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You must return home by the last stroke of midnight because the magic will be gone - and everything will return to what it was.

Cinderella has never run so fast and so far in her life. She knows she has to get out of the palace before Kit (the prince, she corrects herself) finds out that all of this is a farce. She's even less than a simple country girl, she's a servant, and her dress is rags and her servants are animals. Her coach is a pumpkin. There's no way he can see all of that, he'd never understand.

Her mother had told her that there were some who would never understand the magic in the world around them and Cinderella has found that to be true. Her stepmother and stepsisters, for example, would never consider Gus and her other mice friends to be just as individual and precious as they are. Cinderella is certain they see them as vermin; though, really, they have more warmth and kindness in their tiny bodies than her stepfamily has all together.

Still, she cannot fault them. It is their nature and they are not likely to change. All she can do is show them kindness and love and hope that they can recognize it for what it is; they are, after all, everything she has left in the world. Them, and the house, and she promised to love the house for her mother and father. She'll always keep that promise.

Her heart is in her throat as it seems like the prince and his men are going to catch up to her and one of her glass slippers slides off her feet, tumbling down the palace steps. She does not dare go back for it - if she halts even for a moment, she won't have enough time to get home before all of the magic fades away. She doesn't know if it's instant or if it takes a little while and Cinderella is not entirely sure she wants to find out until she's clear and away and can cherish the memory on her own all alone. This is not something she wants to share with family. This is something she wants just for herself, one of the few things she's ever wanted to keep secret and safe.

She makes her way down to the end of the road where her carriage is and tugs open the door, sliding inside just as her footmen start growing tails and turning a peculiar shade of green. It's best if they begin this madcap run now before the carriage loses its wheels.

Except...the coach is gone. Gone are the luxurious seats and they haven't been replaced by pumpkin pulp, as she'd expect. Instead, she's settled on a fairly plump couch upholstered in velvet and surrounded by people coming and going. Their manner of dress is strange and as her beautiful blue confection of a gown melts away into soft and tattered pink, Cinderella isn't sure why this place hasn't faded away too. Why is she not back in her attic, surrounded by mice? Where is the screeching of her stepmother and stepsisters? The ringing of the bells?

She hears only one bell, too high and too tinny to be the servant's bell and Cinderella lifts her head to see that there's a wide desk and someone standing behind it. Perhaps he has answers. She makes her way toward him but stumbles, still only wearing the one shoe, and finds herself sprawled on the carpeted floor.

There's a pair of shoes in front of her and it's the shoes she addresses, rather than the person's face.

"Could I trouble you to help me up? I seem to have lost a shoe and it's made me clumsy."

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The shoes in question are old boots, their leather worn but clearly of good quality, and their cut most definitely elegant, if you happened to live in 17th century France. They belong to a Musketeer, which means that they belong to a man with a definite streak for helping out damsels in distress (much as they also belong to a man with a definite streak for damsels able to put him in distress).

"Of course," Porthos answers immediately, crouching down to hold his hand out to the unfortunate girl sprawled on the floor. He takes in the state of her ripped pink dress, and the fact that she is only wearing one shoe, and it seems to be made of glass.

Probably not someone whose world is anything like his, but that's never stopped him before.

"Come on," he urges her gently, helping her get back on her feet with a small smile, kindness glinting in dark eyes despite the scar that crosses over his left eye.

Kindness is something that Cinderella has always appreciated in her life and she takes his hand and offers a wide smile of her own. At least someone here is willing to show her a smile and offer a hand. It's more than she's gotten from some in her life.

"Thank you, sir. I find myself out of sorts and, apparently, completely lost. Where am I?"

"You might want to sit down before I answer your question," Porthos tells her honestly, compassion stealing over his face as he realises that she is new here. He remembers his confusion, upon arrival. He's glad her hand is still in his gloved one, so he can offer to escort her to a nearby settee, gesturing towards it with his free hand in a suggestion to go and have a seat. "Although walking might be easier barefooted," he advises her, warm humour threaded into his voice.

