Sisters of a Sort (Cinderella)

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Snow sat at her desk, arranging and rearranging papers as she waited, just trying to keep herself occupied. With everything that had been going on lately she had almost forgotten the details of the conversation she had had with her former Stepmother and the foreboding feeling it had left her with, not just for herself but for another young girl, much like she had been ten years ago.

Cinderella was no doubt as innocent and naive as Snow had been, and probably had no reason to doubt the sincerity of her stepmother; Snow hadn’t either until the woman had ordered her heart to be cut out. Luckily the Hunstman had been a good man and had spared her life, and the magic that was used later against her had ultimately failed; Cinderella may not be so lucky.

Shifting the papers again, Snow looked up when she heard a sound at her door. Plastering a warm smile on her face she rose to her feet. “Cinderella, thank you for meeting with me on such short notice.”

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Cinderella wasn't sure what to think, she had a vague idea why Snow wanted to meet with her, but she couldn't quite connect the dots. It was something to do with Eve, but something that didn't entirely make sense, she only hoped that the older woman was planning on explaining it in more detail, and that it didn't mean she was in some sort of trouble.

She didn't think that was the case, not when she saw the smile on Snow White's face, so she hesitantly returned it and stepped into the room.
"Of course, it would have been impolite to refuse," she replied pleasantly, walking over to the teacher and trying to fight back the worry that she'd done something wrong, that she was in some kind of trouble. Even though she'd been here a while now, and even though she had no reason to suspect Snow was doing anything of the sort, there had been so many years when any attention sent her way was cruel, punishment or chores or taunting, it was hard to shake the feeling that it was all going to come back any minute.

Still, she kept her expression pleasant and polite and gentle, and just hoped.

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The poor girl looked so innocent and worried; Snow wasn’t sure whether to feel sympathetic or annoyed.

“Please, take a seat,” Snow said, gesturing to an empty chair across from her. “I promise you have done nothing wrong, my dear. I just wanted to speak with you.” She hoped to set the girl at ease, maybe gain her affection and trust. If she could prove that she was on Cinderella’s side, that this wasn’t some quest for vengeance, that she wasn’t just setting out to turn her against her Stepmother then this should all go down very well. But those were a lot of factors to convince her of and it could all go very wrong very easily.

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The thing with gaining Cinderella's trust was that it really wasn't that difficult to do. As soon as Snow assured her that nothing was wrong, she responded with a sunny smile and took the indicated seat with little fuss. Despite being worried that people were going to hurt her, despite having every reason to be wary of people, she really wasn't. She was naturally trusting and somewhat naive, so as soon as she'd been assured that she wasn't actually in any trouble, she was quite happy to relax. If it was Eve assuring her, perhaps she would have been a little more hesitant to accept the word at face value, but she had no reason to believe that Snow would lie to her. Her previous worry had been more motivated by the idea that she had actually done something wrong, saying she hadn't and punishing her anyway was pure cruelty, and she never expected that of anyone without reason.

"What did you want to speak about?" She asked pleasantly, now that her initial panic was out of the way she was genuinely curious why Snow would have called her here.

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Cinderella’s reservations seemed to melt right before Snow’s eyes, which was good for the teacher but it didn’t bode well for the girl. She trusted too easily, too readily, that much was clear; if Eve had pulled the same stunt on Cinderella as she had tried to pull on Snow then it would surely have been believed.

To be honest, ten years ago Snow would have believed her as well.

“I am not sure if you are aware of this, but we have a sort of... familial connection,” Snow began, choosing her words carefully. “How much do you know about your step-mother’s life before she married your father?”

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A familial connection? They were related? Cinderella couldn't quite put the pieces together until Snow mentioned Eve and her eyes widened.

"Almost nothing," she admitted "I know she must have been married before, to have Anastasia and Drusilla, but..." she shrugged. She'd never asked and Eve had never volunteered the information, it wasn't like they'd ever exactly sat down for a cosy chat about what life had been like before she'd come to live with them. It wasn't like they'd ever exactly sat down for a cosy chat about anything.

"Do you mean, is she...?" she wasn't sure what she was asking. If Snow was her daughter, surely she would have come with her to the house, and anyway Eve didn't nearly seem old enough to have a daughter as grown up as Snow was. Perhaps they were sisters, that seemed a little more likely. Was Snow her aunt?

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Snow watched the realisation come over Cinderella, but the true connection would take more explaining; it wasn’t so cut and dry Eve having her own children, something that came as a surprise to Snow herself.

“She has daughters of her own?” the older woman asked, clearly finding the news shocking. Eve was cold hearted and selfish, not to mention a murderess. The idea of her not only having children of her own but raising them just did not fit the image Snow had of her.

“Once upon a time she was my stepmother as well, long before she came into your life,” she brushed off her surprise and tried to explain. “My father died suspiciously and she dressed me in rags and treated me as a servant instead of the princess that I was.”

Snow watched Cinderella’s expression; the girl was an open book, not a dishonest bone in her body. The similarities between her and Snow’s younger self were uncanny. “I have the distinct feeling that this story is quite similar to your own.”