Cinderella was late.

She really tried not to be. It wasn't polite to keep others waiting. While she knew the Festival Planning Committee wouldn't begin without her, she still felt bad at the idea that they were out in the garden, sipping tea and wondering where she was.

The situation she found herself in, however, was not her fault, or so she told herself. Really, she thought as she picked up her skirt with one hand so that her quick steps didn't fall over the hem, it was the mice who had made her late. Suzy had not liked her dress, then Jaq had suggested pearls, but Gus couldn't remember where the peals had gone and, well, it had been an eventful afternoon.

So here she was, rushing through the many grand halls of the castle, wearing a lavender dress that was accented by a beautiful necklace that had been a gift on her birthday. Her hair was tied back with a ribbon, but strands kept falling into her face because of her rush. The only other jewelry she wore was a brilliant diamond ring on her left hand, symbolizing her marriage.

She came upon a fork in the hallway, quite literally, and she bit her lip. She eyed the left for a moment, watching as a servant walked past with an empty vase. She usually went that way, but she was already behind…

"Right, then," she decided suddenly, turning to go down the shortcut.

The hallway was lined, like many others, with grand portraits of past monarchs, princes, princesses, or even scenery. It seemed so large and intimidating, although her husband had assured her there was a reason for that. She shivered as she walked past suits of armor that lined the hall; the imposing feeling this hallway left her with was one of the reasons she tended to avoid it.

The other reason, she thought, wincing, was because this hallway went straight past the throne room.

And the King was not in a good mood.

"…again! Told to never return! Disgraceful, shameful, an absolute embarrassment!"

The King's angry bellows could be heard from down the hall. Even the guards outside the throne room seemed uncomfortable, grimacing at the far wall. Cinderella gave them understanding looks, having never been on the wrong side of the King's temper herself, but knowing how bad it could be.

"And this makes five!" The King's voice became clearer the closer she walked, the words nearly snarled out. "Five schools! Not a place would even consider an acceptance now, not after this!"

That made Cinderella slow down. She was used to hearing policy and politics from the King, but what was he talking about? Five schools? She hadn't heard anything about schools in the kingdom, at least not anything especially troublesome.

As she came upon the doors to the throne room, she noticed one had been left slightly ajar. Enough that, from the angle she was coming up on, if she stopped, she could see somewhat into the room.

"I really shouldn't," she said softly, to herself. "Eavesdroppers never hear good things…"

"Actually, your majesty, this is number six," a female voice replied, and Cinderella stopped completely short, straightening up in surprise. Her eyes wandered to the slightly open door, where she could see the King's face growing redder by the second. "I attended Haineswood for two weeks."

Haineswood! Cinderella's eyes widened. She knew that name! Haineswood Academy for Young Women. She'd overheard her stepsisters gossiping about it enough; it was a well-known boarding institution for girls of certain means. If memory served correct, it was extremely difficult to even be considered for acceptance.

"You…! I…!" The King spluttered, seemingly running out of words that would accurately display his fury. He jumped out of his throne, a finger pointing in the direction of the door. "Go to your room!"

There was no response, but Cinderella saw the edge of the woman's dress creep into view as she curtsied to leave. Wildly confused, the Princess was too stunned to leave, her feet planted firmly in the carpet. She looked towards the guards, but they seemed more relieved that the yelling had ceased than they did baffled by the King's reply.

Quiet footsteps were the only sound that were made. One of the doors opened slightly more, and out slipped the woman whose voice Cinderella had heard. The blonde could only stare at the figure, who looked down the hallway, and then the other way, becoming startled when she saw the Princess standing there.

However, she held her stare, her look of surprise turning into one of clarity, and then grudging acceptance. She was a tall young woman, younger than Cinderella, perhaps closer to sixteen. Waves of orange hair that went mid-ribcage stuck out plainly against the unfortunate olive-ish color of her dress. Her hazel eyes went flat, like the freckles across her face, and she threw back her shoulders in determination, walking past without so much as a second glance. There was a stiffness to her posture, as though it came not from etiquette, but rather…anger?

The Princess, still completely thrown off by what she had seen and heard, looked back into the throne room. The door was further open now, and she could clearly see the King slumped in his throne, the anger having left him as soon as it had come on. He cradled his forehead in his hand, clearly upset by what had occurred.

Cinderella took a step forward, as though she would go into the throne room, then hesitated, and took a step back. She wasn't sure what she had witnessed, but something told her it was not the moment to intercede. Instead, she looked back, noticing that the young woman was already gone.

