Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight or any of the characters in this story. I do not own this idea, either. It is based very loosely off of a Fairytale which goes by numerous names. Only the basic plot was taken, though, seeing as how everything else is from my own imagination.

"You have the most beautiful voice, Bella!" I blushed at my father's compliment, a big grin making its way onto my face. My father was hardly ever around, and when he was around he was always so busy. He never usually complimented me, and when he did it was something I got incredibly excited about. I had always felt like a failure. I just couldn't live up to my mother -- my beautiful, perfect, and unfortunately, dead mother. People claimed that my mother was a Goddess sent down to earth, for she was beautiful, graceful, talked just the right amount, talented in everything a woman should be and did... well, everything correctly.

I was the exact opposite.

I was plain, probably the clumsiest girl you would ever meet, talked way too much and was often told to be quiet, couldn't paint, dance or play any instruments without anyone within one hundred yards covering their ears. I blushed way too much, stuttered when confronted by a handsome man, stranger or not and constantly made a fool of myself and my father. The only thing I had inherited from my mother was her talent to sing, but I was not as good as my mother had been. My mother's voice had been known to be like an angel, luring any man nearby to her. My voice was just nice.

I had gotten too much of my father in me.

My father had never gotten over her death. My mother had died in childbirth, and occasionally I wondered if my father blamed me for it. I saw how he examined me, his small beady eyes squinting at me, searching for something that resembled my mother. When he couldn't find anything but my voice, he had me perform at every ball we went to. I assumed he was trying to show me off to everyone else, to try and claim that I was just like her; to try and pretend I was someone he could be proud of.

My mother, Renee, had been someone everyone, whether they knew her or not, had worshiped. A war had been fought between my kingdom and this other kingdom. My father, Charlie, had won, killing the other king in the process. His son, King James, took over after him. Apparently, James had also lusted after my mother, but had not gone to war once more over it. It was rumored James was a vampire, but I thought that was ridiculous. It was also rumored that the Cullen's, another royal family, were vampires and the Black's, a royal family, werewolves. I knew otherwise.

Mythical creatures did not exist.

"Will I be performing tonight?" My voice was quiet, trying not to startle my father. Even if he spoke first, loud voices made him jump. I saw my music teacher, who I had just been practicing with, examining my father with lust evident in her eyes. She wasn't lusting for my father really, though. He wasn't that good looking of a man, if I was going to be honest. She was, however, lusting after the money and power my father held. Often, people presumed that those with money and power were attractive, and so fooled themselves into believing such.

"Of course, of course!" My father laughed. "Get dressed up real nice, dear. People from all of the other kingdoms will be coming." He reached over to grab my chin, tilting my head upwards so I was looking into his eyes. "You'll be the prettiest girl there, Bells." He smiled warmly, releasing my chin to reach over and pat my head lightly. A blush filled my cheeks; that was nothing unusual and I grinned once more. So he thought I was pretty? I would never be the perfection my mother had been, but perhaps there was still a chance I could make him proud of me.

He turned to walk away, but I reached out, laying my hand on his upper arm. It was a bold move of me to do, considering we hardly ever conversed. And when they did, it was my father instructing me to do this or do that. I was most obedient when it came towards his requests, and I always struggled to never speak unless spoken to around him. "Father, may I ask you something?" My father was quiet for a moment, before he turned back around to face me.

"Of course, Bells. What is troubling you?" To my relief, he didn't seem upset about my boldness; amused, in a way.

"I was wondering, father, if you planned to search for a wife at this ball." I saw the corner of his lips tugging now, his eyebrows knitting together as stress overwhelmed him. His forehead creased as he brought his arms up to cover his chest, his stance that of defensive. He didn't seem mad, which was rather odd, just upset and in deep contemplation. He appeared sad, in a way. I knew he was reluctant to take a bride, but he needed to have another child with a wife; a son. Being a female, I couldn't take over the kingdom, for those around me claimed that would lead to disaster. That would mean that a foreign king – my husband, would have to rule, and no one wished for that. My only job in life, as I was often instructed, was to marry a nice prince or king and go live in their kingdom with them.

"Yes." He sighed, his shoulders heaving downwards as he dropped his arms. They hung limp at his side. The sadness only lasted a moment, before his eyes brightened up and a small smile tugged on the corner of his lips. "I suppose I have to. And do you plan to search for a husband, my dear?" I frowned at that, and he grinned at my reaction. I loved my kingdom, my father and everything else here. I didn't want to leave it.

