Cinder X Bella ~ Twenty-One!

The next few months would have been absolute tedium, were it not for Bella being able to practice her skills without interference. With no lessons, no chores, and almost no human interaction whatsoever, her days blended together—marked only by the solitary meals she ate each day. The new cook was adept in the kitchen but inordinately cranky. Bella was certain that was the reason Matringa had been excited to hire him in the first place.

As she was unwelcome in the main house, Bella filled her days by sitting in the cellar and working with her mice or wandering the estate grounds singing to the birds. The avian creatures were always sent away, instructed not to linger in the area or go anywhere near the hedges. If it weren't for the fact that Bella wanted to hide her association with the rodents in the house, she would never paint a target on her feathered friends like she was. 

But, as she always had to remind herself, especially when she saw crumpled pigeons and thorn-pricked crows: Matringa could never be allowed to know about how she was really practicing. 

One day, as she got out of bed, Bella's feet landed on the dirt floor of the cellar and felt as though they were going to freeze off. “Whaa! No! Winter can't be coming early this year, there's no reason my floor should be this cold.”

After getting ready for the day, she walked up the stairs and out of the cellar, only to find that a thick rime of frost had settled over the lawn. She hurried inside, only to find herself face-to-face with her stepsisters, who seemed just as surprised to see her as she was to see them. Cattiva stepped close to Bella, a strange, squinting expression on her face. Her younger stepsister raised a hand then smacked Bella on the shoulder.

A puff of dust escaped the fabric, and the stepsisters let out a scoffing laugh before turning and walking away from her without a word. Cece trailed after them, a laden tea tray in her hands. The maid winced in sympathy for Bella's dusty state, then jerked her head to the side. Correctly guessing her intention, the Beast Singer went into the kitchen, finding a thick, steaming pot of porridge that she quickly took a bowl of to try and regain some body heat.

“Bella? Bella!” Matringa called down the stairs, “This is ridiculous, why do I need to shout through the hallways like some common hooligan to get your attention? Cattiva told me you were down there; come up here immediately.”

Luckily, she’d finished eating by the time her stepmother came searching for her, so Bella quickly brushed off her dress to try and make herself as presentable as possible, then hurried up the stairs. “I’m here, Signora.”

“Finally. Today I'm going to… what… why are you covered in filth?” Whatever Matringa had been about to say fled her mind as she took in the dusty, cobweb-in-hair, mess that was her stepdaughter. “You're disgusting.”

Barely holding back her shrug, Bella maintained her poise and calmly replied, “My apologies, Signora, it was too cold to go straight to the bath this morning. The dirt floor and constant rain of dust in the cellar doesn't exactly lend itself toward keeping me clean, but normally I'm able to wash up before-”

“Yes, the ground is cold. That's what happens this time of year.” Matringa let out a sigh as she explained the situation as sweetly as possible. “I understand you aren't happy with that, and you want the floor to be covered. Yes?”

Narrowing her eyes in suspicion, Bella slowly responded, “Yes… though I would much prefer to just have my room back. I know this might be strange, but I never expected sleeping inside my own house to be a privilege.”

“Of course it's a privilege to sleep in your father’s house. You don't see the common rabble of the town trekking out here and hibernating through the winter like groundhogs, do you?” Matringa shook her head and looked to the heavens, as if to question why she’d been burdened with such a dense child. 

Just then, the stepsisters entered the room, shooting Bella nasty looks when they saw she was a part of whatever they’d been called for. Matringa turned to them with a smile. “Good, you're all here. Now, we've received an invitation for a winter gathering. You may recall our friend, Rosa, who married the Earl?”

“Yes, of course!” Cattiva clapped her hands eagerly. “Does this mean we are going to be fitted for some new dresses? I love the winter style. Fur just works for me.”

Matringa waited for her daughter to finish speaking, raising an eyebrow at the interruption. “Indeed, a better wardrobe is needed for all of us. However, in my mind, this would be a welcome opportunity to mingle with the nobility and perhaps spread the news of Malvagio’s upcoming eligibility. Wouldn't it be wonderful to see her married up the social strata?”

“A new dress and new shoes, then.” Malvagio rolled her eyes, as if accepting a dark fate. “Fine.”

Cattiva butted in, “Mother! I want a new necklace-”

“Girls, girls, take it easy, we have plenty of time. Plus, we already have the fabric for your new dress, don't we?” Matringa let out a tinkling laugh, her eyes burning with excitement and ambition. “How about you, stepdaughter?”

The question threw Bella for a loop, as she had expected to be ignored and so had gotten busy plotting how she would retrieve her stolen fabric. “Me? I… need a new coat?”

She flushed as her stepsisters made scathing sounds of annoyance at her simple request, but held firm. Bella knew the ride to the Earl's manor would be multiple hours at the minimum, and it wasn't as though she were going to be allowed to curl up next to one of her stepfamily for warmth—she would choose to freeze before doing so. 

“Done.” Matringa took a sip of her tea, pointedly raising her pinky into the air as she sipped. Catching sight of Bella, she set her cup down and returned the stare in kind. “What? You can't imagine I would allow you to freeze when you are directly in my care? I can't imagine what kind of person you think I am, but I doubt you are fair to me in your thoughts.”