"The glass slippers are rather comfortable but it is easier when you have two of them," Cinderella says, laughing lightly. She sits on the settee and turns to look at him, eager to hear what he has to say.

"All right, so, where are we? What is this place?"

Porthos is honestly not sure how glass slippers could ever be comfortable, never mind practical (what if they shattered?), but he only gives her a warm smile at that statement, if only because of her laugh. It was a very nice laugh.

"This is going to sound quite made," he prefaces, as he sits on the other side of the settee, at a respectable distance from her. He's taking in the state of her dress, and glad to find that whatever has happened to it does not seem to have distressed her over much. That means that he can explain, rather than urgently inquire after her well-being, and what he might do to help. "This is a hotel that stands between worlds. You've walked through a door and found yourself here, I assume? That is the way it happens to all of us."

"You mean, like magic?" Hotel isn't a word that Cinderella is familiar with but the idea of walking through a door to another world sounds very much like the magic her mother described to her when she was small. She thinks it's no more strange than fairy godmothers or understanding the speech of tiny mice and both of those things are commonplace for her.

"Is this place a place created by magic?"

"I think it's bound to be, yes," Porthos confirms with a nod. He doesn't have a better explanation than that, although this is beyond everything he imagined magic capable of. "But it's a safe place," he adds, because he never expects anything to do with magic to be safe. "Or it has been so far, and I've been here on and off for a few months."

Safety is something that never crosses Cinderella's mind. She's always been safe in her little village and she's never experienced anything unsafe. She has experienced unkindness, of course, but never any true threats to her safety.

"That's a comfort," she says gently. "I should like to be somewhere safe, if I cannot be at home. Is there a king, or anything? Or a market? How do we get food and beds and all those sorts of things? I'm a hard worker."

"They don't actually make you pay for a room," Porthos answered, a small smile twitching his lips at the pragmatism of her reaction. Taking it in stride and ready to do what it takes to get by; that's the only way to respond to this place, if you ask him. "And there's a place they call the Bistro, the food on display's free."

"Free food? You don't have to work for it?" Cinderella can't remember the last time she was actually full; Madame prefers to have her eat long after they've cleared away every morsel and what little bit she gets, she shares with her friends. It's been a long time since she's eaten a full meal that's still warm.

"Oh, but this is a wondrous place! I promise to repay everything I incur in expenses. I always pay my debts."

Porthos can't help but smile at the warmth with which she greets the news. "I'm sure they can find you work if you really want. This place is huge."

"Oh, I would feel terrible about not helping," Cinderella agrees. While she doesn't want to toil for no benefit as she once did for her stepmother, she does want to earn her keep. There is no sense in not working for a fair meal and a roof over her head.

"But perhaps after I've had a little while to rest, right?"

"Of course," Porthos agrees warmly, and rises, offering her his arm. "If you'll allow me, I'll take you to the - the 'front desk'. It's where they'll sort out your room. You'll see, they're very helpful."

Cinderella nods. "Yes, that would be perfect. I have to thank you for all your kindness as soon as I get on my feet again." She's already making plans in that direction, just as soon as she has learned enough about this new place to eke out a living.

"You've been so kind to me."

"It's been my pleasure," Porthos assures her, and starts to lead her in the direction of the lobby when she takes his arm. "You're not a King's Musketeer if you don't help a damsel in distress." Although he has to admit that she has shown extremely little distress for someone just come to the hotel. Perhaps magic is common enough in her world that she barely blinks at it anymore.

"And I've terrible manners," he suddenly states, as he realises he hasn't yet introduced himself. "I'm Porthos, of the King's Musketeers," he tells her with a bow of his head, since they're walking.

"You have wonderful manners, Porthos, please don't think that you've behaved poorly. I am Cinderella."

Cinderella has gotten to used to the name that it comes naturally to her, more naturally than Ella does anymore. "The King's Musketeers? Which king is this?"

