I just saw the 2015 version of Cinderella the other day and I absolutely loved it! So, this was created because, I'm a cruel person and I like delaying characters' happy endings. I'm generally part of the Jelsa fandom, so this is going to be something quite a bit new, but I'm going to attempt to get back into it because I have been a bit (lot) MIA, so wish me luck, I guess.

(By the way, I don't know if you are reading this but I'd like to say thank you to that one guest who recently reviewed on one of my more popular stories whom I cannot respond to because, well, you're a guest, it really meant a lot to me to know that people are still reading my work and liking it. You rock!)

Just a warning to any young or depressed people reading this; for a while, it's going to be kind of dark, okay? I'm sorry, but how it goes in the beginning can really move a plot along and I swear things will get better, but for the time… yeah, not your average Disney Cinderella.

***NOTE*** You really need to have seen the live action Cinderella to understand any of this. If you haven't, then, I use most of what happens before this scene where she's crying in front of the fountain...thing, but instead of running away to meet her fairy godmother and dancing till midnight away, her story starts here, and goes a little differently...

Prologue Part 1:

Cinderella

Cinderella never meant to be, well, Cinderella, and yet, here she was, with her mother's ripped dress, crying before the fountain apologizing to her beloved parent for being frightened. And how frightened she was. Not only was she sad, incredibly, terribly sad, but she was so very afraid. She knew that Lady Tremaine was a cruel-hearted woman, but she never imagined she and her daughters would actually tear apart her gown- her mother's gown, to boot! She loved the gown, it was like a part of her old life, and now all her and the mice's hard work was ruined. She wouldn't be able to go to the ball, not like this. She had no name, no escort, no carriage, and she was sure that the Lady Tremaine would positively embarrass the living daylights out of her. There was nothing she could do.

"Mother," she cried softly, clasping her hands on the fountain until her knuckles turned white. "I am frightened. I do not want to live with the Lady Tremaine and her daughters. They treat me with cruelty and I wish to go somewhere else, to be someone else, but, alas, this cannot be. Magic has no place in this world. Maybe in the one before, but not in this one. I am so sorry, but I no longer believe."

Her eyes filled to the brim with tears and all she wanted was to crumble to the ground her sob until her heart could not bear it any longer. So she did. She sobbed and she cried and she hated her life. In her moment of weakness, Cinderella could not find it in herself to be kind nor courageous.

Her little mouse friends came scurrying into the courtyard to see what was the matter but she swatted them all away while wiping the streaming rivulets of water running down her face- to no avail. When Mr. Goose waddled slowly and flapped his wings at her, she sent him off in a shower of white feathers. When her dapple grey horse whinnied at Cinderella from his pasture, she simply yelled at him to quiet down. Nothing was working, she simply wanted to be alone, for alone she truly felt.

Cinderella's family hated her, that was all to be said. They didn't even allow her to eat with them at the table, that's how much of a disgrace she was. Cinderella, that's her name. She hardly remembered being called Ella, anymore. That's just simply not who she was. Cinderella was a pushover and a scullery maid who could not stand up for herself because she had promised to be kind. She made a promise on her mother's death bed. She supposed the least she could do was honor it.

"Please, mother, father," she whispered through her tears, "please give me a sign. It doesn't have to be a big one, I only desire one little thing; just something to know that I'm doing something right."

She held her breath and closed her tear streaked eyes, waiting and counting to seven in her head. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven.

Large, innocent brown eyes met the world once again, but there was no change, no shift in the balance, nothing to give her what she so desired. Maybe she hadn't prayed hard enough. Cinderella squeezed her eyes shut as tight as she could and counted to seven once more. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven…

Nothing. There was nothing.

She let out a breath. Of course. She should have known better. She had just been a silly little child when her mother told her all those stories, they couldn't possibly be real. Maybe young, orphaned maidens could meets handsome strangers in the woods, but they don't get any more than that. They don't get anything more than memories, they don't get to go to the Prince's ball, and they certainly don't get their happily ever after's. Was this her fate? To be miserable and alone for the rest of her days? She sure hoped it weren't so, but who was alive to care about her? The staff were all gone, there was no way Lady Tremaine was going to change anytime soon, and her animal friends couldn't really help her. She supposed it didn't matter.