I paused for a moment before answering. "If you would like me to, father."

He nodded. "Yes, Bella. You are at the age where you must start considering who to marry." He patted my head once more. "Tell me if you find anyone that interests you." And just like that he was gone, leaving me with my lustful music teacher. I quickly excused myself, claiming that I had a head ache. I saw my teacher's lips purse in irritation, but she didn't say anything else. You just didn't argue with royalty.

The ball wasn't for another five or six hours, but I figured it was time to start getting ready. I wanted to look extra nice if all the kings and queens and some of their people were going to be there. I summoned some maids, telling them that it was time to get ready. One of them, I had no idea what her name was, looked so proud of me. She'd been a friend of my nurse maid, so she must have watched me grow up. I sent her a warm smile.

There were some maids who were more talented than my ladies in waiting, and these maids consisted of those who knew how to do make-up, dress properly and all of that galore. I trusted them to care for me when it came towards balls and feasts and anything else I had to get dressed up with. I normally refused to do anything too extravagant, however. I wasn't one that loved dressing up.

Entering the bathroom, I held my arms out to my sides, feeling a maid's nimble fingers undoing my dress. It was a simple dress, and I could have done it myself, but father said that is just not what princesses do. I didn't want to disappoint him, so I always did things how I was supposed to. The dress slipped off of me and I reached up, pulling my hair down. Stepping into the warm bath that a maid had prepared, I dismissed them with a wave of my hand, wanting to be by myself.

I leaned my head back, the steam from the hot water rising up into the air. I watched it for a moment, before grabbing a bar of soap and starting to scrub. For once, I wanted to wash myself. I hadn't done that in a while. The maids usually washed me, but I didn't like when they did that. I just disliked being touched by other people, even when the gesture was innocent.

I sat there in the bath for a while, scrubbing at my skin, and spots of it were turning red. I wanted to look extra clean for the ball and impress all the men, and therefore impress father. Sure, I got dressed up nice and pretty and wore some make-up to every ball, but I never went full out. (And I never really put much effort into it. Getting ready was always a last minute thing, much to the disappointment of those around me.) Well, tonight I wanted to look like a grown up if I was to try and find my future husband. I didn't want to be a child that everyone thought looked adorable. (Or annoying, if you chose to look at it that way, I presumed.)

There was a quiet knocking on the door, and I looked up.

"Yes?"

"My lady, is there anything you need help with?" It was a maid, sounding nervous as can be. She must be worried I couldn't even bathe myself properly. I exhaled soundly, knowing she could hear me loud and clear. It was rather irksome that they thought me so immobile that I could not wash my entity.

"I'll need some help washing my hair." And just like that, two of the maids walked in, assuming that meant I had summoned them, one carrying an empty bucket. She filled it up with water while the other maid scrubbed my hair with shampoo, her fingers scratching my head. They seemed to want me to be extra clean as well, and I sent them both a smile. It was nice, knowing that the maids cared that I would like nice at the ball. (Or maybe they just didn't want me to be angry with lack of effort from them. That option seemed much, much more realistic, considering the smile they returned was half-hearted.)

Once they were finished, I rose up from out of the water, immediately being dried off by the maids. They led me back into my room, a cloth around me to hide my nudity. I sat down in a chair, drying my body while I picked up my hairbrush. One maid stepped forward to help me dry off, or perhaps help me brush my hair, but I shot her a glare – I was not incapable of drying myself or brushing my hair, either. One hundred strokes to my hair; that is what I was taught, anyway. I began stroking it, counting it aloud. A maid offered to do it for me, but I declined.

However, I was in need of my outfit.

"Go fetch my petite coat, dress and corset." I paused hesitantly here, shooting a glance back at them. "Please." One maid scurried off to grab them, arriving a minute later with them in her hands. I didn't stop my brushing to thank her in fear I'd lose count of how many strokes I had done. "We should do the make-up first, that way I don't get anything on my dress." The maids scurried around, and I wasn't surprised to find that three more maids had joined them.

They did my make-up, applying it carefully. They stopped once I informed them that I was pleased with the results, and it was on to the dress. I stood up, holding my arms out to the side as they gathered my outfit up once more. "Be sure to tie the corset as tightly as possible," I reminded them. People seemed to prefer women whose corsets were tied tightly, regardless of how skinny they were naturally.

