Warnings: Allusions to Cannibalism, Happy ending, I think, Dark Fairytale, dark themes,

.

After the funeral of the late Lord Delacroix, the change was so gradual that Ella Delacroix couldn't pinpoint when things started to happen.

At one point, she was sure that her step-sisters, Tatyana and Priscilla, protested but were silenced hastily.

First, it was Jehanne, let go for spilling the tea on carpets and wasting an entire batch of crumpets. Then, it was Marguerite, fired for the accidentally dropping the white linens in a tub of red dye.

Little by little, the staff was fired until finally, only the housekeeper, the butler and the groom were left.

Ella had protested the changes loudly and was told to pick up the slack, little things like darning her own stockings to emptying her own chamber pot. She doesn't notice when she started feeding the chickens and doing the dishes too but she does know that one day, she woke up with callouses in her hands and an acute pain in her back from scrubbing the floor.

She tried. She honestly tried her best to be kind.

Ella had forgiven the recently widowed Lady Delacroix her petty cruelties because even if Ella had lost a father, her stepmother had lost her husband.

But ripping apart her homemade dress just because she didn't want Ella to get out of the house was just the last straw. She hadn't done anything to her.

Ella had lost her father, was slowly losing her home and was also starting to lose her name when her stepmother started calling her Cinderella for having soot on her face.

Ella was desperate to get out, before she would forget her own self.

Ella bled on the hearth from the scratch marks of her stepmother's nails and wept on it with tears of frustration after her dress was torn apart. She did not know the manner of being that came out of the hearthstones that she contracted by accident, only that it was there and promised help. For a price.

"You want a night out," the being said, black smoke lazily curling around their nude form. It did not detract from its red eyes and the wicked gleam in them. "And you're willing to pay any price. How fortuitous." The last word was said with relish.

She managed to hold back her shivers. "I want to get out from this house for even a moment," Ella corrected. "I want to see more than the soot in this hearth."

The being laughed. "I will grant it. You will have until midnight. The price you will pay, will be worth it. Wet the hearth again with tears and blood, child, and I will answer."

She fell asleep with the wealth of smoke breathed on her by the being. And woke up with a start, soft deerskin gloves on her hands and a shimmering, expensive gown on her body the same shade as her eyes.

It had been ages since Ella last felt anything so rich and she wanted to cry for the birthright that had been denied to her.

But there was no time. Midnight, the beings whisper repeated, seeming to linger in the air between her and the cold and empty hearth. She was cold, but she had no doubt that it wasn't a dream and it wasn't because of the expensive and luxurious things she was wearing, but the unbelievable feeling of dread that weighed her down.

What sort of creature did she make a deal with?

.

.

Since she had been busy making contracts with beings of dubious morality, Ella was late.

This was not a good thing, because that meant all the main doors were already closed. The herald was no longer at his post and she had to make do with sneaking into the side door and admiring everything.

The chandelier, the numerous dancing people, the food.

Oh the food. If Ella wasn't so astounded by the noise, she would be eating as much food as she could manage. The table fairly groaned with it and no one so much as glanced at it!

"First time in a ball?" a young man with a sympathetic smile asked her. He was handsome with lovely eyes.

"Yes!" she answered with enthusiasm. She was nibbling on a small plate of crepes. She doesn't let it show that it had actually her thirteenth plate. She had never been so well fed in her life.

"Are you having fun?" he asked, seemingly amused by her good cheer.

"Extremely so," she said brightly.

"Even if you're not dancing?" he pressed.

With a jolt, Ella realised that no, she was not dancing and being one of the very few women not dancing, it was drawing attention to her.

"Ah," she said, the crepes suddenly tasting like ash in her mouth. One of those women sitting out was her stepmother and those sharp, cold eyes were watching her conversation partner like a hawk. "No," she managed to continue. "Dancing. I don't know anyone and I have no one to introduce me."

The man scoffed at the mention of society rules. "You know me. Will you dance with me?" he asked.

Ella lit up, smiling at the man. "Yes please," she said, curtsying.