Cinderella liked to believe that she could leave at any time, at any given moment, and start anew, maybe in a kingdom far away, maybe in the woods with all of her friends, maybe at the palace...maybe even meeting the dashing Mr. Kit along the way as well. The very thought brought a smile to poor Cinderella's face, but it was weak and meager. She simply didn't have the strength at the time to care. It was a nice imagination, but everyone must wake up as dreams are only a wish one's heart makes- they're not real life. She didn't really like her wake up call, but she figured that no one gets to choose their path along the way, why should she be any different?

A promise is a promise, and no matter how much she'd love to leave to some distant and mystical place, no matter the people in it this house was her home and no one could take that away from her. She would have courage and be kind. Or, at least, she could be kind. How could she be courageous? There was nothing to be courageous for. Her parents? Her animal friends? The bleak hope of a future that could never be? There was nothing. A story without a point is not a story anyone's time is worth wasting. Cinderella was that story. Nobody wanted the dusty old, cracked leather book on a bookshelf full of wonderful new stories, brand new with beautiful dressing and awing beholdings. Her story contained nothing but death and sadness, the few happy chapters ripped and torn to shreds along with her mother's dress.

There is no such thing as magic, she thought to herself. But she would stay here. She loved this house, she loved the memories it held, she loved the way it welcomed her in a way that she will never be able to feel again. Everything about it just screamed 'home' from the many, many artifacts from her father's travels to the butterfly wallpaper to the lovely garden and farmyard out back. She had used to love the people and animals that made it home, but the animals can't help her and the people she loved are forever beyond her grasp.

She sighed, shedding her last tear and watching it slowly and rather dramatically fall to the ground with a small splosh! Then, she gathered up her rags and stood.

Cinderella stumbled her way back into the house and up the stairs to the attic. Her old simple blue dress was laid there and she changed into it tenderly and lovingly. Her father had brought her that dress from France. He had said that blue was her lucky color; it brought out her eyes. She had argued that her eyes were brown and he changed his answer to her her hair, but Cinderella was no fool and knew that men had no taste in clothes whatsoever. However, he had done a rather splendid job of picking this garment in particular. It was Cinderella's favorite. Such a shame that she had to wear it for simple house chores but at least she had a token of her father with her always. She still had his branch tucked away beneath the floorboards of her quiet little sanctuary, where no one would ever be able to find it. Sometimes, when it wasn't too cold and drafty for her to sleep up there, she would cradle the branch in her arms humming her mother's old lullaby to it until she fell asleep, pretending that it was her father's soul and that if she sang to it, he might be able to hear it from heaven, for she was sure that's where he had gone.

The blue dress was completely ruined beyond any seamstress repair as there was too much dirt and tear, but it made for comfortable and memorable working clothes. So what, anyway? It's not like her stepmother and stepsisters actually cared what she wore, they would make fun of her if she was wearing the most popular style in all of the kingdom. Somehow, they'd find a way, of that she had no doubt. And don't even get her started on that cat!

She wondered if they knew that Lucifer was the devil's name… Then again, she also wondered when they would figure out that she did, in fact, know French and that the two girls weren't even speaking it right. She doubted that either scenario would turn out in any positive way.

Cinderella tied up her hair before slipping out of her worn shoes and stepping barefoot into the kitchen from the stairs. The good thing about being home alone was that she could steal all the food she wanted to and they wouldn't know- so long as she was subtle about the things she took. For instance, a chunk of bread here, a wedge of cheese there, a handful of grain, and a pouch full of oats, and they'd never notice. Her first stop was climbing back to the top of the attic. All of the riding, chores, and other vigorous errands her step family made her run did not fail to benefit her in the slightest bit of way. She could now climb the stairs without acquiring too much shortness of breath, but there were still a lot of stairs. Did she mention she hated climbing?

