Annice's POV

"You're kidding me," Jeremy said, his voice dripping in pure disbelief. "You're what they based the princess Cinderella on." I giggled and nodded slowly.

"I was in Ansbach, Germany, a couple centuries ago, tracking my family," I explained, and he flinched. I don't think he was used to the idea of me being an Original.

Well, sort of an Original.

I continued, "And I was playing it close, pretending to be the maid of my family, or my sister at least, but I wore my cap so low and was a maid of such low stature that they barely looked at me. The thing is, my family was very rich, very popular, but also well hidden under false names and such, so it was practically impossible to know that they could be the monsters of the night. Unless you already knew what they looked like. Anyway, being so famous, they were looked into by the British Prince George the Second, who had become rather fond of Rebekah. She was under the fake name Caroline." I shuddered, scowling angrily. "I hate her so much. He was sort of undercover, scoping for a princess to marry- and yes, while Klaus and Elijah were posing as aristocrats, Rebekah had a bit of fun and stole the position as princess."

"What happened to the actual princess Caroline?" he asked, slightly aghast. I smiled wickidly and poked him in the chest, almost tipping him while we sat cross-legged, facing each other on his floor, the bedroom and bathroom door locked tight.

"She died a bit early, to put it lightly." He frowned and paled the tiniest bit, which made me just that more amused. "As I was saying, before you rudely interrupted me," I implied, "George numero dos wanted a girl, and his father luckily wanted him to want to marry somebody, not just be forced into it. He came to town to find Rebekah, and instead found me."

Eyes crinkling, he said through a pinched smile, "And- let me guess- it was love at first sight?" I chuckled bitterly.

"Not quite. See, he saw me serving dinner among several others one night when he had been invited to supper to get to know the princess. A fancy dinner, however I don't remember most of it. Except one part. He convinced the royalty in Ansbach to throw a masquerade, and, after the dinner, excused himself momentarily. What he did was find me. He personally invited me to the ball, saying he could smuggle me a beautiful dress. At first, I thought he was joking. I mean, a prince chasing a scullery maid!"

Jeremy looked unimpressed, but then again, he never lived in that time. It probably sounded cheesy and romantic to him. Kids these days.

"Right, so," I spoke on, basically lecturing him on the basics of Cinderella, "I was given a dress later that night, in the darkest hour just before the dawn. A beautiful dress, with a beautiful mask-"

"Your outfit," he concluded, "at the masquerade ball a couple weeks ago, the pink dress and glass mask. That was from Prince George the Second?" I nodded, my gaze turning glassy and cold.

"It took a great deal of anger to break that thing. Pure fury. I would never have otherwise." I cleared my throat thickly, trying to swallow against the growing lump in my windpipe. His eyes softened, as if he knew exactly what I was going through. Then again, he sort of did. "I went, now posing as a distant, forgettable cousin of the princess. Noticing me instantly, the Prince asked me to dance to a sweet tune. I can't remember the name. It was rather wonderful."

I meant it. It was a vague memory, but also rather clear, in an odd sort of way. Men and women dancing around, dresses swirling on the floor like water lillies across a serene, blue lake, men looking positively dashing in their black tuxedoes and tailcoats, and I never knew a soul. Except Rebekah and George.

"Eventually, the real cousin of 'Caroline' showed up, and I was forced to flee. When I ran out, my shoe fell off my foot onto the stairs, but Rebekah had noticed certain problems in my character. Like how the real cousin and I were wearing different dresses. I had to leave it. When the Prince came out to catch me, I was gone, and my shoe was not.

"After that, he returned my shoe, and, er, visited," I knoced my elbow against his arm and winked, "several times. But Rebekah isn't a complete idiot, though I know for sure she is sort of one. She noticed irregularities in his schedule, how he would excuse himself during a rendezvous between them more often than normal. She turned to the maids and the butlers, as they can see everything, but they can't ever speak of it until spoken to. She got one of them to squeal that he'd been having his little affair with me, and so I had to end it before she caught me in the act. She needed proof. I went to him and told him that we must end it, that he had to marry another, for we were not meant to be together. However, when I left, after he had confessed his 'undying love' for me, I did not expect him to marry Rebekah- er, uh, 'Princess Caroline of Ansbach'."

"Wait, so how did you get Cinderella out of that? Wasn't the bad girl her step-sister? Didn't she have the famous happy ending? And wasn't she blonde with blue eyes?" he peppered me with questions, and I finally stuck a hand in his face, stopping him in his tracks.

"I'm not done!" I sighed and rolled my eyes. "When they needed to have children, she stole babies from local women and faked pregnancies. She refused to let George see her 'births'. She tried to get out of the marraige, bringing in a chick with smallpox and hiding her face under a veil, but then he got smallpox too and she had to go back and heal him. Finally, she faked her death, and she was free. On the other side, I tried to, well, kill anybody who knew of my story, wanting to leave no loose ends-"

"Annice!" he gasped, and I held my hands up in defense.

