Disclaimer: I own nothing. Nothing nothing nothing nothing. Not the Jane Austen bits, and not the JL characters.

A/N: Well, here we go again. It's an AU BMWW, set in Regency England. It isn't Austen, though there will be more than a few hints of Austen in here. I hope you enjoy it!

Gunpowder, Treason and Plot

Chapter One - Treason

London, 1810

The wrenching screech of iron on stone woke the prisoner, jerking him out of his broken slumber. He sat up sharply, then stood as his two oldest daughters were shown into the cell.

Donna wasted no time, and flung herself into her father's arms, sobbing. "Pappa!"

The former Colonel Hector Prince smoothed down her hair. "Hush, Donna. It will be alright."

"How will it?" she choked.

Hector fell silent, looking over Donna's shoulder toward his eldest daughter. Diana stood with her arms crossed, her expression torn between rage and sadness. It would not be alright, and they both knew it. Hector let go of Donna and held his arms out to Diana; her blue eyes immediately grew brighter, but she embraced her father quickly.

"Cassandra?" he asked quickly.

"With Miss Lane. She's safe."

"Good."

"This isn't fair," she whispered. "You're not a traitor!"

"It no longer matters," he sighed. "Your priority now is the well-being of your sisters, you understand me?"

"Yes, Pappa," she answered, words dutiful but tone resentful. Hector smiled, leaning back to kiss her forehead. "So much like your mother."

"If she were here, she would never let you do this-"

Hector let go of his daughter. "I know this is difficult, Diana. But I've accepted my fate. You must do the same."

"How can I, when I know you are innocent?!" she demanded. "Pappa, why are you letting this happen to you?"

"Diana, I've been found guilty," he interrupted firmly. "I'm a traitor to my country and my family. And believe me when I say it is safer that way."

"Safer?" she asked, puzzled. "Pappa, you're not making any sense-"

"I know, my darling, I know."

The cell door was opened again, the guard standing there. "Execution's in half an hour. Mr Prince, the priest is here for your confession."

"Thank you," Hector nodded, embracing his daughters quickly. "Diana, listen closely. If you are ever in dire need, find my old apprentice."

Diana wiped her eyes. "Bruce? But he's-"

"He can be trusted — the only one who can, perhaps. Now you must go," Hector ordered. "And do not stay in London; go back to Worcestershire."

"We can't," Donna snapped, as angry as her sister and not as skilled at hiding it. "The crown has taken all our possessions. We have a hundred pounds a year to live on for the three of us."

"Don't fear, Pappa," Diana said quickly, seeing the concern flash across her father's features. "Miss Lane's fiancée has offered us rent of a cottage on his land. Gloucestershire. We will manage. Make do and mend."

The best thing that could happen now was that they find rich husbands who would take them from poverty, but that was extremely unlikely to happen. A dowry of any kind was out of the question for Donna or Cassandra, and Diana herself was almost twenty four. Soon she'd be officially labelled a spinster and no one would want to marry her. Personally she did not care; she firmly believed that she did not need a husband to exist happily — but she knew it would not help either of her younger sisters if that did become the case.

She knew her father saw straight past the façade of confidence, but they both managed equally brave smiles. "We will stay," she said firmly. "If only to make sure you are- Taken care of."

At her side, Donna gave another small noise of grief and broke down into sobs again. Diana took her hand, squeezing her hand. "Courage, sister," she whispered.

Hector kissed each of their foreheads. "Go."

Diana had to literally drag Donna from the cell and out of the Tower. Knowing that she'd barely be able to compose herself, Diana put Donna into a carriage and sent her back to the inn they were staying at. That done, Diana turned back to the Tower and went back inside. She managed not to cry or scream in horror as her father was led out to the scaffold. He locked eyes with her from the moment he picked her face out of the crowds; it wasn't difficult, she imagined. It would be the only one not sneering in hatred or yelling angrily. The priest gave the final prayers, and that was it.

Diana herself prayed to God that his neck might break. That way at least it would be quick.

Five minutes later, his feet had finally stopped twitching.

Diana sobbed all the way back to the inn. At the doorway, though, she had to stop. Donna would be crying into her arms all night, and it would do neither of them any good for Diana to do the same. Tomorrow they had to go back to Gloucestershire and begin their lives as orphans and outcasts.

The landlady of the inn was waiting for her as she opened the door. She, unlike most of her patrons, knew exactly why the two Prince girls were in London, and had offered her kind hospitality anyway. Diana offered a nod. "Good afternoon, Mrs Lancaster."

"Miss Prince. Your sister is resting in your room. Would you me to send some food up to you?"

"No, thank you. I'm afraid neither of us will have much appetite. We leave on the first available coach tomorrow."

"Very well. Goodnight, Miss Prince."

"Goodnight."

As she'd predicted, Donna burst into tears as soon as she set eyes on her sister, and Diana had to spend at least an hour making calming, crooning noises into her hair. "All will be well, Donna," she murmured. "Somehow. I promise. All will be well."

Eventually Donna fell asleep in her sister's arms, the pillow still wet with her tears. Diana couldn't sleep; she kept going over her father's words. It was safer for him to be executed? For whom? It certainly was not safer from her point of view — all it had done was to cast she and her sister out onto the charity of their few remaining friends, with little or no chance of profitable marriages for any of them. And then to tell her to find Bruce Wayne, of all people?

She remembered little of Mr. Wayne, as they'd met only a few times. She knew more of him now — enough to know that despite being half-American, he'd risen to meteoric heights in English society; there was even talk of the King ennobling him next year for services to his country. Though no one seemed to really know what those services might have been. Just as, Diana suddenly though, she had never truly been told what her father did. She knew he was in the navy, yes, and she knew that he had been fighting wars for the Empire all his life; the War of Independence, the Napoleonic Wards. He'd risen to the rank of colonel over the years, been involved in many battles, even stood at Admiral Nelson's side on the Victory at the Battle of Trafalgar five years ago.

And suddenly he was a traitor, disgraced and now hanged in front of the whole country. What was happening?

Diana sighed, rubbing her tired eyes and wondering if the candle had actually grown dimmer. It certainly seemed to have done. If you are ever in dire need… Feeling her eyes prickle again, Diana looked upward. "Well, Pappa…" she whispered. "One thing is certain. I am in dire need. Of knowledge. Why did you let this happen to you?"

She'd find out, she decided. No matter what it took. No matter how long. She would find Bruce Wayne, and though it would severely hurt her pride, she would beg if she had to.

Suddenly Donna uttered a sharp cry in her sleep, tossing and turning in a nightmare. Diana moved to sit on the edge of the bed, taking her younger sister's hands. No, she thought gloomily, I won't. I will do what Pappa asked me to. I will take care of my sisters. I will forget these thoughts of treason and danger. The corner of her mouth curled up scornfully. "It is unseemly of a young lady anyway, isn't it, Donna?" she asked softly. "That's what Mamma would say."

Their mother had died shortly after giving birth to their youngest sister Cassandra, and since then the three girls had been raised by their father. Or rather, Diana had raised Donna and Cassie (or tried to). Whenever he was home from serving his country, Diana was able to have some time alone, and had always taken her horse and ridden out into the countryside alone. Be her father's 'Little Amazon' again. Now her horse was gone, sold like everything else. Property of the crown. As was her father.

No, she decided firmly. No more riding. No more Little Amazon. Just the impoverished sisters Prince. And their increasingly bleak future.

A/N: Review please!