"Gus? Jacqueline? Little mice?" she called, carefully stepping over all of her parents' things Lady Tremaine had graciously set her with. She supposed she couldn't complain, at the very least, she hadn't burned them in the front yard or sold them as firewood or scrap metal. "Are you in here?"

A squeak sounded from below her feet and she yelped, jumping in the air and nearly dropping the tray of food. Luckily, she kept her footing and gently pulled herself together.

"There you are," Cinderella smiled at her little mice friends, who looked mostly relieved that she wasn't crying anymore. She then furrowed her brow. "I'm sorry for pushing you all away. I was upset and I didn't want anyone to worry about me so, well, I brought you all a little feast to make up for it."

Cinderella set the tray down and scooped the bread and cheese into her palm, smiling. She supposed she wasn't so alone. It really wasn't so bad, like she told Mr. Kit, there were surely others out there who had it worse than she did. And her step family wasn't all bad, she convinced herself. In fact, she might actually pity them. They didn't know how to manage a household; they only knew how to take advantage of others. Yes, she knew exactly what they were doing. She might be willing to please but she wasn't daft, not in the least.

Her mice friends gathered around in a circle as she knelt over, gently tearing the bread and cheese into bits and pieces for them. In her mind, they thanked her and happily ate. She smiled down at them, "You're very welcome."

Then, she sat up and dusted off her ragged dress, somberly gazing at her mother's soft pink gown. She sighed and navigated her way over. She'd really have to do something about all this stuff, it was much too cumbersome to maneuver around it every single time. She carefully folded the dress back together and walked it over to her collection of things beneath the floorboard. It took up most of the space but after she re-positioned her father's branch, it was enough. The young maiden delicately kissed her hand before tenderly placing it on the branch and dress. It was like her mother and father were with her, but only in that moment. She breathed it in and stashed it as her own secret jewel in the treasures of her memories.

The mice piped up once more and she swiftly placed the board back in its rightful position.

"Sorry my little friends," she said apologetically, "but I've more to apologize to. I'll have to join you all later, how does that sound?" She hoped they told her what was close enough to a 'yes', but that's all she really had to go on. "Alright then, I'll see you all when I return."

She slipped back down the stairs, scurrying down with the tray expertly balanced in her hands. Once she was outside, her first destination was to find that silly bird.

"Mr. Goose?" Cinderella called, craning her neck to scan the courtyard in search of the white-feathered fowl. She found him nestled by the wall with his head tucked in his wing. She must have startled him because when she came walking up, he shot into the air and squawked as loud as he could.

"Shh! Shh!" Cinderella cried. "I'm sorry," she laughed quietly as he flapped his wings frustratingly, "did I frighten you? I came to apologize. I brought you some grain."

She watched the vain bird immediately perk up as soon as she mentioned food. She stroked his small head lovingly as she pocketed the pouch of oats, then set the tray down so he could peck at the grain. Mr. Goose was a bit of a bird-brained creature, but that was the nice thing; he forgave people rather easily. He made a very good alarm, though, and had proven himself a decent guard. Cinderella left him with the tray knowing that all was right with him.

Next, onto Galahad. The beautiful grey stallion had been around Cinderella's estate for as long as she could remember. He was her companion who could take her away as fast as the winds could carry them to wherever she desired and she loved him so.

"Hello, handsome," she crooned, sweeping her neck in between the fence to catch his eye. Unfortunately, the male gender was generally very high strung and particular about the way they feel, despite what most people opted to think. Galahad had a tendency to hold a grudge. That is, until she pulled out the oats. His ears pricked forward and he nickered from deep within his throat, his long forelock hanging in his eyes as he took a ginger step towards Cinderella's outstretched palm.

"Come on, Galahad, I know you want it," she grinned. "And I'm sorry for yelling for you."

Galahad snorted and tossed his long mane dramatically, even going as far as to swish his tail. Cinderella playfully rolled her eyes, sensing that the stallion had already forgiven her and was simply giving her a hard time.

"Don't be haughty, I said I was sorry," she chortled. Galahad gave an irritated grunt before meandering over to the food, stretching his thick neck as far as he could reach to wiggle his muzzle and inhale the, albeit rare, but tasty treat. He then practically pushed himself up against the fence to nuzzle his loving caretaker's face. So much for the wash she had had earlier. Oh well, it wasn't like she was going to the ball anymore, anyway.

