The two stepsisters sat in front of you, their postures straight and their menacing eyes staring ahead of them into the vanity mirror. Pleased with themselves, their freshly painted primly pink lips would smirk condescendingly in secret. Attempting your best to ignore them while you busied yourself with their hair, you were doing Rosa's dark, silky hair first. You brushed her strands gently to take out any tangles and knots rooted within. Then came the braiding that she had demanded from you; no, not like a simple braid, but rather a crowned one.

"You know, mother shouldn't have arranged this tea party for us. Those girls drive me insane," the dark head grumbled. With her talking, her head had moved, making your progress on her braids slow. Pursing your lips, you furrowed your forehead in concentration to fix the strand that ran away from home.

Delphine raised her eyebrows at that, fanning herself as she waited for her turn. "They're one of the most reputable girls in the country. What is there not to like?"

"They talk about the Prince all the damn time. They look like fools doing so."

The other sister voiced your exact thoughts at that sentence. "Do we not... also... speak of the Prince a lot?"

Rosa blinked for a few moments, her expression blank. Her mouth forming an 'o', she let out a nervous chuckle. "Right! That's right. We both like the Prince too. I... I suppose you have a point there, dear sister." You stared at her through the mirror with your features twisted. [e/c] hues landing on a girl fidgeting in her seat, you noticed something off. Was it just a fig of your imagination or was she acting strange? You wondered why that was.

Feeling your attention on her, her own pair of eyes settled on you through the mirror and she sent you a nasty glare. Nearly flinching at it, it was a miracle you had not let go of the braid.

"What are you looking at, peasant?" she sneered. "Hurry up and get my hair done. We do not have all the time in the world to be dealing with your slow ass."

Silently nodding, you returned to braiding her hair and mentally chastised yourself for getting into more trouble. It was none of your business anyway. The most important to you at this current time should be to finish this task and leave unscathed. You could not allow yourself to get distracted — the faster, the better.

You pinned her hair down firmly and hurried to do the other side. The two continued to speak and once again, your curious ears could not help but listen in. "Delphine, I also heard how if neither of us ends up marrying the Prince, mother will find suitors for us. That's what she said to her friend."

The auburn haired girl shrugged in nonchalance. "What's wrong with that?"

The head in front of you whipped to the left so fast, you almost ruined the braid again. Her face full of disgust and shock, Rosa shook her head, aggravated. "What do you mean what's wrong with that?! What if she forces us to marry some sleazy, old man for the sake of his money? What about love? We'll be stuck in unhappy marriages for the rest of our lives!"

The other girl began to argue and the next thing you knew, a whole fight broke out between them.

"It is not likely she'll match us with just anyone. But if there's money involve, then of course I wouldn't mind!"

Letting go of Rosa's hair, you slowly backed away from them as they stood up to yell at each other. Finding the best time to sneak out unnoticed, you scurried out the room as they tackled each other and threw things towards one another. Down the staircase you went and you reached the first floor before stepmother could leave her bedroom to see what the commotion was all about.

Well then... they were quite ready for a tea party, weren't they?

You were gone from the scene, but something was stuck on your mind — something that Rosa had said. She mentioned about love and how she wouldn't want to get matched with a suitor. There was desperation in her voice, but you didn't know what it was for. It was unusual to see her in such a state. Oftentimes, she would do anything stepmother tells her to do, so for the first time, you sort of see her as her own person. And though you still hated her, you felt bad for the pressure she'd been dealing with.

Walking through the house, you paused for a second.

This situation reminded you of another. A pretty girl popped up in your mind... Ira. The day you met her, she told you how miserable she felt with her fiance and soon to be husband. You felt bad for her too, but you also ended up feeling jealous of her. Thinking that she was taking everything for granted, you never wrote a letter when she asked you to.

You took a deep breath. Maybe now would be a good time to write her. Passing the silent, looming hallway connected to the room where you slept in, you went over to where your dirty mat laid. Lifting up the corner of the old thing, you found the crumpled piece of paper that contained the address Ira gave to you. Now in your palm, you glanced down at it and gingerly smoothed out the wrinkled lines of the small sheet. Brushing off the ash to have a clearer look, you then fetched out a clean piece of paper and quill in the corner of the room. You may or may not have stolen a stack of paper from stepmother's office one time.

Setting it down on the cold, stoned floor, you knitted your eyebrows together and stared at the blank, old thing. You had no idea how to start, nor did you know what to write about.

Yes, you knew how to write, since your father used to help you everyday. A smile stretched on your lips as you thought about the memory where he held your hand and guided it to write out the letters of the alphabet. Patiently helping you write out the letter 'a', he helped you make the fanciest one ever. Afterwards, he let you try it out yourself, where you wrote it too round and grew frustrated. Hugging you comfortingly, he had stroke your hair and murmured words to soothe.

"I don't want to do this anymore," you whimpered, feeling hot tears in the corner of your eyes that begged to come out.

A pat and then the smooth strokes of his hand gave you the chance to calm down. "I believe in you, my little flower. Anything hard always take some time, do they not? But you are strong, which means you'll win this battle. Now get back onto the battlefield, soldier," father explained, chuckling a little. He gestured towards the paper and you looked at him to give him a determined thumbs up.

A fire within your eyes, you glared down at the paper and your grip on the quill tightened.

Father laughed at you and quickly shook his head. You faltered and blinked at him in bewilderment. "Not like that! If you hold onto the quill too hard, it will make the writing rigid."

Picking up the quill, you carefully dipped it into the ink and began to write. It started off shaky, for you have not wrote for such a long time, but the quality of it improved over time as you got the hang of it.

Dear Ira,

I apologize for not having written to you so soon. I've been quite busy, but I finally have the time to write to you. I hope you're doing well. How is your situation with your fiance doing? I am still very sorry to hear that... no one deserves to marry someone that they do not want. Actually, one of my stepsisters reminded me of your situation, so here I am, writing to you. Soon she may be forced to marry someone too. In other news, have you been doing anything exciting? Would you like to meet up again sometime?

Your friend,

[Y/N]

It was short and simple, but you had nothing else to write about. You didn't want to tell her anything about your life either, so it was sort of one-sided. Softly sighing, you folded the sheet in half and found an envelope to put it in. Dipping the quill in ink once more to label the address on the front of the envelope, you were now done. The tools being placed back in their respective hiding spots, you stood up and stuffed the envelope into the pocket of your trousers.

Leaving the room, it wasn't difficult to find your stepmother again. She was pacing in the kitchen and fuming about something. The moment she saw you, she snarled at you, "Where were you?! While my daughters were arguing, you were nowhere to be found."

"I thought they needed their privacy," you murmured softly.

"You shameless girl," she snapped. "You used to your sisters' fight to escape your chores. Get back up there and finish their hair immediately!"

It had been a week since you left the house, which confused you. Stepmother always made you go out to the market at least twice a week. "What about the fruits? Do I need to go and sell them this week?"

She gave you a murderous glare and pulled at your left ear, hard. Pain spreading at the side of your head, you kept your whimpers from spilling out of your mouth. "Are you deaf? Get your dirty, useless self up there."

Her finger releasing your sensitive lobes, you instantly did as told... but as you walked away, she added something that sent chills down your spine.

"You thought I'd send you out again after everything you've done? It's not like you go to the market anyway."