AN: My first attempt on an own story and a different take on this beautiful fairy tale. English is not my native language, so please excuse orthographical or grammatical mistakes. I would appreciate it if you would point them out. Please review and of course enjoy the first chapter!

Chapter 1: Her story

When Georgiana was still a child of five years, she loved to listen to her mother telling her bedtime stories while she was sitting next to her daughter, stroking her auburn hair. They were tales about princes in shining armor, damsels in distress and horrid witches. In her dreams she saw herself as one of these beautiful princesses living together with her prince in a gigantic castle. She never wanted much for herself, but what she truly wished for was a happily ever after, just like in the stories.

But as the years drew by she lost more and more hope. Her mother, her dear Maman died the Winter Georgiana became eight.

She had never met her father, but it was generally said that he had never cared for anything besides a bottle or two of his beloved scotch and his mistress. Once he had been a wealthy man, one of the richest merchants in all of France. That was until he lost his ships and men to the sea. Gone was the precious cargo. Gone were the dreams of wealth and status.

He lost his income and spend the rest of his money on alcohol and women. When there was no more money left to spend, he threw himself of a small cliff and into the dark waters near the port of Marseille. He had left his pregnant widow and a son of fifteen behind. The son, Julien, died two months later in a duel and another four months later Georgiana was born. Having lost both, her husband and her son, the young woman found herself with a small child and neither money nor connections to help her.

Eight years she bore it, then a fever took her away from little Georgiana. The poor girl suddenly found herself alone in the world without anyone to care for her. Without her beloved mother. Hell, without even a roof over her head! How was she supposed to survive on her own in a city where she knew nobody?

Of course she had relatives from her mother's side, but they lived in England and she didn't spoke a word of the foreign tongue. And how was she to find these relatives anyway? She doubted they even knew of her. No, she could not go to England.

Let's face it. She was a little child and alone. She had no choice but to stay right were she was and hope for some change of fortune.

What became of her mother's corpse she never found out, but she hoped that someone had taken mercy on her and at least buried her properly.

The only thing she knew was that two drunken looking men came to take the white body while poor Georgiana tried to hold on the cold hand of her now dead mother, wich she had held even in her sleep for the past two days. Then she had still hoped that nothing was actually wrong and that her mother would awake and smile at her with that brilliant comforting smile of hers and Georgiana would be happy again.

But it was not to be. And when the men came and took the corpse, Georgiana knew that she would never see her mother again. She would never hear her calling her "ma petite fleur" with that melodic voice of hers. She would never feel her mother's embrace again. Georgiana had never cried that much in her entire life.

She didn't know what to do. How should she find something to eat or a place to sleep?

Her stomach growled so much, she knew she had to find something to fill it. Other homeless people pitied her enough to share with her their food from time to time.

But they also had to feed themselves and their own children and so Georgiana had to look after herself. She had seen a woman with a babe in her arms sitting on the ground and begging to the people passing by and had thought it to be rather easy. Her mother had never begged, but then she had found work in a shop. She had been once in that place and she could still remember the intoxicating aroma that hung in the air. It wasn't a big store, but everywhere she looked there were little flacons, all of them filled with a yellowish liquid. When she asked her mother what this liquid was, she replied with "Oh, ma petite. This is perfume. Don't you think it a beautiful scent? It reminds you of flowers and grass on a warm summer day."

And Georgiana could still smell the lilies, roses and herbs used in the fragrances. Ah, what an experience that had been. What a beauty.

But Georgiana also knew that her mother had only gotten to work in such a place as this because of her connections. She herself could never work there, they wouldn't let her. And she was to be proved right. When had went to that same shop a few days after her mother had died, they obviously thought of her as nothing but a filthy beggar. Well, she had been a filthy beggar, but that had been of little importance at the time.

And so she spend the days sitting in a corner, holding her bonnet in her tiny hands, either singing the songs her mother had taught her or crying. She did not earn much, but the money was enough to buy some bread and water. It was dangerous for a young girl of her age and she often was scared to death by the people who passed by, all in a hurry and most of them not even noticing her.

But as scary as Marseille during daytime was, it could not compare to the dark nights in a city full of thieves and straying dogs. Georgiana found herself a pitch black corner right next to a small bookshop belonging to a nice old man called Monsieur Rouge. There she would try to sleep every night, shivering from cold and fear. When she found she couldn't sleep, she would tell herself the tales her mother used to tell her, and with a tear sliding down a cheek and a smile on her lips she would finally fall into a deep slumber.

Why, dear God, are you doing this to me? What have I done to offend you? Why did you take my Maman away from me? Why? I want my mother back! Maman! Maman! Come back to me!

She did not know at that point that greater change was soon to come.