"Good boy," she stroked her horse's long, pale face, closing her eyes and resting her forehead against her companion's. She had already cried for the night, and she had to be courageous, for her mother and father, for her animal friends, for her home and what little she had left. Have courage and be kind, she had promised. It was up to her, now. She would have to be strong for them all. Cinderella deeply believed in herself that she could do it, she simply had to.

"Would you care too terribly if we were to go somewhere? We wouldn't have much time to do anything at all, really, I just thought that maybe…well, that maybe I could see the palace, or something."

The pretty horse gently nudged Cinderella backwards a little and she smiled. "That's my good boy," she climbed up onto the fence and patted his neck. Cinderella swung her leg over the large creature's girth and settled into a position of comfort. Her stepsisters wouldn't know nor understand, but riding a horse, even with a saddle, takes a lot more leg than they might imagine, and her body was always screaming with sores when she finished a stunt such as this, but she wouldn't give it up for the world. And, however much she liked not having to worry about the cricks in her neck or the pain in her back from a good day's ride paired with a slumber by the fireplace, there was simply nothing better than the wind flowing freely in her face with nothing in her hands but the natural mane of her dapple grey friend and feeling his pounding hooves with every stride through a bare flank.

She quickly unlatched the gate enclosing them in and spurred Galahad into an easy gait. The horse happily obliged as the last time he had been allowed to run freely was when Cinderella had taken him galloping into the woods and had met Mr. Kit. Cinderella couldn't help but feel just the taddest bit disappointed in missing her chance to ever see him again, but what could she do? She was just a little girl who dreamed of possibilities that could never be hers. But her dreams were all she had…and now they were stolen from her. Her eyes stung with a bitter, choking feeling in her throat, but she blamed it on the wind and pushed Galahad to go faster.

Finally, the palace from quite some distance came into view, but it made a wonderful spectacle. She vowed not to stay out too long as she didn't want to get caught skipping out on her chores, but it was a rather lovely sight. It was so big and bright, with fireworks exploding in the sky above. She couldn't help but wonder what it must be like to be inside it. Oh, what she wouldn't give to be there… But, it was not meant to be. Have courage, Cinderella, she told herself, and be kind. Maybe not now, maybe not soon, but someday, things will turn out alright. You'll see.

As Galahad dipped his majestic head to graze lightheartedly, the fair maiden atop his back sighed deeply and slowly leaned backwards, allowing her waving blonde locks to drape over her horse's rump, her dark, chocolate brown eyes fixed to the wondrous sight of the castle. When she finally shut them, she smiled and dreamed of dancing in that beautiful place so far away, perhaps with a dashing and charming stranger, perhaps with the mysterious but handsome Mr. Kit. Either way, she'd never tell.

Cinderella had never been so much as touched without loving intent before, let alone malice, but here she was, sprawled across the floor with her left cheek red and stinging, tears pooling in the bottom of her eyes. She was a smart girl and knew that the velocity and shock of the physical contact had been the thing to push her down, and it hadn't hurt all that much, really, but she couldn't help but stare, shell shocked, at the ground before her because, no matter how cruel Lady Tremaine treated her, she never imagined that she'd lay a finger on her in this sort of way.

"Don't you ever speak to me in that ungrateful way again, do you hear me, young lady?" the woman demanded with cold eyes and a dead heart. Her gloved finger waved in Ella's peripheral sight as she was supporting herself on her hands and knees on the floor.

It wasn't fair, Cinderella thought. Why must she yell at her for trying to say something other than 'yes, madame', 'no madame', or 'will that be all, madame?'? How could she treat her like this? In that moment, Cinderella wanted more than anything to leave. To run away and never look back, who cared what would become of the Tremaines? Let them rot in this house for all she cared.

Guilt quickly settled in the pit of her stomach for thinking so. She didn't have to think highly of them, but nobody deserved that line of thought. But she was still astonished and afraid and hurt and, and- and…

Broken.

