It Seems We Have Time On Our Hands

The morning was something that Ella used to enjoy. But it was getting harder and harder to with each passing day. The maid sat on the edge of her small bed in her small, cramped room deep within the confines of the Keep. There was something to be said about calling something yours, but Ella didn't feel like anything in the place belonged to her, most of all her own room.

A noise disrupted her early morning reverie, a loud single BONG making its way from the various floors of the castle. Ella didn't need to be told who was calling her, the sound made it clear enough. What was once a small bell in the cellar of an old house had now been upgraded to something louder and more unpleasant. It made sense that since the Lady's arrival that she would want something to show her status, something she could flaunt to show how their positions had been reversed. Ella didn't expect anything less at this point.

Although before all of this, she hoped that her expectations would be wrong.

The blonde maiden made her way up the twisting and turning stairs, through the winding halls with their mold and dust and dirt. Ella had tried and tried and tried to make it better, but it was hard to grow flowers in a place with no light and it was even harder to try and keep clean and tidy what was meant to be forboding and forbidden. It was like trying to right an act against nature or punching a wall. It was ultimately useless.

Ella knew this deep down, but sometimes you just had to keep going. And so did she. Before long, she had arrived at Lady Tremaine's chambers. Ella offered a small bow, somewhat flinching at the comment. There was a small argument within whether to acknowledge it or to ignore the remark. After all, she knew that it was just plain cruelty. Tremaine wanted to get a rise out of her. She was looking for Ella to slip up, to say a cruel word back, and in all fairness, Ella had plenty.

But kindness was better than that, and so was she.

"You called, Your Grace?" Ella asked, still somewhat awkwardly in her bow. Tremaine's attempt at cruelty wouldn't win today, and as long as Ella was still civil, she knew that her stepmother could never get the better of her.

Ella let the question hang there in the silence between them, but only for a moment. "It-It's fine, Your Grace," she said, standing up out of her bow. The real answer gnawed inside her. It wasn't fine, it wasn't alright. Everything was terrible and she couldn't do anything but stand there and lie. The blonde knew that the question was leading to something else. Tremaine wasn't really interested in what she had to say or how she found her conditions. Tremaine wanted her to be miserable and so Ella was made to be.

But the blonde maiden stood there and found herself studying her stepmother anew. Ella remembered when her stepmother first entered her life. She was but a child then, so unaware of the things that would come. The wedding was turning a new chapter, it was meant to be a fresh start. But after her father's passing, it seemed like the winter came in and took over with no hope of spring ever re-emerging.

That's how it felt now.

But Ella knew, that there were some flowers that could bloom in winter and that's what she must be. The sun shining and letting hope in where she could find none. But it was harder now - harder but not impossible. Never impossible. Still, those in her orbit would try to make it be. Like Tremaine was doing now. Ella shifted somewhat uncomfortable in the silence. "Did you have an assignment for me, ma'am?" she asked, a note of detached professionalism in her voice. She tried to treat the Lady as somewhat...distant. Even if they were to keep up the pretense of "family", it was still better for Ella to treat Tremaine as a high ranking member of the Thorns and no more. It made things easier and it helped with less questions. Ella waited for Tremaine to give her an answer, wary as to what the Lady had in store.