"I was different back then. A bit more harsh. A bit. Anyway, there was one who knew a little bit, but he caught my interest. Feeling sweet, I told him the rest of the story, and he recorded it, but with your fairytale happy ending instead." I remember it like it had gone on last week.

"Why would you change the ending?" I asked curiously, staring into his freshly undead, misty blue eyes and laying a hand on his naked shoulder, reveling in the softness of the velvet blanket he was swathed in.

"To make it happier of course!" he responded brightly and I giggled, absolutely jubilant. My head tilted back with euphoria and laughter.

"But I already found my happy ending." His eyebrows crunched in confusion. "I found you."

"And the blue eyes, blondie?" Jeremy jeered, oblivious to my saddening memories. It clenched my throat with pain and made me long for someone who still lingered on the edge of my mind.

"He said that the character shouldn't be fierce, but rather dainty and the average pretty-girl, in today's terms. And with the step-sisters thing, Princess Caroline did have a rather forgettable sister, and a chamberlady who practically ran the whole show like the evil stepmother. She hated me, too. The writer just thought, what with the happy ending, it would be a bigger slap in the face to the evil girls when the Prince chose me over my own 'sisters'."

And then he asked the question I really didn't want to answer, the one I'd been dreading he would.

"Who was this author? I've never heard of a Cinderella book." He absentmindedly fiddled with his ring, twisting it around his finger. I took a deep breath.

"Andrew," I whispered shortly. "I turned him. His name was Andrew."

* * * * *

There was utter silence in the room. I don't remember ever telling him about him. The one who only became Katherine's butler because he knew I was close to her. The one that, while she stared me down, injected her fatal claws into his chest cavited and picked his heart out like a piece of candy out of a Trick-or-Treat basket. But then again, talk's cheap and easy to find in a town like this, with people like these.

"Oh," he breathed, making it blatantly obvious he had no idea what else to say. "Him."

"Yeah. Him." There was a heavy, awkward silence. Trying to lighten the suddenly pressured mood, I popped brightly, "So that's how Cinderella became her! He knew I didn't want anybody even knowing my name from that century, Anne, so he named her the first elegant, pretty name that came to mind: a mixture of Cindy, Sandra and Ella, or at least that's how he explained it. The book was never published, but somebody found the few copies he had in a summer house he bought in England. He was a Disney cartoonist. He brought the idea to Disney and Cinderella became the blue-eyed Barbie doll you know and love today. That is my fairy's little tale."

"That is so..." he trailed off.

"Fantastic? Cute? Awesome?" I supplied.

Instead he said, "Strange."

Strange. Strange, that word kept cropping up.

How very...

strange.

Stefan's POV

"She's gone," I said flatly, "and you didn't bother to see where she went?" My frown was becoming deeper and deeper by the second. I could feel it.

"Well," Damon crossed his arms over his familiar leather jacket, defensive. "Alaric called me in to help with Jules, and Rose was once again-" he cut a glare at the serene-looking, spiky-haired woman casually lounging across the couch, "-conveniently missing. I was otherwise preoccupied."

He shrugged, passing everything off as not his fault, like usual. Like a shrug could fix everything. Effing shrug.It tends to be Damon's fault. Although this time, his reasoning was certainly tempting me.

But my anger compelled me to say, "So, we have a rogue, old, strong, flippant, and rather unpredictable vampire who was willing to sacrafice Elena on the loose, and you just let her go because...?"

He shrugged again and put on his plastic smile, which he usually saves for crisp negotiations. Why was he being so evasive? So vague? It was like there was something he didn't want me to-

oh.

Damon's lonely. Briana- or I'd heard they were calling her Annice now- was a loner, too. They slept together, spent time together, and saved each other's lives. Or at least she saved his. I see what's going on here.

I can't believe I didn't see it.

He- oh, crap.

"You care about her," I murmured, and his smile dropped. Rose's head turned. Eyes flashed. Scowls twisted. No one denied anything, but Damon had this look on his face that I didn't know the half of it. "No, no, that's not it," I said. "You love her."

Damon's POV

Shit.

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Yay! I got a hold of a computer down here, as you can see. Just B.T.W., to all those who aren't Batman fans or aren't seeing it at midnight, I am, and screw you. I'm so excited!!! Oh, and to my close friends (you know who you are, you bitches) even if you do see it at midnight, I'm in a different time zone, so I'll see it an hour earlier. An hour. Bam. Sha-boom. She-bang.

Bleh...

But anyway, please comment. I'd really like to know how I'm doin'! I know you little devils read my story, so express your thoughts. I've heard that some people might not like my story because it's so... well-thought-out. Deep. I've read a lot of stories that get through a chapter, get to the point, and finish. I know this is another Damon love story, because we all effing love Damon. I know it's another one. I'm just hoping that this kicks ass as very few of them do.

Please comment.

Pretty please. With a cherry on top.

Wait- I hate cherries.