of the animals that they (she) kept.

The last time she was at church was during her Father's funeral. The only time she was seen in public was when she went to the market. She couldn't remember the last time she ate a proper meal without it being a holiday and she hadn't had any sweets since she was little.

It wasn't the greatest, but she never complained. It could have been worse. Her step-family could have abandoned her, forcing her to live on the streets, but they kept her. It didn't matter that she was living a life of servitude, she still had a home and enough food to keep her going.

She was sweeping the main foyer when it happened -- someone knocked on the front door. She set the broom aside, wiping her hands on her apron and fixing her hair, trying to look as presentable as possible.

She opened the door, keeping her eyes on the men in front of her. "Do you have business with the lady of the house?" Her voice seemed child-like, innocence radiated off of her in waves.

"Yes, is the Mistress free? We have word from the Lord, well... more like a warning." His voice trailed off when he saw her confused face. She reminded him of his own daughter, because of that he couldn't come off as the rude messenger sent from the higher class.

She opened the door further, allowing the three men to enter. Ella then preceded to lead them into the parlor, taking their coats in her arms and hanging them up. "I'll return with the lady in a moment."

She bowed respectfully despite the predicament, she was still technically a lady of wealth, well-bred women in society. Nevertheless, she exited, walked to the staircase, and skipped up, taking every two or three stairs at once.

She wandered around the second story until she came to the music room. "Scarlet, darling, you're playing in the wrong key again." Her step-mother scolded the oldest daughter once more, who played an unholy note on the piano.

"Violet, you play the flute, one must sound like a delicate little angel when doing so." The second oldest simply scoffed, adjusting the head joint while complaining that it was out of tune.

"Amber," The youngest of the three was probably the least talented. She couldn't play a single instrument and was, well quite simply she was tone-deaf. 

"You did fine dear." Ella's step-mother sounded defeated, it wasn't her fault that the child wasn't any good at... anything really.

"That's not fair! How come you criticize us but not her!" Ella chose this time to knock before an argument broke out and scared the guest away.