Disclaimer: I do not own iCarly or anything related to it, nor do I own the plot of Walt Disney's Cinderella (or any elements from the original fairy tale). This story is purely for non-profit entertainment.
an iCarly fairy tale
Once upon a time . . .
Samantha Puckett lived a well-privileged, yet simple life. She had never asked for much. All she wanted was to have a roof over her head, a bed to sleep on, and her fair share of meat each day. Her father, a respected aristocrat named Jeremy Puckett, did everything he could to ensure his only daughter's happiness.
Together, the daughter and father lived happily in their estate. The house itself was not too flashy—just big enough to indicate their wealth, but small enough for modesty. Plus, it was only them living there. Sam never wanted maids or nannies; she exhibited great independence from her first day of life. Sam had single-highhandedly converted the extra bedrooms in the house to her own personal playrooms, a place where she could relax and indulge in her favorite cut of ham.
The only thing that Sam did depend on to get through her day was a large portrait of her deceased mother, which her father had hung just next to the vanity in her spacious room. She had never known her mother, a feisty woman named Pam, because she died shortly after giving birth to her. Regardless, Sam felt like a part of her mother lived on in her: her father often spoke about how similar they were personality-wise.
So, in this manner Sam lived in peaceful subtly with her father at her side until her early teen years. When she was thirteen, Jeremy deemed that Sam needed a motherly influence in her life, and so he married Marissa Benson, who also had two daughters from a previous relationship. Upon their first meeting, Sam immediately disliked the woman. She noticed how Marissa looked at her as if she were an insect, and the way she seemed more in love with her father's money than with him.
Marissa's daughters, Carly and Missy, were arguably worse. They were beautiful and had riches as well, but looked plain and awkward when standing next to Sam, their new step-sister. Their jealousy sprouted into a cruel hatred over the years, in which they would taunt and torment their step-sister. What made it more frustrating for them is that Sam remained untouched by their insults; in fact, she would often insult them back.
For Sam, things took a turn for the worst after her father's untimely death. Immediately following his funeral, her step-mother's true nature was revealed. Sam was forced to move out of her much-loved bedroom and into the high tower of the estate, previously used as an attic. All of her proper furniture was given to her step-sisters; the only thing she was allowed to keep was her bed. Naturally, Sam refused to go without a fight. But, even the force of her step-mother and step-sisters were too much for her, plus their nub of a cat.
Sam decided to keep to herself: she spoke only when spoken to, came down from her attic bedroom only when she was summoned (or when she sneaked down to the kitchens in the middle of the night). To resist insulting her step-family, Sam tried to keep her mouth shut most of the time. A normal conversation with her step-family was always something like this:
"Good morning," Sam would say through gritted teeth.
"Take my laundry," they would say, "Then bring up my tea and get on with your chores."
Things were not all bad, though. Sam was strong, as her father had raised her to be, so she refused to let her current life situation ruin her spirit. She had dreams: fantasies about punching her step-sisters in the face, dumping her step-mother's head in a bowl of porridge, then proceeding to tear apart their precious dresses paid by her father's money. Maybe those dreams would come true someday.
She already had an idea of what revenge tasted like: whenever she got the opportunity, she spat in her step-sister's tea before bringing it up to them, or let the cat lick the inside of the bowl she would use for Marissa's soup. Then she would idly clean in their respective rooms until she had the pleasure of witnessing them indulging in her spit or cat saliva.
Over the next two years, Sam had developed a routine, which she would often hum to herself when she was bored: wake up, bathe, feed the cat, cook, clean, endless chores, feed the barn animals, more cooking, more cleaning, pray, sleep, get ham slices in the middle of the night, go back to sleep. Her step-mother had taken all else from her, but she could never take the song from her soul.
Before she even realized she was growing, Sam had turned fifteen, as had Carly and Missy. While they remained pretty, but masked behind jealousy and unkindness, Sam had blossomed into the young woman her father knew she would be. Her feminine features were framed beautifully by her long, blonde locks. Her headstrong spirit burned in her eyes, never to be put out. Even in her scullery maid rags, her thin but curvy frame was immensely attractive. Despite her inner and outer beauty, no man ever fell in love with her, because she was only allowed out of the house to do the farm work.
It was a master plan, Marissa thought to herself, if she has no way out, no reason to leave, then she'll stay. Her own daughters would have everything they deserved, and more.
Overall, any other person would be discouraged if they lived the way Sam Puckett did. All except her. From her attic-bedroom window, she would stare dreamily at the castle a mile or so away. Though she had never been superstitious, it always gave her a feeling that magic would somehow be a part of all of her dreams coming true.