Disclaimer: All characters belong to Disney. All OCs and non-original names belong to me.

Chapter 1 – Homecoming Prince

A thin trail of dust rose above the trees as a long column of battle-weary and travel-worn soldiers and cavalrymen made their way slowly along the dusty road that lead to the township of Kingscliffe, in the small and virtually insignificant Kingdom of Caronia. The division was led by a handsome young man, who couldn't have been more than nineteen years of age, astride a gorgeous black charger. Blue, green and gold uniforms and flags identified the division as being from Caronia.

Cresting the hill overlooking the township, the young man halted his horse, and he turned to look at the man who'd halted his horse alongside his. The second man was Angus, the Captain of the Guard, and the young man's childhood friend.

"Why have we stopped, Your Highness?" Angus asked.

"I like the view from up here," the young man replied quietly. Prince Christopher of Caronia, known to his closest friends and family simply as Kit, was the much loved son and only child of the elderly King Frederick. His mother had died when he was only three years of age, and because of that, he was entirely devoted to his father.

Kit shifted his weight in the saddle to ease his aching legs. "We've spent the past six months fighting for the Kingdom, and now... We're almost home."

"Yes. Now, stop daydreaming. I know the soldiers are keen to return to their families, and I'm looking forward to a hot bath, a warm meal and a soft bed!"

Kit laughed. "Then we'd better hurry!"

Mischievously, Kit urged his horse into a canter, and the division surged forwards, charging down the road. The Prince's eagerness to be home was contagious, and soon everyone was hurrying to get home as quickly as possible.

…

Inside the palace, Gregory, the Grand Duke, watched the approaching division from the window of his sitting room. He breathed a small sigh of relief when he saw the division's familiar colours. From the number of soldiers he could see, the division seemed to have suffered very little loss during the campaign. He couldn't see who was leading the division, but he hoped it was Prince Christopher. Letters had been few and far between during the campaign, so the fate of the division hadn't been known until now. King Frederick had taken ill two months earlier with an unknown ailment, and he knew that the loss of Prince Christopher would likely kill his master. Perhaps the fear of losing his son had brought on the illness, or perhaps it was just old age. Whatever the reason, the King wanted his frail condition kept quiet. Diplomatically, it could be very distressing if other Kingdoms found out. On that point, Gregory agreed with him.

Grabbing a pair of binoculars off a nearby table, Gregory focussed on the leader as they slowed down to pass through the township. Cursing under his breath, Gregory had to wait until the division had started to reappear from amongst the buildings. Then, he focussed on the leader again.

"Yes! It's definitely him!" he said to himself. Satisfied, he put the binoculars back, before making his way to King Frederick's bedchamber.

Even since he'd fallen ill, the King had been forced to spend most of his time in his bedchamber. Fretting over the fate of his beloved son had done little to help him recover. Gregory knew that his news would come as a great relief to the King.

"Come in," the King called upon hearing the Grand Duke's knock.

Gregory entered the room quietly. "Your Majesty? I have some news for you."

"Yes?"

"The division has returned."

King Frederick sat up, fear etched in his face. "And?"

"Prince Christopher is leading the division."

The King breathed a heavy sigh of relief. "Are you sure?"

Gregory hesitated before answering, "Positive, sir. I saw his colours."

"You don't sound very confident."

"It is difficult to be positive of anything when viewed from a distance."

"True." The King gestured to his valets to come and help him dress. "I'll meet you downstairs."

"Very good, sir." Bowing, the Grand Duke retreated from the room.

…

Having left most of the division to unite with their families in town, Kit rode the last half mile or so towards the palace mostly at a gallop. He was glad to be home at last. He just wanted to forget the horrors of the last six months, but he knew that would never happen. While the memories would diminish over time, he would never forget the valiant men they'd lost.

"Your Highness!" Angus admonished as his tired horse struggled to keep up with the Prince's.

Seeing the sweat coming from his horse's shoulders, Kit reluctantly reined him in, slowing him to a fast trot.

"I know you're keen to get home, and your horse is too, but please show some decorum."

Kit exhaled deeply. "You're always there to correct me, aren't you, Captain?"

"Sometimes, I look the other way. Unlike some people."

"You mean the Grand Duke?"

"You said it, not me."

Kit chuckled. He always preferred Angus' company over the Grand Duke's. The Grand Duke was very rigid in his beliefs and ideas, whereas Angus was much more lenient and prepared to break with tradition for the sake of happiness. Angus had been brought to Caronia as a child, to be a servant and companion to the motherless Prince, but his loyalty had gained the King's trust and respect, which was rewarded with promotions and honours. Now, as Captain of the Guard, he was the Prince's unofficial bodyguard, confidant and advisor. That was far harder than it sounded. Prince Christopher wasn't the easiest person to guard and advise. He was often restless, and once he'd set his mind to something, it was near impossible to make him change it.