They tied it tightly, it piercing into the sides of my entity and making me light headed. I blamed that on the lack of oxygen it gave me. I took a couple of deep, heaving breathes, my chest moving up and down in rapid motions as I did so. "This is," I gasped out, "very tight."

I could see the maids suppressing their laughing, and so I laughed, aware of how ridiculous I must have sounded. The corset was loosened slightly, just enough so that I could breathe properly without it sounding like I had a wheeze in my chest.

I placed my dress on next, twirling around so the skirts flew outwards. I smiled, watching my skirt fall back down once I stopped. It amused me, for no apparent reason, honestly.

Next was my hair. One of my maids had this little object which she'd wrap my hair around for a while, which caused it to curl into a banana curl. I had worn them all last night, so now my usually stick straight hair was curly. I thought it looked nice, but apparently it wasn't good enough. They picked my hair up, placing it in a bun on top of my head. I had no doubt in my mind it looked lovely, but regardless, I frowned. Did I curl my hair for nothing? And besides, I happened to like wearing my hair down.

One of the maids sighed, for she could read the distress on my features, I assumed, before she reached up, bringing some of the curls down to frame my face. That was better, at least.

They started shuffling through my jewelry, each of them asking their own question. What did I want to wear; diamonds, sapphires or perhaps some rubies? Would a big necklace be fine, or would you rather not the distraction? I ignored them, choosing to glance up at the ceiling instead. They could do what they wanted. My sense of fashion was simply atrocious and would only end up ruining how I looked.

There was a knock on the door, and immediately the maids went silent.

"Who is it?" I called out, and my father's voice answered me.

"It's me! Open up, poppet. I have a present for you." My father sounded excited, and I smiled in return, my previous grin having faded. I knew what he had gotten me. Every night before a ball, he got me a porcelain doll. I assumed it was because he was trying to convince himself I was still a child, still his little angel. (Well, that's what I told myself, anyway. The more likely answer was that he was reminding me that he was aware I actually existed.) I stood, lifting up my skirts to open the door.

The maids had risen as well, prepared to answer the door for me. I ignored them. They were as persistent in doing everything for me as my ladies in waiting, and usually I liked that. But I was perfectly capable of greeting my father. I passed by a mirror, shooting a glance at it before averting my eyes to the door. That lasted only a moment before my eyes flew back to the mirror, shock over taking common sense.

Was that me? I seemed to... glow. I looked beautiful. I looked attractive. I looked, well, perfect. I looked... just like my mother. I frowned. I didn't want my reflection to be of my mother – I was my own person. But what I wanted meant nothing, I supposed, when it came towards Mother Nature and the genetics she had given me.

I grabbed a nearby cloak and tossed it over my form, whether to hide what I looked like from my father or myself, I wasn't sure.

"Father!" I cried, pretending to be surprised, deciding to get back to the matter at hand. I knew he would be coming. "What a pleasant surprise." I opened the door, gesturing for him to come in. I curtseyed, keeping myself covered. I heard the maids behind me follow suit, only they would curtsey much lower than I had to prevent from offending him. He chuckled, hiding something behind his back. He entered the room, keeping the item hidden from view. I lifted my skirts once more, sitting down on the edge of my bed, my hands folded in my lap. "Shall I close my eyes as usual, father?" I didn't wait for his answer, closing my eyes as I knew he wanted me to.

He laughed, and it sounded as if he were bending down so he was eye level with me. He placed something cold in my lap, and I opened my eyes. Of course, there on my lap lay a beautiful doll, its resemblance strikingly similar to my mothers. I reached out one finger to touch its pale skin. It was as cold as ice. I brought my hand up to stroke its long dark hair, a mistiness forming in my eyes. While my father was often too busy for me, I loved him for the simple things such as this. I reached over to wrap my arms around his neck, leaning my head against his shoulder.

"Thank you," I whispered. He wrapped his arm around my shoulder, squeezing it tightly, before pulling back. He grabbed my chin, tilting it upwards.

"You're welcome. Now take that ridiculous cloak off and show me what you look like, poppet. I bet you look like a little angel." I giggled, as embarrassing as it was, in response to his words. I just adored receiving compliments from him, for it was not very often I got them. I stood up and he followed suit as I shrugged the cloak off, the doll still clutched tightly in my hand. I giggled again, twirling around for him to see, my skirts fluttering around.

