The Little Ash Girl.

the term “orphan” isn’t used often, but sometimes she hears the whispered word fly past her ears, the remnant of a town gossip session. and even though she’s sixteen, and then eighteen, and then twenty-one, and then older, it never hurts any less.

years of working through back pain, cramps, migraines, cuts, scrapes, fever, the flu…in any kind of weather

being thankful the magic made the calluses and cracks on her hands go away, because how could she dance with the prince otherwise?

(by the wedding day, he’s convinced her not to wear gloves, because he loves holding her sandpaper hands)

returning from the ball, committing everything to memory because she knows she’ll probably never see the prince again

trying on her glass slipper every night since then to make sure it still fits, and this isn’t all a mistake or a dream

when she moves to the castle, she makes sure that the servants never feel overwhelmed. their quarters are immaculate and they always eat well, and all the children go to school.

waking up at sunrise, before the whole court, expecting a bell to summon her and trying to remember if the laundry’s been done

sometimes, when this happens, she has breakfast with the cook and staff. she always offers to help with their tasks, but they are careful to let her rest, not wanting to trigger any bad memories.

she befriends the castle mice.

(the mice were always her favorite)

eventually the prince notices the single, faded scar on her left arm. neither one says anything, as they hadn’t discussed the finer details of her old life just yet, but when he holds her that night she feels safer than ever before.

the next morning she steals away to her father’s old cottage, and takes in the light shining through the broken windows, her growth chart on the wall, the scraps of her mother’s old dress; and her heart fills to think she has two places she can call home. she cleans until it’s spotless again, and then goes home to her husband, who gently wipes the dirt from her face.

“don’t, she says. “it’s a part of who i am.” 

she has a good cry, and then a good laugh when she smudges some soot on his cheek. they both agree they look better this way.

EVER AFTER (1998)

All sentences here are drawn from the dialogue of Lady Tremaine in Cinderella (2015). Feel free to change pronouns, etc. and alter them as appropriate for your character!

“Charming… How perfectly charming.”

“You did not say your daughter was so beautiful.”

“Now, now… Mustn’t blub.”

“Oh, you needn’t call me that.”

“Madam will do.”

“What a good girl you are!”

“Do shut up.”

“Don’t you see? None of that matters.”

“We’re ruined. How will we live?”

“Do clean yourself up.”

“Oh, [name], you’re too clever.”

“Is there someone we’ve forgotten?”

“Wouldn’t you prefer to eat when all the work is done, [name]?”

“Having delivered your news, why are you still here?”

“You’re too ambitious for your own good!”

“After all I’ve done…”

“This thing is so old-fashioned, it’s practically falling to pieces.”

“Do come on!”

“This does not bode well…”

“Forgive me… I did not mean to intrude!”

“Your secret is safe with me.”

“Are you looking for this?”

“My story would appear to be ended.”

“Did you steal it?”

“Nothing is ever given. For everything we must pay, pay.”

“Love is not free.”

“Best to leave it to me. That way, we all get what we want.”

“Well, that is a mistake.”

“Because you are young, and innocent, and good! And I…”

“No one need ever know the truth.”

“Do with her what you will. She’s nothing to me.”

“What a wonderful surprise!”

“Fate may yet be kind to us, [name].”

“I told you, it’s no one of any importance!”

“I forbid you to do this!”

Danielle: Did you love my father?

Rodmilla: I barely knew him. Now go away, I’m tired.