She blinked.

"What was that?" She asked herself in a whispered muse, knowing the guards would pretend not to hear, and therefore not answer.

A clock on the opposite end of the hallway gonged, signaling the time. She looked up, squinting at it, before her eyes flew wide. She was even later for the meeting now!

"Ask Char about it later," she said with finality, nodding at the idea of questioning her husband when she had the chance. She filed the odd interaction away, and hurried off to her meeting, running through every plausible excuse in her mind as she did.

"Sorry, your majesty," Cinderella said as her husband pulled out the seat next to him at the dining table, waiting till she was sitting to push it in. "The Festival Planning Committee meeting ran a little late."

"Hmph," was all the reply she received, the King obviously in a grumpy mood, and not paying attention to her.

It didn't bother the blonde; her husband next to her had smiled brightly when she entered the room, and it hadn't faded since she had sat down. "How did the meeting go?"

"Oh, you know," she said, waving her hand dismissively. "Lady Dernish really wanted violets to be the flower this year, but I convinced her that it might be difficult and she agreed to tulips instead."

"Why not violets?" Charmond asked, tilting his head slightly at the question. His newlywed wife smiled kindly at him.

"Violets don't grow as well during the season," she explained, and he nodded understanding. "I always loved growing tulips in spring. They're some of my favorite flowers."

"You should talk to the Royal Gardeners," Char suggested, his hazel eyes running over her features. He reached over to tuck a few strands of hair behind her ear, and she ducked her head with an embarrassed smile at the familiar gesture. "They would probably love the input. Although, they'll probably be put out with me."

Cinderella's brows creased. "Why?"

"If they're your favorites, I'll be taking a bunch and giving them to you every day," he answered, and her embarrassed smile widened in pleasure.

"If you do that, then there won't be any left to see in the gardens. Then the Royal Gardeners will be really upset," she answered, her tone remanding him lightly, although there was no ill will behind it.

"See," the Prince began, forming an argument to the contrary. "I'll make sure they grow so many that — "

He suddenly cut himself off, eyes growing wide when he saw another person slip into the seat across from his. He hadn't paid much mind to the extra chair set out for dinner, although now it appeared he should have.

Cinderella looked at her husband, back towards the young woman, then to the King who seemed to narrow his eyes in the redhead's direction, then once more to her husband. The mood at the table felt suddenly tense, although the Princess was bewildered as to why. Who was this person that had so casually intruded upon their dinner?

"You're — You're back." The Prince said, looking somewhere between bewildered and unsure if he was seeing correctly. "Wait, why are you back?"

"A pleasure to see you too, your highness," the redhead said, regarding the Prince with a frankness that was nearly rude. Studying her closely, Cinderella noted things that struck her as exceedingly like her husband's: the curve of her lips, the color of her eyes, and even the shape of her eyebrows.

"No, I meant – er, hello, welcome back," Char corrected, straightening up slightly, still perplexed. "I didn't expect you to return, uh, so soon."

"It's been nearly a year," the young woman said bluntly. Cinderella noticed a necklace mostly tucked into the redhead's dress, the simple gold chain against her neck, the only proof that she was wearing any jewelry at all.

"Has it been that long?" He wondered, seemingly starting to recover from his earlier astonishment. "It feels like it wasn't that long."

"They say time moves differently when you're having fun, your highness," the redhead said. "Of course, when you're at boarding school, time doesn't seem to move much at all."

"Huh?" Char asked, blinking at the verbal sparring. He was not used to putting this much effort into keeping up with a conversation.

The redhead sighed, shaking her head. Then she jutted her chin in Cinderella's direction, and the Prince's eyes widened once more, looking to the blonde, who was growing increasingly concerned.

"Oh, yes," he said, straightening up some more, and clearing his throat. "This is Cinderella, my…my…"

Cinderella looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to finish the thought. When her husband seemed unable to do so, unable to find the words, she decided to speak up instead.

"I'm Charmond's wife," Cinderella explained, waiting for the teenager to have some sort of reaction. There was none; it was as though the young woman had already known. "How do you do Miss…?"

"Sera," the young woman intoned, eyes flickering in between the two adults.

"Sera," Cinderella repeated, the unusual name sticking out oddly in her mind.

"You're not going by your full name anymore?" The Prince asked, brows pulling together in confusion. Cinderella felt lost as well; what was the relationship between her husband and this stranger across the table?

