Cinderella: A Different Tale

Lady Tremaine's POV

I looked at my two daughters—they needed a father. Drizella was only six and Anastasia was three. I soon met a nice—rich—man, a baron. His first wife had also died, but left him childless. When he proposed, I agreed to marry him.

Anastasia looked at Drizella and asked, "Sissy, wha's gonna happen to us?"

"We're moving to live with Stepfather," Drizella explained in a matter of fact tone.

"Girls, behave," I ordered, sighing.

My new husband, Sir Edmund, smiled and said, "Let's go inside, shall we, ladies?"

We hurried inside and a few days later, I discovered a pleasant surprise—I was pregnant with my third child.

"Edmund, I need to tell you something," I began uncertainly.

"What is it?" he asked nervously.

"I'm pregnant," I said, calmly.

"You're pregnant?" he repeated dumbly back to me.

I nodded and he said, "I'm going to be a father again?"

I nodded again and he grinned and hugged me quickly.

Anastasia ran into our room at that second, crying. "What's wrong?" Edmund and I both instantly asked our—currently—youngest daughter.

She looked at me and said, "Mommy, Drizzie's being mean."

I scowled and Edmund said, "I'll deal with Drizella, dearest. Why don't you cheer up Anastasia?"

I nodded and thought for a few moments.

"Anastasia?" I asked.

She looked up at me and I quickly picked her up, wiping away her tears. "Yes, Mommy?" she asked.

"Can you keep a secret from your big sister?" I asked.

She nodded, excitedly, and I said, "Well, you are about to become a big sister—like Drizella."

"I'm gonna be nice to my baby sister," Anastasia declared stubbornly and I smiled.

Edmund returned, leading Drizella and I looked sternly at my oldest child. "Drizella, what have I told you about bullying Anastasia?" I asked, firmly.

"Not ta," Drizella answered.

I nodded and said, "Have you apologized to her?"

Drizella shook her head and then I gave her a look that said, Apologize now young lady.

"I'm sorry, Annie," Drizella said, hugging her younger sister.

"Forgive you, Drizzie," Anastasia replied.

I smiled and I knew in about nine months, I'd have my hands full with a baby, a four-year-old, and a seven-year-old—of course that depended on if the child came on time—Drizella was a month late and Anastasia had been born right on time—who knew if this child would take after Drizella or Anastasia.

Drizella suddenly looked at me and said, "Mom, Stepfather said, you had a secret."

I nodded and said, "You're going to have to help Anastasia be a good big sister, OK, Drizella?"

Drizella grinned and asked, "When I can see my baby brother?"

"Sister!" Anastasia yelled.

"Brother!" Drizella yelled back at Anastasia.

"Girls!" I groaned as Edmund stepped in and said, "Behave yourselves."

They nodded.

Six months later, I felt the familiar pangs of it being time for the child to come. I whimpered and Anastasia asked, "What's wrong?"

"It's too soon," I explained, terrified.

Drizella nodded and raced to get the midwife—she wanted a baby brother—we're going to name the child Edmund if it was a boy—Edmund had died a few months ago.

When she returned, I ordered, "Save the baby."

The midwife nodded—I couldn't lose my youngest.

Anastasia spotted Drizella, who quickly hugged her four-year-old sister.

"Drizella, is Mother and the baby going to be alright?" she asked.

Drizella shrugged and said, "I hope so—Mother seems really worried about this child."

Four hours later, I was handed a screaming baby girl. I gasped and held her against my chest. "My baby girl," I murmured. "Cinderella—her name is Cinderella."

I rocked her and stared out the window—Anastasia, Drizella, and I were the only family little Cinderella had.

Drizella and Anastasia joined me and said, "Girls, come meet your new sister—Cinderella."

Drizella scowled and quickly left the room—as soon as I had said sister.

Anastasia scrambled over and peered at Cinderella. "She's so tiny," Anastasia stated matter-of-factly.

"So were you," I smiled at Anastasia gently.

"I wasn't that small, when I was born, right, Mother?" Anastasia asked.

I nodded. "Why's she so tiny?" Anastasia asked.

"She was born prematurely," I explained gently.

"What's that mean?" Anastasia asked.

"She was born early," I explained.

Anastasia nodded and hugged her little sister gently. "Bye Cinderella," she smiled at her younger sister.

I smiled and I vowed in that instant to protect Cinderella—no matter the cost—it didn't matter if she thought I was overprotective and overbearing—I wasn't going to lose my youngest daughter.