"King Louis, of France," Porthos answers, and then thinks to add, "in the year 1631." She is not from his world or from his time, he believes, on account of her easy acceptance of magic as the reason behind her presence here. Or maybe she is from neither. "Where is it that you call home, Cinderella?"

"Oh, my father has traveled to France!" Cinderella says, excited that she has something in common with this chivalrous man who has taken it upon himself to aid her. "I am from a small country. We are not so far from France, though nothing as grand as that fine place. I hope I can go there someday."

"Look me up, if you ever make it to Paris," Porthos offers with a warm smile. Her lack of surprise at the year he has stated makes him assume that it is not so far from her own, or perhaps, even, the same. "I'll show you around, although I can't promise accommodation as grand as you'll find here."

"That is all right. I am only one country girl. I do not need anything too fine, I wouldn't know what to do with it," Cinderella says, laughing lightly. "I think the best things, sometimes, are the simplest ones. A clean gown, a warm bowl of stew. A kind word? Those things cost very little but they mean the world to me."

"That's a good philosophy," Porthos agrees warmly. He likes this girl, no doubt there. "Wait until you've experienced showers and you can add those to the list, trust me." He slows down as they reach the lobby. "This is the front desk," he shows her. "They'll sort you right out for a room. Mine's numbered 116, if you ever need to find me."

Edited 2015-05-04 21:33 (UTC)

"I will have to repay you some time very, very soon," Cinderella says, curtsying as she takes her leave.

He's seen this story before, though only in the book. Charming hadn't been there to witness Cinderella's story with the prince intimately, though he had been at the wedding, which had been a lovely affair that he and Snow had enjoyed. And so, seeing this woman now with only one shoe, it doesn't strike him as familiar as he hurries a few steps forward to offer his hand to her. "It'd be my pleasure," he insists warmly. "Here we are," he encourages, taking hold of her to help bring her up.

He has a kind face and a sweet face and Cinderella can't help but be a little relieved.

"Thank you, kind sir," she says, getting to her feet. "Your assistance is most appreciated. It's difficult to walk in only one shoe, I'm afraid."

"I don't have a similar experience, but I can assure you I empathize," Charming says warmly, helping her to get settled before he eases away and checks that she's fine. "Are you all steady now?" he asks, hopeful that he can ask the question on his mind without seeming too rude and forward.

Cinderella nods. He's handsome and kind and while he isn't her Kit, she could certainly see some woman being taken with him. He has the sort of friendly, open face that she feels like she can really trust.

"I am, thank you. Where is this place?"

"Any explanation I have for you is probably going to sound crazy," Charming warns, though he has the feeling that the same could be said about a lot of other parts of his life, too. "We call it the Nexus hotel," he begins to explain. "As for where it is and how it exists, I'm as lost as you are and I've been stuck here for the better part of a year."

"A hotel? An inn, you mean?" Hotel isn't a word that she is familiar with but Cinderella is very familiar with inns. When she was very small, she liked to imagine the inns her father stayed in while traveling for his work and she imagined them to be warm, cozy places - home, but not quite. Nothing is as good as home.

Then again, home hasn't been a happy place for her for some time now. Perhaps this inn would be better in the short term until she got her bearings again.

"You've been here for a year? What about your family? Haven't they missed you terribly?"

"Yes, like that," Charming agrees warmly, because he understands that some words might not make that much sense, but he's more than happy to explain however will help her to understand. "And yes, I imagine they would if they knew I was missing. Time works very strangely here," Charming explains. "It stops. So when I return, they don't even know that I've been missing, which just means I miss them all the more."

"Time doesn't pass? So...if I were here, my stepmother wouldn't notice I've gone?"

That is a pleasing prospect, especially considering Cinderella doesn't think she's had a full night's sleep since her father died.

