Monrolasia was peaceful, like any town. Everyone is doing their own bussiness, birds chirp and the chipmunks squiggle. The only problem is what your step-mother, Giselle, was to you. In your father's eyes, Giselle was the perfect mother, he was busy doing his own work, fighting whatever beast was out there. So, you didn't tell anyone about your step-mother's cruelness towards you.
You lived in the attic, the windows boarded up with planks, your room messy, filled with old things. You did your chores, swept the floor, cleaned the rugs and windows, dusted the chimney, made breakfast for everyone. Your daily routine was going to the market in town, grabbing the essentials, even talking to Tyson.
Tyson was Malvina's, the queen of this town, son. You two would occasionally talk, you grabbing the essentials what ou needed that day while Tyson followed you around.
"So, you know about the festival tonight? Well, I wanted to ask you if you would want to go with me there," Tyson asked with a hesitating tone, following you around the market.
You stopped once you reached a flower stand, turning around and facing him, holding your basket infront of you, "I mean, I would love to. But, I never danced before," you answered, putting a lock of your hair behind your ear.
"I can teach you at the festival, and I would make sure that you won't stand on my feet," he joked, a light laugh escaping his mouth.
The both of you weren't known of the fact that Giselle was just standing a few feet away from you, eaves-dropping. She only left once she got the important information.
Giselle entered the attic- your bedroom, not bothering to knock. Walking right past you, who was looking through the flowers you just picked from the garden.
"These flowers are so beautiful, step-mother. These fit so well with my dress, I'm so excited about the festival and-"
"I'm sorry, dear. But you still have so much chores to do, you know?"
Giselle interrupted you, admiring herself for a few moments in your mirror, until she turned around to look at you, watching as your face turned into confusion.
You tried to say something, but she was faster, "The rug downstairs is so...dusty, the chimney needs to be cleaned, the windows are dirty. It's such filthy business," she wiped her hands on her clothing as if to emphasize her statement.
"But, can't I do those tomorrow? I promised Tyson that I would be there," you almost whispered, dissapointment growing in your voice, looking at the ground.
Giselle's hand went onto her chest as if she felt touched, "Oh, Tyson. Is he a handsome boy?" You nodded at her question, "too bad, dear. I don't even know why he didn't pick someone better, there are other girls in town who are so much better," she gloated, her tone meant it clear, she was belittling you as much as possible just so you would stay home.