The plate was removed in short order and both of them arranged themselves at the side while they waited for the next set.

"What's your name?" she asked, staring at the whirl of twirling skirts that passed by. "My caretakers call me Ella."

"Call me Harry," he said, a dimple showing up when he smiled. "Everyone does."

The name seemed familiar, but Ella was distracted. She was having the time of her life.

When the refrains for the set ended, everyone clapped and the women on the dance floor curtseyed to their partners.

"Shall we?" he asked, offering his elbow.

Ella eagerly looped her arm through his and allowed him to lead her to the center. When the set started, she had a moment's terror. What if she had forgotten those old lessons in dancing? But no, the moment her partner led her, Ella remembered.

She laughed in happiness and followed his lead with abandon, every inch of her aware of the lightest pressure of his hands.

"That's better," her dance partner said with that dimpled smile. "Your face seems like it was made for laughter."

"I've never had a better set," she said, ignoring the fact that she hadn't danced in years and therefore had nothing to compare it to but fading memories. "You are a very talented partner, thank you."

"I should be saying that," he said. "You are a very responsive partner. Would you like a walk in the garden with me, my lady?"

Now that he mentioned it, the room was stifling. "I would be honored," she said, curtseying.

.

.

The gardens were magnificent, with rose bushes and hydrangeas blooming everywhere, peppered with the occasional amaranths.

"These flowers are amazing," she breathed. It had been a long time since she had seen flowers blooming so abundantly. The gardener had been one of the first ones to be fired and the garden had suffered for it.

"Do you know what this ball is about, my lady?" Harry asked her.

"No!" she said firmly. "And I don't really care. I only wanted to attend a ball at least once in my life."

Her stepmother had done her level best to make sure Ella would not know about the ball. Except Tatyana had told her in secret and tried to give her one of their old dresses and Priscilla helped her sew ribbons to compliment the old lace. It didn't work of course.

"That's refreshing," he remarked. "But let me enlighten you. This ball is all about Prince Henry. So he can find a wife."

"Oh, the poor man," Ella sighed. "Marriages...can be like shackles. Especially if you choose the wrong person."

Ella thought back to her stepmother and her late father. Her father, who had loved to travel. Her stepmother, who wanted someone to be with her all the days of her life.

It was a very wrong match and both of them had suffered for it.

"That's," he stuttered. "That's a very different way of thinking about it."

"Really?" she asked. It was just common sense. But she was raised better than that and didn't say it out loud.

"Marriage," he explained patiently. "is supposed to be a partnership. Where one person holds another up. Done right, it's not a shackle, because you're both moving in the same direction."

It made Ella a bit bitter, hearing such idealistic words. But she had promised herself that she would enjoy this night out. There was a price bound to every second she spent outside of her house. If she didn't enjoy it, what was the point?

"For some people, maybe," she sighed, before visibly straightening up with forced cheer. "Let's go back to the ballroom. The night's still young, there's only two hours left until midnight!"

.

.

Tears and blood, then smoke. When Ella's vision cleared, the being was there, lounging without care on the hearthstones smeared crimson.

It was not her imagination that made those teeth look sharp. Perhaps she didn't look properly the first time.

"You haven't gotten it yet," the being sighed. "I'll give you one more night. Maybe two. Isn't this ball supposed to stretch for three nights?"

Ella didn't know that the ball would last that long. She didn't want to know how the being found out.

"More?" Ella whispered on numb lips. She doesn't know what price she was going to pay and the prospect of more terrified her. What could she possibly pay for the gift of three nights? "May I know the price? Please?"

The being laughed, a raspy sound that made her suppress shivers. "You should have thought of what you could pay before you shed your own blood, contractor. Now you are bound and you have made the contract open for me."

She shook and didn't bother to hide it this time.

"Two more nights," the being rasped. "Two nights. After that, I will tell you the price I demand. If you don't. Well." The being smiled with satisfaction. "There's a reason these contracts are bound in blood."

More smoke, and Ella was sitting alone, in front of the cold fireplace.