"Seraphina doesn't exactly roll off one's tongue, does it?" The redhead shot back, almost defensive at the shortened form of her name. "And the use of titles is strictly prohibited at Batley Conservatory. Hence, Sera."

Seraphina, Cinderella thought, the name sounding achingly familiar. She couldn't place where she had heard it before, but it seemed so unique that she was sure she had never been introduced to anyone by that name until now.

She had heard of Batley Conservatory though. It was in the far reaches of the kingdom, deep in the countryside, miles from any sort of civilization. She knew this because her stepsisters had made snide comments for years about the girls that went there. Apparently, it was less of a boarding academy, and more of a militaristic type school, meant as a last resort for wayward girls.

"Are you returning soon?" Charmond asked, his voice straining, as though he knew the answer already but didn't want to say it aloud.

"Princess Seraphina will not be returning to Batley Conservatory," the King finally said, his voice rising in anger at each word. "Apparently, she racked up so many infractions that the school has decided she is better off somewhere else!"

"Again?" Charmond said, groaning at the thought. He threw a look over to the teenager, sighing. "Is this going to be another Haineswood?"

"I'm offended at the lack of faith you have in your sister, your highness," Sera said lightly, "Haineswood was two weeks; I lasted at Batley for nearly two years."

Cinderella gasped. Three heads swiveled in her direction; the Prince looking a mixture of concerned and confused, the King still red-faced in anger, and the redhead with an unreadable expression.

"Princess Seraphina!" She exclaimed, everything suddenly falling into place. "Of course! I remember now, it was all anyone could talk about for weeks, the Princess' dismissal from Haineswood! Stepmother said—well, she said some rather unkind things about it."

"I'm grateful my life provided your family with gossip, your highness," the teenager responded, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Cinderella felt her face grow hot. "Oh! I-I didn't mean like that. Only that I remembered where I had heard about what happened, that's all."

"And clearly it left such an impression that it took you this long to recall," the redhead answered dryly.

"I-I…I, um, I," Cinderella stuttered, not sure how to respond as her face grew hotter by the second.

A satisfied glint appeared in Seraphina's eyes; Cinderella noted that it looked identical to the way Char's did when he made up his mind. "The tabloids said you were well-spoken at the wedding, your highness, have the months since then, planning tea parties and organizing balls, waned your vocabulary?"

"That's not fair, Seraphina, you're basing an opinion after a few minutes and a handful of stories," Char protested, speaking on behalf of his wife. "Cinderella has done nothing for you to be so standoffish."

"Nothing?" The teenager exclaimed, exaggeratedly putting a hand over her heart, as though she had been wounded. Too little too late the Prince realized that he had fallen neatly into a perfectly laid trap. "Is that why I learned that you had been wed through a newspaper?"

"You're being ridiculous, we sent you an invitation," Char answered, defensiveness creeping into his tone. "Which, by the way, we never received a reply to. If anyone should be upset, it's Cinderella and I."

"Well, your highness, how could I respond when I didn't receive my invitation until three weeks after the wedding?" The girl answered, her tone flat, but the stiffness in her shoulders suggested she was clearly irritated.

"Did you stop to think that maybe there was a mix-up with the mail?" Char replied, exasperated.

"Did you stop to think that a letter postmarked the day before your wedding would never arrive in time?" The flat tone turned cold, bitter almost.

"I think that may have been my fault. I'm sorry," Cinderella spoke up, timidly responding. "The wedding was so quick, there were so many invitations…"

"…and you forgot about the Prince's sister until it was too late?" Sera supplied, watching as Cinderella bit her lip and nodded, eyes downcast, the redness in her cheeks never fading. If the teenager felt anything from the apology, her scoff didn't show it. "You didn't think to send a messenger?"

Cinderella swallowed noisily, trying desperately to disguise how uncomfortable she was. "I suppose…I mean…"

"That is quite enough," the King snapped, intervening on the conversation to put an end to it. "This line of questioning is over. You will not be upending life in the castle with any more of the behavior that has gotten you dismissed from five schools in no less than ten years!"

"Six schools, nearly ten years, your majesty," the redhead corrected, absently.

A vein pulsed in the King's forehead as he thundered, "Insolence!"

"Father—Seraphina, please," Char said, trying to remain calm and a voice of reason throughout the family matter. Cinderella felt his hand close around hers under the table, and she looked up. Servants came out, placing plates in front of the royals of steaming dishes. "Can't we move on from this, have a nice dinner?"

