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Elliot	By : Lollers Category: +1 through F > Cinderella (Disney) > Cinderella (Disney) Views: 3792 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Cinderella(Disney) or any of it's franchise. I also do not make any profit off of these stories. Characters and plot within this story are vaguely based off of the movie, Cinderella.

Chapter List
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The ball couldn't come soon enough.
Elliot was worked harder than usual, keeping up with his daily chores and playing servant for Ms. Tots. Not that he blamed her; no, the kind, twinkle-eyed old lady was hard to hold a grudge against. She was just passionate with what she did; sewing.
By the time noon had rolled around the next day, he had finished his usually duties and had just brought lunch up to Ms. Tots and his step sister's. He was looking forward to relaxing the rest of the day, counting it good fortune that his family was too tied up in their own affairs to pile on the task.
It was too good to be true.
Ms. Tots made good use of him, sending him for thread, ordering him to hold the cloth, lifting the hem slightly for Anastasia so she could work on the trimming. And, when he wasn't assisting the aging seamstress, he was fetching drinks and snacks or working on the early dinner. Soon enough, the dresses were finished. The girls nearly tripped over themselves rushing out the room to fix their hair and makeup.
"Girls," Lady Tremaine chided calmly, coming up the stairs. Her gaze swept over their dresses to Ms. Tots before back again to her daughters; she didn't spare Elliot a glance. Relieved, Elli turned and began to creep away down the hall. "It's about time for the ball to begin. If you don't want to miss your opportunity, make haste."
The girls' shrieks of anxiety and their fleeting steps sounded faintly down the hall as Elliot made his way towards the attic stairs. Turning a corner, he went down the dark corridor, before rounding another and arriving to the foot of the stairs. Quickly, he mounted them, reaching his door. With a quick glance around, he ushered inside.
His mice skittered about the room, startled and nervous. He didn't have a particular fondness for the rodents but Anastasia and Drizella didn't seem to like them and that was always a reason to keep something around. Shutting the door quietly behind him, he leaned against the door. He was really going to do it. He just may be able to pull this off.
Giddiness settled in his stomach as Elliot stared at the mice sniff around his room. His blue eyes trailed from the bed to the window, watching the rapidly darkening sky. He had a full view of the castle from his room; at the current moment, it was lit up as though darkness didn't dare to intrude on the ball.
Straightening his shoulders, he went over to the other side of his bed, before bending down and tugging something from underneath it. A worn knapsack dragged from underneath, bulging with his clothes and mementos from his father. His boots, not once worn by him, settled next to them; he had traded his pocket watch for the used, scuffed boots, in hopes that one day, he would need them for the outside world. Within the estate, he was confined to wearing slippers. Those simply won't do…
Footsteps alerted his ears as he was checking the contents within his bag. Surprised, Elliot had just dropped the bag behind the bed when the door was open. No one ever came to his room.
Lady Tremaine didn't even bother to knock. Opening the door, she swept into the small area with her self-important air, taking in the room from over her smug nose. Elliot felt irritation build in him rapidly. This was his room, the only place that he could truly be alone and in peace. How dare she.
"Elliot, what is with the insolent expression?" She nearly snapped. Nearly. Lady Tremaine would never lose her temper.
The blonde quickly smothered his glare, feeding her an expressionless face; he wouldn't give her the pleasure of seeing how much this little action really bothered him. Eyes twinkling in malice, Lady Tremaine eyed his bed, noting the slightly rumbled spot where his bag had been, before looking over towards the window. "I had forgotten about the view from this room…" she murmured coolly, staring for a moment at the brightly lit castle. Elliot shifted uncomfortably.
"Is there something you need, Madam?" he gritted out, gazing hard at her. She glanced over, lips tightening with displease; she obviously didn't like being rushed. Walking forward, she laid a hand over the back of a scarred wooden chair, running her hand back and forth over the rough surface. Removing it, she rubbed her fingers together, as though expecting it for dust, grimaced, before wiping the rest on a handkerchief she produced from the folds of her robes.
"About the ball tonight," she began in a murmur, going from each object and examining it, as though she were truly interested in the state of the furniture. Of course, Elliot wasn't fooled; his body was tensed in waiting, knowing Lady Tremaine was just dragging out her deed. "It's quite a shame we can't find attire for you. But, as you may know," with this, her lips twitched up into a small, wicked smile. "you're too ill, mentally, to leave the estate; no telling what you may do." Finally, she circled back to the door. Elliot begin to relax a little bit; had she come up there to inform him he wasn't allowed to go to the ball? Was that all? He shoved away the urge to slump in relief.
Reaching the door, she stepped slightly out of the threshold, before turning around. A key was now being held within her hand. Elli's eyes grew wide as he realized what she planned to do. A cold, mirthless laugh escaped her lips. "Oh, you don't think I intend you to have free range of the estate without my presence, do you? So predictable, Elliot." She cooed, slowly opening the door.
Elliot was frozen for a second, before he finally gained sense of his legs. "Madam… Lady Tremaine, madam wait!" The door shut with an audible click. Elliot had just reached the door as he heard the key scraping into the lock, turning it, sealing entry or exit. Elliot's hand still reached out to try the knob; it met resistance. Allowing his hand hit the wood with a smack of frustration, he leaned his forehead against the cool wood, teeth grinding to keep pent up rage from boiling out. He heard the distinct sound of steps follow the stairway down.

The ball was to happen tonight.
Clenching his jaw, Prince Charles paced the large and lavishly decorative room impatiently, stopping every now and then to glare spitefully at the guards near the doors. Oh, he could of easily commanded them to step away; they would kiss his feet if he so wished it. However, due to the chain of command, his guards were ordered by the King, his father, to not let their prince leave the room. As if Charles would escape his duty to the kingdom.
This is ridiculous… he thought venomously, throwing himself in an overstuffed chair with a grunt. He understood his position as heir to the throne very well; he was schooled on it since a young boy. However, he didn't know why the King and his Advisor deemed it necessary for him to choose a bride tonight. In his own opinion, he had plenty of time to decide on marriage; he found there were other issues, more pressing issues, that he should deal with; such as preparing for his coronation. Of course, he knew he couldn't ascend the throne until he had taken on a queen but…
Letting out an angry noise, Charles leaned forward, elbows on his knees. What was even more irritating was that his father thought him one to shirk his duties. Stationing a guard inside and outside his chambers was not a necessity. He would attend the ball, be perfectly charming to the ladies, and dance with a few. Why, if he really had to choose, he'd choose one that was pretty enough and would keep out of his way; he had no intentions on settling down as a content and domestic husband.
Sighing, he heard door open and glanced up; it was time to be fitted for his wardrobe. Casting an arrogant look over the man's own attire, he stood up with a roll of his eyes; what a bother…
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Elliot