"Do you like it?" I spun around once more simply for the sake of spinning before glancing at his face. His reaction was not what I expected.

His expression was completely blank, but his hands were shaking. He was staring at me, and something seemed to change with how he was looking at me. I took a nervous step back, leaning against my bed. Something about it unnerved me. I took a glance towards the maids – they bore the same nervous expression I did, the younger ones cowering into the older ones. I wish I had someone to hide behind.

His lips parted and he muttered something, but I was surely mistaken in what I heard. It appeared like he said Renee.

"Father, are you well?"

That seemed to snap him out of his daze. He brought his hand to touch his temple, shaking his head slightly. He let out a loose breath, his eyes downcast.

"Yes. I-I'm just fine, poppet." He paused. "I apologize if I seemed otherwise."

I slowly nodded my head. "It's quite fine, father."

And just like that, he bowed, excusing himself from my presence. I closed my eyes once he was gone, my lips pursing together. What was that about? I shuddered, before turning back around to my bed. Dolls were piled on the top of my bed, covering my pillow and some of my blanket. Normally, I tossed them to the side when I went to bed, and the maids or my ladies in waiting put them back nice and neat when I woke up.

I placed my newest doll, who I decided to name Renee after my mother, on top of the pile.

"Come, now, I need to get my shoes on. The ball is to start soon!" I hadn't realized until just then how quickly the time had flown by.

It didn't take much longer until I was done. I could hear the doors to the castle opening and closing, numerous groups of miscellaneous lords and such pilling in. I was to make a dramatic entrance with my father. We did this every ball to call attention to us, well, namely him, since my father was hosting the ball. He would meet me by the top of the stairs and we would walk down together. I glanced down at my feet, praying silently I wouldn't trip and fall flat on my face.

That would be my luck.

That would be embarrassing.

Not that it hasn't happened before.

I met my father by the top stairs, his gaze locked firmly on me.

"You look beautiful."

It took a moment, but I smiled hesitantly, taking his extended arm.

We descended down the stairs, and abruptly the ball room went quiet. That was odd. Usually the room went quieter when we went down the stairs out of respect, but never did the entire room go quiet, for many preferred to talk amongst themselves instead of take note of those hosting this gathering.

It was just then I realized all of their eyes were locked on me.

I could tell by their expressions, the mixture of terror and joy on their faces that they believed, for just one moment that my mother was back. They never noticed the similarities between my mother and me. I never bothered with looking nice, I never did my hair, my clothes tended to be wrinkled – I just didn't care. Who was to judge me but the maids and my father? And only father among those who inhabited my residence cared even a bit for my appearance.

It took a minute before the talking started up again, them realizing that it was not Renee, but her daughter.

"Save the first dance for me, then, poppet? I would appreciate it." I heard my father's quiet voice in my ear. I nodded my head, although I was unsure as to why he asked. I always saved the first dance for him regardless. I looked up at him, grinning, and nodded my head once more to reassure him. When he was ready to dance, he would come fetch me. For now, however, he had to go talk with some of the other people here. It was tradition as the host.

I moved slowly to the side, not wanting to interfere with the dancers. I wrapped my arms around myself, ignoring the glances the men sent my way. So far, none dared to approach me. Maybe it was the glares I sent them on instinct or my body language as I tried to move my body away from their view, but none attempted to ask me to dance at that moment. Except for one guy.

"Would you care to dance?" It was a man, a beautiful man that I could not identify. With bronze hair, pale skin and golden eyes with circles under them, you wouldn't think this boy would be good looking.

He must have been the best looking man I had ever laid my eyes on.

He was handsome in a way that could lead to war; if not for the fact he was a noble and would only marry who he pleased or who his parents appointed he marry. I tried to force myself to smile at this God like man, but I was still too awe-struck. The man appeared uncomfortable, and he kept glancing backwards at another big, burly man who was grinning foolishly, his eyes locked on us. He was impossibly beautiful well.

"I apologize," I began, regaining my focus. I cleared my throat. "But I have promised my first dance to my father, and afterwards, I am going to sing." I gestured around the room. "For those who are attending the ball, but after that, if you would still like to dance, I would love to." The boy appeared relieved and he sent a smug glance back towards the big man. The big one was frowning, almost as if he were disappointed with something.