Both the King and the teenager stared at one another with identical pairs of eyes, as though willing the other to break.

"I've lost my appetite," the teenager finally said, abruptly pushing her chair away from the table. The chair legs scraped against the floor, echoing through the silent dining room.

"You will remain seated and eat your dinner," the King scowled, his voice commanding, leaving little room for argument. The teenager was halfway out of her seat already, seemingly disregarding what the King was saying. "Princess Seraphina, that is an order!"

"I'll be in my room," the redhead said lightly in response, walking away from the table.

"You—I—you go to your room!" The King shouted after her, blustering and unable to come up with a better response.

The girl left from the dining room and Cinderella let go of a breath she hadn't known she'd been holding. The air around the table was tense. The woman's worried eyes shifted from the king, who was fuming, and her husband, who had pressed two fingers against his forehead, as though he had a headache from the ordeal.

"Another dismissal?" Char sighed again, looking at his father questioningly. "How many infractions did she have?"

"Forty-three in the last month alone!" The King's eyes flashed and his fist banged across the table. "They said never had a student shown such a lack of care towards the Conservatory rules!"

Char winced, mostly at the harsh tone his father used. "Batley takes the hardest cases. If she was dismissed from there…"

"No other boarding school in the kingdom will accept Princess Seraphina," the King grumbled, angrily stabbing at his food with his fork. "If, if, any other boarding school were to take a chance on her, it would have to be in another kingdom."

"Does she have to go back to a boarding school?" Cinderella questioned, perplexed. "I mean, if she keeps getting dismissed, there has to be a reason, right? Wouldn't it be easier to have her tutored here so you could find out why?"

The King and Prince stared at her, quite frankly, like she had grown another head. Self-consciously, she tugged at the sleeves of her dress. The idea hadn't seemed as farfetched as the men in the room seemed to believe it was.

"Cinderella," Char started, gently trying to break the news to his wife, "You heard how many infractions she had in just one month. She would wreak havoc on the castle if she was tutored here. As it is, in-between schools when she comes, well, you saw how she behaves."

"In-between schools?" Cinderella asked, puzzled by the response, and piecing together what it meant. "She doesn't come on holidays?"

"Of course she does," Charmond assured her quickly, taking note of the worry in Cinderella's features. "She was here for last…no, wait that was…she definitely came on…no, that was the other year…"

"You don't remember?" Cinderella asked again, rather taken aback at the idea as she took a bite of her own food.

If it phased him at all, the Prince didn't show it. Instead, he shrugged. "If it's been a few years, it's probably because she hasn't wanted to come home. She's quite moody for being fourteen."

"Sixteen," the King corrected.

"Right, sixteen, that's what I meant," Char responded, unaffected. "Don't let her sourness affect you while she's here. Eventually something will turn up and she'll be gone soon enough."

Cinderella frowned, her brows pushing together. "Shouldn't I get to know her though? She is my sister by marriage, after all."

"I'll have to agree with my son," the King answered this time, leveling Cinderella a look that all but said to leave the topic of conversation. "You have a good heart, my dear, and it's to be commended. But Princess Seraphina has a shrewd tongue and has never taken kindly to matters of family."

"Oh," Cinderella replied, feeling a bit out of sorts about the whole thing, "Well, alright then."

"Father," Char said, changing the subject, "Did you hear about Elsemaine's newest ship? They're saying it can travel at twice the speed of a regular vessel."

The King snorted. "They can say a lot of things, it doesn't mean it's true."

Cinderella, who usually tried to keep up with the conversation, found her mind drifting during the meal. Her eyes kept falling back towards the empty seat on the other side of the table. Something about the entire exchange had left her…unsettled. So much so that she found herself occupied by such contemplations well after dinner.

Things just didn't seem to make sense. She could understand the Princess was upset. After all, her brother's marriage was an important moment, and she had to find out about it through the tabloids. What she couldn't quite wrap her head around, however, were the reactions of the King and her husband.

It seemed to Cinderella that the tenseness of dinner stemmed from something more than the Princess' dismissal from another school. That was a big part of it, to be sure, but there was something else. Something she couldn't quite put her finger on. The moment Princess Seraphina had sat down to dinner, the entire mood had changed, and it left Cinderella trying to puzzle out why.


"Coin for your thoughts?" Char asked lightly, having noticed Cinderella had been unusually quiet as they settled in for the night. "You haven't said much since dinner."

"Just thinking," she answered absently, weaving a ribbon around a short braid.