That's what she felt; broken.

"Get up, you disgraceful child," Lady Tremaine spat, swishing in her black and green gown and gracefully exiting the kitchen. "And clean this mess up," she ordered over her shoulder. Cinderella sent a quick prayer of thanks to her mother and father that Anastasia and Drizella hadn't been in the room.

As solidly as she could, which was quite frail, to say the least, she rose from the floor, her lower lip trembling. She attempted to square her shoulders and face the world, but she couldn't bring herself to it. She was shaking too much. Her cinder-coated hands hung limply in the folds of her blue dress, her face smudged with the ash and dirt on the floor from which she had fallen onto. She couldn't say how long she stood there, trembling and desperately trying not to cry, all alone in the brightly lit kitchen with shattered plate and breakfast leftovers littering the floor.

'Why do you treat me this way?' That's all she had said. After all the long list of cruel and twisted things the Lady Tremaine had spoken to her, and that's all Cinderella had replied. Lady Tremaine had only grown silent for a moment or two. Cinderella, for one brief, foolish second, thought that maybe she would shrink back and apologize, but before she knew it, the dishes were falling from her hands and she was lying flat on the floor, Lady Tremaine's palm still frozen in the air.

The realization finally dawned on her. The fact that her stepmother had slapped her settled in her mind in a dark corner that eventually spread and consumed her thoughts, and suddenly, her whole entire being was screaming 'my stepmother hit me, my stepmother hit me!' It was too much and the tears spilled over, dribbling down her face and sliding into her quivering mouth, filling her taste buds with salty despondency.

Now, Cinderella rarely ever cried. She always put on a brave face and took it all in stride, nodding along and politely faking a smile. But this was so very different. She didn't- couldn't- understand how someone could bring a hand against a defenseless, lesser being. How- how could she?

She tripped over the debris of broken pieces but she managed to stumble her way to the door, bursting it open and sprinting into the courtyard, gasping for breath and squinting to see through the tears. She fell right before she reached the gate, sinking into her despair and bringing her hand to cover her open mouth as she downright bawled in the dirt. She wanted to leave. So, so badly. She could do it, she could refrain from looking back, start anew somewhere far away like she had dreamed about…

Really, though, Cinderella realized that no, she couldn't. She wasn't strong enough, and this was her home. Her friends were here and what would they do without her? She couldn't leave. She sobbed even harder because this simply couldn't be an option. She was trapped here as much as she belonged here. This place, her only home filled with loving memories that simultaneously served as a prison.

Leaving wasn't something she could do. Kindness, putting on a brave face, faking a smile, that's all she knew. But it wasn't enough. When there were people like Lady Tremaine in the world, where was it safe for her to believe in the impossible and reach for the stars as far as she could stretch?

Cinderella wasn't capable of living in a world so dark and evil, but she would have to. Her everything was here, she couldn't bear living anywhere else. She loved it here, no matter the cost of it. She wouldn't let anyone drive her off. She prayed for strength from anyone up there who would listen, her mother, her father, anyone, she didn't really care. She just wanted to be heard. She would be brave, she would try her hardest to be kind, and hope and wish and pray that there was some bit of magic left in this world of hers.

But when she picked herself and her faith back up, she wasn't too sure how strong either truly were, nor if they could ever again be restored to their previous potential.

So...what did you think? Before you go: "there is something wrong with you", "you are a messed up person", or "this is so cruel", please note that I did say it was going to be darker than your average Cinderella story. For a while, yeah, it's going to be really depressing but that's what happy endings are all about, right? Finding hope in the darkest hours?

The next chapter (prologue) is in the making right now, and I can't promise that it'll be up soon as I am going out of town this upcoming week, but I can promise that it'll be up before the end of the month. Speaking of which, updates for this story won't be often, but I'll try not to make them once a month. Maybe once a week. Does that sound okay?

Well, I'd love your feedback, critics, things you loved, things you hated, I'll probably even read flames so long as they're criticizing something relevant that I haven't already warned you all about. Alright, thanks again and see you all next time!

~Pearlness4700