"Of course," he agreed. His voice was like, well, velvet, I noted. It was soft and smooth and incredibly enticing. I found myself taking a step forward on instinct, wanting to be near this God like man. His breath caught in his throat, his eyes widening. I saw a short, beautiful, petite girl with black hair stop her dancing, her head whipping around to stare at the man in front of me. She said nothing, but she did not move from her frozen stance.

"And you are?" I questioned. I was curious as to see what kingdom he came from, and why I couldn't recall him ever coming to our balls before.

"Edward. Edward Cullen."

That explained it. Their kingdom and my own were not friends at all. I wasn't sure why, exactly. My father refused to tell me. Perhaps it was because he started a war over a woman, simply because she was beautiful… and talented. And, well... perfect. But still, it was not right to start a war over a woman. I was tempted to ask him why our families despised each other, but that might ruin any chance of friendship I had with this man. If he was going to ignore the fact our families hated each other, so would I; for now, anyway.

"And you are Isabella Swan, correct?" I had no idea why he asked me that. I knew that he knew my name.

"That is correct, but please, do call me Bella." I clasped my hands together. He frowned, the corner of his lips tugging down.

"But Isabella is your given name," he slowly stated. He talked to me as if I were stupid.

"I'm aware." I was slightly annoyed now. "But I prefer to be called Bella. Isabella is just too long. I don't need any of that Isa stuff."

Despite the fact I was being the exact opposite of proper, for I wasn't really good at acting like I was supposed to, I could tell he was trying to hold back his laugher. Finally, some laughter escaped his lips, his hand reaching out to grab his stomach.

"Is there some kind of joke I'm missing?" The amused sound of my father's voice reached my ears and I whipped around to face him.

"Father!" I exclaimed.

"Hello, Bells." His head bent down, kissing my cheek, a warm blush filling my cheeks as it always did. I wondered if he could feel the warmth radiating from my cheek. "Are you ready for our dance? Don't worry, I'll do my best to not let you trip." He was teasing me, and I giggled while my cheeks flushed an even brighter red. I took his arm, allowing him to lead me away. I turned to wave goodbye to Edward, the fact my father had ignored his existence not escaping my notice.

Edward waved back.

We started dancing, his eyes on me the entire time and mine on my feet, trying to make sure I didn't trip over my own dress. For once, he didn't tease me or scold me about my lack of grace. The song was long, but I smiled the entire time, my cheeks starting to hurt. I even began to lose feeling in them, but I felt like the smile was glued to my face. I loved receiving attention from my father, and the night of the Balls, attention was always given.

We twirled around the room, people moving out of our way so we could dance where we pleased. I saw a beautiful blond; she was as pulchritudinous as my mother had been, out of the corner of my eye. She looked like Edward in a way, with pale skin and golden eyes with dark circles under them. These poor people – did they never get sleep? Not to mention she was also as incredibly beautiful as Edward. She was glaring at me, a nasty scowl on her face. There was an expression her face I could identify, something I often saw on those poorer then myself.

Jealousy.

I exhaled, lowering my eyes. My father brought his face down so his lips were next to my ear. "You look beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. No words can express it." He sighed. "Just like your mother. Do you remember what people use to say about your mother?" His voice was quiet, his lips still at my ear. I nodded my head mutely, too afraid to speak. I wasn't sure what I was afraid of.

"What was it, then?" He seemed amused, judging by his tone. I frowned. Why must I say it? I knew that he knew it.

"That she put the most beautiful flower to shame… and other stuff like that."

I was fairly certain that was the answer he was looking for.

He chuckled, the sound of it low and deep. "Good girl. Do you know what I think?" I shook my head no, wanting to back up from his tight grip. But he held firm, so I didn't bother. I didn't want to offend him, as well. The wrath of my father was not something anyone would even dream of anticipating, even if they were masochistic. "I think you put your mother to shame. While she had many qualities that you don't have, such as her grace, you beat her in intelligence. It is this that makes you so attractive. You can see, just by looking at you or talking to you, that you think for yourself. Your mother was intelligent in things such as painting and playing music, but you... you have a mind of your own."

He pulled his head back, and I stopped dancing. He stopped as well, staring at me, waiting for my response. I didn't respond, just stared at him in shock. Was he jesting around with me? I could tell by his expression he wasn't just saying that to make me feel better, yet I shook my head, taking a step backwards. Luckily for me, the song had ended, so I no longer had a duty to dance with him anymore. One song was enough.