"Anything you'd like to share?" He wondered from where he lay in bed. She looked at him through the mirror and shrugged.

"Dinner was…" she searched for the right word, landing on, "interesting."

"I know, policy is boring," Char declared, shaking his head. "But once Father gets on a subject, you know he doesn't let up. At least tonight's topic was macroeconomics and not grandchildren. Again."

"I meant Princess Seraphina," she explained further, practiced fingers turning to the other side of her hair.

"She didn't hurt your feelings, did she?" Char wondered, sitting up further, and eyeing her worriedly. "She can be rather…impertinent."

"She's upset about the wedding, I don't think she really meant what she said," Cinderella said in response, thinking hard. "And I should have thought to send a messenger. Maybe if I had, she would have made it in time."

"All the way out to Batley Conservatory, the day before the wedding?" Char wondered, skeptical. "She's being unreasonable. That's a three-day ride, at least, in the best circumstances."

"But I should have tried," Cinderella stressed. "I understand, from her perspective it looks like I didn't even care."

"You shouldn't let her make you feel so guilty," Char said, watching as she wound a second ribbon around another short braid. "One day you were scrubbing floors, the next you were planning a royal wedding. Besides, it's not like you put together the invitation list – most of the people invited you'd never even heard of!"

"I suppose," she sighed, accepting his words, but finding no calmness in them. "I don't know if she sees it that way, though."

"Forget about what she sees," he responded, eyes tracking her as she slipped into bed next to him. "I was serious at dinner. Don't let what she says affect you. She's making judgments based on tabloids, and that's not who you are."

"I know, but…" she bit her lip, struggling to come up with the right words. "I still feel like it shouldn't have taken seeing an extra seat the day before the ceremony to realize she hadn't been invited."

"Out of sight, out of mind," Char said dismissively. "The ceremony still went forward and all's well that ends well."

"Apparently not," Cinderella answered, "I think she's hurt. Maybe that's why she's so angry."

"Or maybe," Char countered, "She's always been like that and you're reading too much into this. Ever since we were children she's had a chip on her shoulder."

"Were you close then, as children?" She asked, as he took her hand thoughtfully, his thumb tracing circles around the rougher skin. A few months couldn't undo a lifetime of hard work.

"Hm. Not really." He answered honestly. "I was five when she was born. We were always at two different stages. And she left for boarding school young too."

"Did you write to her while she was away? Did you miss her?" Cinderella pressed, trying to glean more details.

"Not really," he answered, becoming wary of her questions. "I was old enough by that point that my lessons were much more serious, and when I wasn't studying I did the things I liked."

"What about when she would come home? Did you ever do things together?"

"Like I said, we were at always at two different stages," he sighed, before grumbling, "Besides, she's always had a sharp tongue. I got enough of it from Father, I didn't need any more from her."

"Well, what about—"

"I don't mean to be rude, Cinderella, but I don't want to continue talking about Princess Seraphina, especially so late," he finally said, a note of firmness in his voice that signaled to her that any other questions she asked would lead nowhere.

And that was a curious thing.

"Alright," she acquiesced, deciding that tomorrow she would start doing some research into the issue at hand. "It's cold out."

"It's been a chilly spring," he said by way of explanation, before gesturing to the pulley rope that would alert the servants of his wishes. "I can ring for more firewood?"

"No," she answered, scooting over so that he could reach his arms around her. "It's not proper for me to be falling asleep in here. You're supposed to come to my room, not the other way around. That's why we have separate rooms."

"We have separate rooms because it's a ridiculous tradition," he corrected, pulling her tightly against him. She curled her fingers around his nightshirt, content to be in his arms. "Besides, I think the servants know you're in my room every night. Once they started setting out your clothes here, I think it became less of a well-kept secret."

"It's still not proper," Cinderella said, slightly blushing at what he had been referring to. It was true, she spent every evening in his chambers, and it's not like anyone was surprised when she left in the morning.

"We could go to your room then, if you're so worried about propriety?" He proposed.

"No, that wouldn't work," she answered, starting to feel the pull of sleep. Drowsily, she shut her eyes.

"Why not?"

"Because the mice are in my room," she said, matter-of-factly, despite her husband reacting with a laugh. "And Bruno likes having the whole bed to himself."


Disclaimer: Cinderella, the mice, the prince, the king, etc. and the setting for this story, are from Disney's Cinderella. I own nothing; everything represented from the films, etc. is/are the property of Disney. Other characters are from my own imagination and are not associated with Disney.