She desperately held back her tears, because the stones were still wet with her blood and she didn't want another accidental summoning.

.

.

Her stepsisters gave her tired glances. The bags under her eyes match theirs and no one said anything. She was supposed to be well-rested and the both of them worried why she had not slept.

"Darn the girl's stockings and have the cobbler thicken the soles of their dance shoes," Lady Delacroix instructed. "And be quick about it. The prince danced with that foreign woman all night, but I'm certain my girls can catch his attention tonight."

Ella, for the moment, pitied the prince again. Even if her stepsisters were darling, dear girls, marrying one of them would make the prince part of their family. And she would not wish her family on anyone, not even her worst enemy.

"Of course, stepmother," Ella murmured, bowing her head, acting extra obedient. It wouldn't do for her to be suspicious. And besides, her stepmother's gaze could freeze a lesser person. Ella had learned not to look her in the eyes anymore.

"And Cinderella, the garden is looking a bit wild. Prune those trees and cut the grass," she added.

Ella wanted to sag. That would take the whole day since she still had to cook lunch and feed the chickens.

She wanted to protest but she just bowed her head lower and said, "Yes, stepmother."

.

.

The cobbler had a long line and Ella just sighed at the sight of it. Of course it would have a long line. A lot of women had worn away the lining of their dancing shoes last night and needed them padded to prevent blisters.

Ella spared a coin to get herself some breakfast while she waited.

By the time she finished, it was nearing noon and she hadn't started cooking lunch yet.

Her stepsisters, the dear girls, were trying to peel the potatoes and doing a terrible job of it.

"Ella!" Tatyana exclaimed, dropping her potato.

"Ella!" Priscilla beamed, almost slicing her hand open with her peeling knife.

She smiled back, hiding a wince at how much potato was with the skin. Still, they tried. That was the important thing. It was a waste though, and she vowed to bake the skins later for her own meal.

"I've gotten your shoes fixed now," Ella said. "Did you have fun with last night's ball?"

The two girls giggled. "Yes, we wished you would have been there. The prince was very handsome and he danced like a dream," Tatyana sighed. Among the three sisters, she had always been the one who loved dancing the most.

"The cuts of their dresses were very clean," Priscilla added, always more interested in clothes than in the people wearing them. "I wanted to know their seamstress, except that would be rude, right Ella?"

"Yes, that would be rude," Ella agreed. "And how was stepmother?"

Both of them flinched.

"Mother was..." Tatyana trailed off uncertainly.

"Unhappy," Priscilla completed.

Ah, no wonder everyone was making themselves scarce. Lady Delacroix in a mood was something frightening.

"We'll fix up your stockings and you can rest from your last night. Try to socialize tonight, you need to talk to more people," she instructed them.

"So do you," Tatyana said without tact.

.

.

This time, Ella knew better and didn't flinch when the smoke covered her.

It was even more terrifying this time, because Ella had a few hours of sleep and remembered her mother's stories. She knew what this creature, this being, was, and she cursed her past self for bleeding. If there had been no blood...

"Contractor," the being purred. "What's this I see in your eyes?"

Ella couldn't hide the minute twitch and the demon cackled. "May I please have my second night?" she asked. Her voice trembled but it didn't break.

She knew what the demon saw in her eyes this time. Awareness.

"Of course, contractor," the demon agreed, more frightening for being so obliging. "I wouldn't dream of depriving you of your second night."

Smoke poured out from the demon's mouth and covered Ella's tattered working dress. The color this time was of the night sky, and it twinkled like it had the very stars sewn into it. The ends of the dress flared and daringly flashed her ankles if she moved too fast.

"Thank you," she said, because being polite was all she had at this point.

"Midnight is your deadline, contractor. Call me again when you're finished, I would love to see if my efforts of have borne fruit," the demon instructed.

What fruit? Ella wondered. But she knew better to ask and just nodded.

.

.

She wasn't as late this time, but Ella still wouldn't know what name to give to the herald if he asked.

What name would she give?

She was no longer Pierre Delacroix's daughter. She had spent more years of her life being a servant than being her father's daughter.