He released my arms, and I noticed they were red from his tight grip. I took another step backwards, curtsying to him. "Have a pleasant night, father. It is time for me to sing." I lifted my skirts, hurrying away from him at a quick pace. He watched me go, but didn't follow after me. I stepped up onto the stage that was in the room, the band patiently waiting for me. I smiled, ignoring them as they instructed me what to sing. I already knew the drill.

I stepped into the middle of the state, one man introducing me to the crowd. They clapped politely before I began to sing, my thoughts elsewhere. I knew my voice was good like my mothers, although not as good, but was I really as pretty? I doubted it. I mean, no one ever commented on my beauty unless I was dressed up. Men never showed interest unless I was dressed up. Surely beauty didn't come from how you dressed and did your make-up?

Perhaps no one ever commented on my beauty because all I ever saw was my father and the castle help. I was a tad bit on the sheltered side. Perhaps they were use to me. Yet my father said that people had never grown tired of my mother's beauty. What if, when I was not dressed up, I was plain in comparison to how they remembered my mother? My beautiful, perfect, always dressed like this mother. That would make sense, I figured. That explanation would have to work for now.

I stopped my singing, the song done. The crowd clapped loudly, pleased with my performance. I smiled. Singing was something I always took pleasure in and something I could be proud of. And yet, there were some people who were not clapping, but instead just staring at me, their expressions blank. I knew that look well enough by good.

She did well, but her mother would have done so much better.

I was sure that was what they were thinking.

I stepped off of the stage, an arm immediately being held out to me.

"I believe you promised me a dance."

It was the Cullen boy. I smiled, a blush filling my cheeks again as I took his arm. Should I warn him about my not so gracefulness? I considered this for a moment before deciding not to. He might then decide he didn't want his feet trampled, so he wouldn't dance with me. I frowned at the thought. For some reason, I really wanted to dance with this man. Maybe it was because he was so attractive – who could resist him?

"Your performance was more than satisfactory," said Edward. He actually seemed interested in me now, something he hadn't really seemed the time before.

"Thanks! It's not actually my best, because I have a lot of my mind, so it took away some of my concentration." Father taught me not to talk a lot and to only talk when spoken to, but I always broke this rule. I just couldn't help myself. He laughed.

"Oh, really? And what might you be thinking about that had you less distracted? You fooled me, though. You were wonderful." At the word thinking, he seemed slightly distracted. I decided to just accept the compliment instead of insisting it wasn't that great. I had learned from my nurse many years ago to never refuse a compliment, for then it appeared that I was fishing for more.

"I was thinking about my mother and father. How they must of danced at this ball." He let out a quiet "ahhh" and his face twisted into an expression of understanding. I looked away, not wanting his pity. "Please, do not give me your pity." Instead of being offended like most men would have been, he tossed his head back and laughed.

"No pity to you, then." He smiled, teasing me slightly. "May I offer you my understanding, though? I do understand that it must be painful, never having known your mother." We paused in our dancing. I stared down at the ground, not able to meet this man's smoldering golden eyes. I'm afraid I'd make a fool of myself if I did that. So instead I nodded my head, yanking my arms back from his grasp.

And I left him standing there, my stomach fluttering slightly. No way could that male be true. He was just so... so perfect.

Like my mother had been.

I shuddered, quietly exiting the ball room. I usually left early, and father never noticed. No one ever noticed. But this time I could feel numerous gazes of people on my back, and I couldn't help but wish my father's gaze was amongst them. For once, it would be nice if he noticed me, for me. I said nothing, but once I was out of their view I lifted up my skirts, running to my room. My heels tapped against the floor, the sound bounding against the walls throughout the hallway. I remembered the words my father said, the odd way he eyed me. As if I was another person entirely.

I yanked the door to my room open, slamming it shut behind me as I tossed myself onto my bed. I grabbed my newest doll, Renee, and it was then that I knew I looked just like my mother. And for the first time ever, I wished I looked like anyone but her.

Authors Note: So here is the deal. Leave me honest reviews, but don't tell me how much you hate this plot or anything of that sort. It's a fairytale. I'm doing my very best to keep this story realistic, but keep in mind this is an AU. I'm changing things around, like whom the kings are and what not for the sake of the story. (And obviously, some characters like Charlie, will be OOC) Next chapter, things are going to get interesting.

Thanks for reading. Please review. Cookies to those who do!

XOXO

P.S: Should I change my chapter length? Such as making them shorter or longer?