“Fa-” Bella flinched and snapped her mouth shut before she could let her incredulousness overtake her sense of self-preservation. Again. “Thank you for your consideration.”

Her stepmother ran a critical eye over the girls, then she turned to Bella once more and waved for her to go. “We'll find something for you to wear. Now, I've sent some of the servants to gather coverings for your floor, so your precious feet don't get chilly. Perhaps we'll find you some fancy slippers you can ruin by playing in the dirt as well.”

“I've always loved slippers; thank you for your consideration.” Bella replied monotonously, doing her best Malvagio impersonation. Matringa pursed her lips then gestured at the door once more, perhaps giving up on trying to goad Bella into ‘earning’ a punishment.

“Go get your room in order. In fact, it would be a good day for you to spend some time thinking over how you want your future to look. Make yourself a tray of food; no need to come back inside today.” Matringa turned back to her daughters and began once more speaking excitedly of dresses, pearls, and pageantry, as though she hadn't just ordered her husband's child to suffer in solitude.

Doing just as ordered, Bella went down to the kitchen and searched for food, only to find that the bland porridge was the only ready and available food. For some reason, the pantry now had a thick padlock on it, barring her from making her own meals—at least without permission. “You want me to take enough for lunch and dinner? Fine.” 

Bella grasped the large pot by its handles, hauling the entire thing with her and leaving a trail of steam in the frosty morning as she marched over to the entrance of her room. In her anger, she almost slipped on the top stairs, which had a thin sheen of ice on them, and forced herself to calm down enough to maintain her balance. Throwing open the door, she called out to her animals, “Today, we feast! Tomorrow, we…”

Looking around the room, Bella took in the sudden appearance of the huge piles of straw, which had been tossed into her room. “Oh. Look. The promised floor covering. Who needs rugs or blankets when you can nestle into dried grass, like a chicken?”

She walked across the ankle-deep straw, grimacing as she saw the long strands cling to her dress and socks. “This… this will not do. If I leave this as it is, I'm going to be infested by bugs on top of freezing to death. If only I could order crickets around as easily as a shrew!” 

After sitting on the bed and staring at the intentionally frustrating situation her stepmother had created for her, the Beast Singer started looking at the positives of the situation. “Well… no one’s expecting to see me for at least a day. I have plenty of food for myself and my friends, and, well, to be fair, it’s already less damp in here. How can I turn this to our advantage?”

Beginning to hum as she thought through her options, Bella allowed her mice to gather in droves. “If you’re all willing to help me, I think we can turn this into a huge positive. What do you think?”

*Squeak!* The reply was instantaneous and unanimous.

“Wonderful. Thank you all; you are kinder than you ever need to be.” Taking a deep breath and clapping her hands, Bella let out a sudden, aggressive sneeze. She rubbed her nose, trying to get rid of the frown on her face. “We need to clean, organize, and create. Can I get half of you to move all of the straw from this half of the room to the other side, and the other half…. we need to figure out a way to turn all this loose straw into something dense. Could we weave it? Straw rope is a thing; it just isn't very strong, right?”

She joined the first group, using her hands and already straw-coated dress to scoop large swathes of straw off the floor and into the other side of the room. As she sang to pass the time, any scraps she missed were quickly gathered by her furry friends.

“In a cellar dim and cold, a girl and mice fight straw and mold! Together we toil the straw to shift, and you know what? With every bundle, my spirits lift!” 

Bella found herself chuckling as she worked, not noticing that her happiness was infectious—the mice were working faster and harder at the same time. 

“Scamper and hustle, little feet so spry! I'm tired and angry, but can’t just sit here and sigh! Straw to the left, straw to the right, clear this cellar with all your might!”

Behind her, the second team of mice began to weave the straw together, their tiny mouse hands achieving a tightness of weave that larger human hands simply couldn't. As Bella continued to sing, the new straw rug continued to grow. 

“Together we’ll work, not one straw missed! In perfect harmony, we'll coexist. By noon today, our task will be done… just a girl and mice working as one!”

She kept practicing the song, adjusting it until she was happy with how it sounded, how it flowed. With her hands busy, and her mind working on a task, the hours flowed by. The Beast Singer made sure to give the small creatures rest as needed, doling out porridge when they were hungry but needing them to secure their own water when they were thirsty. 

Before Bella knew it, the straw rug had grown to the size of nearly three-quarters of the floor’s space, and she was out of loose straw. Taking a look at the weave, she was shocked by the perfection and density of the creation, “By the system! I bet I could use this to carry water, if I needed to. Great work, no… fantastic, unbelievable work!” 

*Squeak.* The mice stood on their hind legs, kicking their feet as if embarrassed at the praise. They made a ‘go on’ motion, waving their front paws at her—all but one. One of the mice, an extra fluffy little guy she had named Gus, was doing something odd. Bella stepped closer, and found that the mouse was chewing on a small bug.

“Were you all eating the bugs in the straw as you cleaned and wove?” Many of the mice nodded vigorously, and Bella could only silently thank them, holding back happy tears as she thought of how terribly the day could’ve gone—how badly it was intended to go. “Thank you all… as far as I'm concerned, you've spun this straw into gold.”