Eleanor Delacroix was long dead. She was just Ella, servant girl who had sneaked out for two nights with the help of a demon. Her mother would cry if she knew Ella had made such a contract.

So she sneaked in the side entrances again in shame and headed straight for the food. She had only had baked potato skins for lunch and absolutely nothing for dinner.

Halfway through moving around and pretending that all the other empty plates she'd left behind were from other people, Ella saw Harry again, hiding behind the curtains.

She couldn't help the giggles that came out of her and his lovely eyes snapped to hers. He looked terrified.

"Help," he mouthed.

She grabbed another plate, filled it with more sweet crepes and wandered in his direction. She thrust it behind the curtains and, after a moment's hesitation, he took it.

"What's so frightening?" she asked with a smile, looking over the dance floor and acting like talking to a curtain was normal.

"Mother's with unmarried daughters," was the answer that almost had her laughing out loud. She muffled it behind one gloved hand.

"Look pre-occupied and they won't harass a you," Ella advised. "You poor, unmarried thing."

He finally emerged from behind the curtains, looking aggrieved and amused in equal measure. "Someone, at least, is deriving amusement from my suffering," he complained.

Ella's smile was impish, the sort that polite society ladies don't show to gentlemen. "You exaggerate. They can't have been that frightening."

He looked a bit dazed before he blinked and shook his head. "You can't have met Lady Delacroix then," he said. "And I was waiting for you, Ella."

She didn't flinch at her stepmother's name and mentally applauded herself.

"Why?" she asked after a moment.

He just held out his hand and Ella straightened up, placing her hand on his. "Oh! I will give you one dance then, and another walk in the garden?"

"Please," he said.

Harry was just as wonderful a dance partner as she'd remembered and the gardens just as beautiful. This time, someone followed them from behind, watching from a discreet distance while still remaining in sight. A chaperone, she realized belatedly. Something that she'd forgotten they didn't have the night before.

"The garden is just as beautiful as I remember," she sighed wistfully. "I thought I dreamed this, but if anything, it's even better than my memories."

He smiled at her. "Thank you, it is my mother's garden," he said.

Ella blinked. Took a breath and released it shakily.

"Your...mother's?" she asked faintly. "But this is the palace? Home of the royal family?"

"Ella," Harry squeezed her fingers. "You couldn't have been unaware all this time?"

My God, she had been dancing with the prince. And she had teased him.

"I didn't know," she stammered, voice seemingly coming from so far away. "I. I never hear any news anymore and. And my sisters were the only reason I knew about this. I didn't even know how you looked like, or your name!"

He knelt on the ground beside her and pressed her fingers to his mouth. Really touching it and not just kissing the air politely. If she hadn't been gloved, it would have been really scandalous. As it was, Ella flushed, mouth snapping shut. She could feel the heat of it even through the layers of the lace gloves and it felt like it burned her.

"My name is Henry," he told her, voice low and eyes firmly on hers. "And I went to this ball thinking that I wouldn't find anyone interesting. And there you were, a vision of loveliness, more concerned about enjoying yourself than looking at me. It was fascinating.

"And you left me last night, wondering if I would ever see you again. And now that you're here, I can finally ask you. Ella, what's your real name?"

Her breath hitched. And just earlier, she had thought her old self to be dead.

"My name," she whispered, making him lean forward to hear. "Is Eleanor Delacroix. My stepmother is Lady Delacroix and my late father, Lord Delacroix, is long dead."

It was his turn to be shocked.

"You are the Lady Eleanor," he said. "The news said that you died with your father."

So that's why. All those years, she had wondered why no one went to their house to call on her. All her old friends never visited again. Because Lady Delacroix told them she was dead.

Tears gathered in her lashes and she stood up. "Yes, maybe I did," she said. She wouldn't cry in front of him.

"Excuse me, your highness," she said, curtseying, before picking up her skirts and running.

Harry scrambled up. "Ella, wait!" he called, but she didn't stop. If she stopped, she would fall down in front of him and beg for his help, for his protection.