"No, I don't imagine she would, unless she managed to figure out how to get here, too," he says, a touch cautious because he knows the topic of stepmothers can be a dicey one, given Snow's experience with Regina. "Is she hurting you somehow?" he asks warily.

Cinderella has never been asked this directly before and she does not know how to respond. Part of her wants to say yes, she is, but she does not wish for her stepmother or stepsisters to be turned out. Where would they go, exactly? Things are better as they are.

Then again, this place is far away from them. Perhaps it is safe to confide a very small bit.

"Things have not been good since my father died."

"I know how that feels," Charming says gently, though in his case, it's just him and his actual mother. Sometimes, losing someone you care so much about changes life in ways that affect you in surprising ways. "I'm sorry," he offers his deepest sympathies. "Here, maybe we should walk. I can show you some of the places to eat and sleep that are here?"

"That would be wonderful," Cinderella says, trying to lighten her voice and cheer up a bit. Her mother had always told her to be courageous and while it has been a struggle recently, it seems a little easier to do it in the face of kindness and concern rather than scorn.

"You have been most kind to me. I only hope I will have a chance to return the favor."

Charming gives a nod of his head, gesturing onwards. "Here we are," he says. "I'm David," he introduces himself. "Or Prince Charming, but I feel like when I introduce myself using that name, people tend to think I'm more egotistical than I really am, when really it's just my wife's favourite name for me."

"I'm Cinderella," she says, nodding her head in deference to him. "Are you truly a prince, David?"

If he is, he seems kind and genuine and unaffected by his lofty position and that is something that Cinderella admires.

"By circumstance, yes," he admits, a humble smile on his face given that he's hardly much of a prince these days, even if he still wants to lead Storybrooke as if he is. "It's a long, complicate story," he admits, not sure he wants to spend his time boring her with it.

"Oh, well, I've always loved long stories. You'll have to indulge me after I've settled in," Cinderella decides. She thinks it might be romantic, to become a prince through circumstance and not birth. It could be an exciting tale.

"We'll make a date of it," Charming promises, in that amicable way that has no romance attached to it. He gives her a nod of his head, thinking of the last person he'd known with her name and bearing. "I hope you don't think I'm being rude," he says, "but I think I've met someone like you before. Not exactly, just like you in some ways."

"Oh, really? Tell me, what was she like?" Cinderella is always impressed whenever someone gives her a compliment and being compared to someone he's met before seems like a compliment; it's been a long time since she's been on the receiving end of one of those.

"Kind and gentle, a good-hearted woman," Charming says, thinking of Ashley and Cinderella, knowing that the both of them are the same woman the same as he's David and David Nolan, but at least for Ashley, Regina's curse had only trapped her on the cusp of a child. "You seem just as virtuous," he praises her.

Cinderella blushes softly. "Oh, well, I have never been so honored by a compliment. You flatter too much. In truth, it has been a long, long while since I have had a kind word and I feel a little dizzy from someone thinking of me as someone of worth, much less as a virtuous woman."

"How is it that you haven't heard kind words in such a long time?" Charming asks cautiously, given that he knows that such things need to be tread on carefully, never sure what someone's history might hold. "You seem plenty virtuous and kind to me."

"I'm not always...appreciated," Cinderella says delicately. She doesn't want to be rude and she certainly doesn't want to burden Charming with her problems.

"I think people forget that everyone has feelings and dreams and emotions. Some of us just seem invisible."

"I'm sorry to hear that," he says sincerely. "No one should ever be put in a position like that, especially not when everyone ought to get an equal chance at living those dreams," he goes on. "I know my life wouldn't be the same if I hadn't been given that chance."

"Well, you've been kind and this is a new place," Cinderella says, determined to be cheerful about this. "So there is a chance for a new beginning, is there not?"

"I know all too much about being in strange places and not feeling like anyone's there to help you," he admits, trying not to think about being David Nolan and bringing those issues on himself by his spineless indecision. "I do hope you find some happiness here," he offers. "It seems like a good place for it."

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