.

.

The demon emerged from the smoke this time with a smile.

Ella took two steps back but the demon just advanced forward, each step on the hearthstones soundless and threatening.

"My my," it purred. "You have reaped the fruits of my labor."

"What are you talking about?" she demanded. Normally, she would be wary and careful. After the night she'd just had, she was just heartsore.

"The prince is in love with you," the demon announced. "And you ran away, you stupid girl!"

Ella didn't even hide that she was shaking. She sank to the ground, her knees weak.

"Your price is the Prince?" she asked. "You can't! He's so good, so pure!"

The demon cackled. "No. No, he is not my price. He's too good, as you said. You've dangled my bait though, contractor. Your prince will come and take you away. Once you've married him, call me again, we'll discuss my reward."

"And if I don't call you?" she asked. She didn't know what possessed her, but she had to ask.

The demon loomed over her, eyes inches from Ella's face. "Then I will find you and grant you sufferingimmeasurable, little contractor," it snarled.

Shakily, Ella nodded and the demon left her in her ragged dress.

.

.

The decision on what she would do could wait because Ella fell asleep immediately as soon as her head touched her worn pillow.

She dreamt of smoke and husky laughter, and blood coating old black stones.

Ella woke with a start, and her sisters were in her room, desperately trying to shake her awake.

"You have to wake up," Priscilla pleaded. "Oh my God, Ella. The Prince and his knights are here. Something about arresting mother."

Tatyana helped tie her hair while Ella hurriedly laced her gown. Priscilla fetched her boots and she just about jumped into it, wincing when it tugged the pins Tatyana was putting into her hair.

"Arresting mother?" she asked breathlessly as they ran down the stairs. It was the curse of living in the attic. Everything interesting happened on the first floor. "On what charges?"

"Something about appropriating your birthright," Tatyana said. "And staying in the manor on false pretenses."

Ella almost stumbled on the next step. "What?"

Priscilla tugged her upright and they moved again. "I think I heard one of them say something about the entailment going to Lord Delacroix's eldest child."

She was grateful they arrived in the receiving hall, even if that meant facing all the people, because she had no idea what to say to that.

"Ella," someone said.

She turned and. There he was, a vision in a knights uniform, looking crisp and clean. She felt so dirty compared to him that she flinched from his raised hand. Her sisters pressed their hands to her lower back in support.

"Prince Henry," she said, voice low. The three of them curtseyed in unison.

He looked pained. "Lady Eleanor," he answered. "May I please speak with you?"

When she nodded, his knights cleared the room. Tatyana stubbornly picked the corner chair and started embroidering, clearly intent on being the chaperone. Ella had to give Priscilla a look before the youngest girl would agree to leave the three of them.

"I cannot believe you arrested mother," she said, because it looked like he had no idea what to say.

He gave a small smile. "I wanted to speak with you again, and when she kept saying she had no idea who you were, I'm afraid I lost my temper." The prince somehow looked sheepish without looking awkward.

Ella covered her mouth and giggled. "Harry," she managed. "Why are you here?"

He straightened up, looking formal again. "I wanted to ask for your hand in marriage," he said. In her corner, Tatyana stifled a gasp into her sewing. Thankfully, only Ella heard. Harry added, "I know we're just friends. But I would rather marry a friend than a complete stranger."

She knew what he meant. Love would come later, when they had time.

"Engagement?" she asked, just to be certain.

He winced. "Might be a short one. Maybe two weeks," he said, then hurriedly added, "My father is stepping down in a few weeks and I need to be married to claim the crown."

Ella stood up and looked into his eyes, ignoring Tatyana's huff. His eyes had caught her attention at first, the lovely deep color of blue. It was a royal genetic trait, now that she knew who he was.

What she was looking for, however, was his kindness. She had had enough of petty and unkind people in her life who ruled over her. If he was her husband, would he treat her well?

Yes, his eyes answered. Yes, he would treat her well. He would never hurt her.

"Did you mean it," she said eventually. "When you believed marriage to be a partnership? That two people moving in one direction meant that it isn't a shackle but a bond?"

"Yes," he said.

From the first time they met, he had never lied to her.

"Then yes," Ella said, the words heavy but lighter than a feather. "I will marry you."

.

.

"Your price is the Queen," the demon declared when she summoned him after the wedding, when Harry was asleep in their shared bedroom.

"What?" she asked numbly. "But I can't."

"I know you can't," the demon said, still wearing that disturbing smile. "That's why I will do it for you."

The demon turned into black smoke that streamed towards her. Ella stumbled back, trying to get away but it was too late.

The smoke enveloped Ella's body completely, entering her mouth and choking her breath. Her mind felt another and she flinched, feeling the intrusion like acid.

Hello, the demon said. Let me gather your price for you, little contractor.

Ella blacked out, more for self-preservation than fear, her mind curling on itself.

Cruelly, the demon woke her up. Ella instinctively shied away.

Thank you, little star. You've paid well. Have fun with your little happy ever after, the demon said, before fading away.

Within a few breaths, she realised that she was herself again. Screaming and blood flashed through her memory and she flinched.

Shaking with denial and fear, she looked to her hands and found them clean of the blood in her memories. If she concentrated, she could remember her own hands moving of their own will to tear the Queen's heart out.

"Ella, why?" the Queen had asked.

The demon had laughed in her body and the Queen had turned pale. "You are not Ella."

She turned from the memories with a shudder, hurriedly washing her hands.

The heart, what had the demon done to the heart? She wondered, before going as pale as a sheet. Her hands went to her stomach and she rushed to the chamber pot to vomit.

"Ella, the maids said you are not well," Harry called out through the bathroom door.

Harry! Instead of cheering her up, his voice made her dry heave again. She had killed his mother. She was a monster.

"My dear, that sounds serious. Can I come in?" he asked.

He would worry though, if she said no. She couldn't make him worry.

"I look terrible," she managed faintly, voice rough. "If you can bear that, you may enter."

Being who he was, Harry entered and immediately rushed to her side, pushing back her hair. His gentle touch made her shudder. She had expected a slap. "You do look terrible," he announced. There was worry there and concern. "Did you eat anything bad? Did anyone put something in your food? I'll check the kitchens."

She managed a quiet huff, holding fast to his hand to stop him from running off. Of course the first thing he would think about was assassination. "This will pass," she told him with as much confidence as she could muster. Abruptly, there was the memory of a husky voice whispering in her ear and Ella shuddered again.

Immediately, his hold on her tightened. "Liar," he said fondly, looking at her sweaty face. "Rest for the day, I will postpone the carriage ride through the capital."

The carriage ride throughout the capital! He did not know yet that the queen was dead.

Ella fainted.

.

.

There was a geas on her tongue that stopped her from speaking about the demon and the contract she made.

Ella knew this because she had tried to confess once and had choked as her tongue twisted inside her mouth. This was her punishment for making that contract. To live the rest of her life carrying the guilt of that murder.

Harry changed after that day. He grew sombre and grim. Only Ella could make him smile and she made sure he did smile at least once each day.

She thought she was finally free of the demon after that, but after she gave birth to the next king, to the heir, there was the flash of black smoke and the raspy chuckle that still haunted her nightmares, making her seize up in the birthing bed and alarming all the doctors around her.

Ella had screamed and wept, blood loss making her hysterical. Harry clutched her hand desperately and promised to check all corners of the palace for assassins and only then did she calm down.

Ella was a very protective mother.

On another note, her sisters each had their marriages. Tatyana to a duke and Priscilla to a foreign prince. By this point, Ella's reputation as very protective of the people she loved had been cemented after she'd skewered one of Prince Lucas's would be assassins with a knitting needle. It was absolutely no surprise that she'd threatened murder on her sisters' husbands should they ever cry.

It was a credit to their character that they took it in good humor.

Ella had her happily ever after, but she knew the price for that. So she made sure to value every second of every day. Because soon, it might be her turn to have her heart torn.

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Uhm. Sorry?

Scream at me in the reviews please.