Upon their arrival at the foot of the palace steps, Kit, Angus and those left with them dismounted. Stablehands took possession of the horses. Then, Kit and Angus walked up the long flight of steps leading up to the palace forecourt. The other men headed off in various directions, heading to other areas of the palace grounds.

When Kit reached the top of the steps, he saw the front door of the palace being opened in anticipation of his arrival. Striding confidently across the forecourt, Kit saw the Grand Duke emerge from the doorway, followed by his father. The breath caught in Kit's throat. His father looked so pale and fragile. It was as though he'd aged ten years in the six months he'd been away.

"Welcome home, Your Highness," the Grand Duke said sincerely once Kit and Angus had reached the doorway.

"Thank you, Grand Duke. It's good to be home at last."

King Frederick stepped forwards, and he pulled Kit into a long awaited embrace. "It's wonderful to have you back safely at last, Kit."

Kit smiled. His father nearly always called 'Kit'. It had been his mother's pet name for him, and after she'd died, his father had continued calling him by that name as a way of remembering her.

"Thank you, father. How are you?"

"To be honest, I've been better. I worried about you every single day, hoping that you'd stay safe. Stand back and let me get a good look at you… Yes, you've hardly changed at all. You're a little more tanned, perhaps, but that'll soon change. Come inside, and freshen up. Then we can talk. You too, Captain. I want a full report on all the battles."

Kit flinched. It was only subtle, but from the Grand Duke's expression, Kit knew he'd seen it.

…

A few hours later, Kit was dozing on his soft, cosy bed, having bathed and changed into a brand new set of clothes. His valets were quietly moving about the room, carrying out their duties without disturbing their exhausted master.

Someone knocked softly on the closed door. It was the Grand Duke. He entered the room in a manner that seemed to suggest that he owned the place. "The King wants to see the Prince immediately," he announced.

"You'll have to wake him yourself then," one of the valets replied quietly. "He gave orders not to be awakened, unless there's an emergency, of course."

With an indifferent grunt, Gregory went over to the grand green and gold canopy bed. He paused for a moment, looking down at the Prince. He looked so peaceful; it was a shame to wake him up. Gregory cleared his throat. "Your Highness? The King wants to see you."

Kit remained asleep. Frowning, Gregory decided to break protocol by giving the sleeping Prince a small nudge. That did the trick. Groaning sleepily, Kit stirred.

"Your Highness?"

"What is it, Grand Duke?" Kit asked, wiping the sleep from his eyes.

"The King wants to see you immediately."

Propping himself up on one elbow, Kit glowered at the Grand Duke. "You woke me up just to tell me that?"

"It was an order, Your Highness."

Sighing heavily with annoyance, Kit sat up, and he pulled on his boots. "Lead the way."

Escorted by the Grand Duke and two guards, Kit made his way to the Audience Chamber, where his father, Angus, and numerous Generals were waiting for him. Kit slumped his shoulders. They were there to discuss how the war had gone. It was the last thing Kit wanted to do right now.

Angus and the Generals stood up in unison as Kit entered the room. They sat down again once Kit and the Grand Duke were seated.

"Sorry I'm late, father," Kit said. He glared at the Grand Duke. "I gave orders not to be disturbed."

The King waved a hand, dismissing Kit's comment. "Now that we're all here, let's make a start. First, we need to write up a list of all the soldiers who perished."

"That's already been done, father," Kit said. He nodded to Angus, who handed over a file.

"We lost a total of 1,458 men," Angus added.

Kit lowered and shook his head, disgusted and saddened. His father had sent him to war to wake him up from his daydreams and to knock some sense into him, but it had had the opposite effect. The things he'd seen had changed him forever. Gone was the carefree, innocent boy he'd been when he'd left for war. Now, he was remorseful and thoughtful. His demeanour wasn't missed by the Grand Duke.

"With your permission, father, I'd like to personally write condolence letters to all of the families of those who died," Kit said quietly without looking up. The Grand Duke scoffed at his request.

"Nonsense! We have never sent condolence letters! War is a part of life, and those who fight know the risks it entails."

Kit looked up, staring straight at the Grand Duke. "But what about the families?" he protested. "I need to be sure that none of them will suffer anything worse than grief. I need to know that, financially, they'll all be okay."

"That is their concern! Not yours!"

Kit stood up abruptly, knocking his chair over in the process. "It is my concern! You did not fight with those men, and you were not there with them, holding them when they…" His voice caught for a moment, making his hesitate. "…when they died…"

Unintimidated, the Grand Duke leaned back in his chair. "Your Highness seems to have become rather too sentimental."

"Rather sentiment than a cynic," Angus muttered.

Fury flashed in Kit's eyes. Turning, he started to storm out of the room.

"Kit?" the King called out weakly.

Pausing, Kit turned back around just in time to see the King tumble out of his chair, hitting floor heavily.

"FATHER!" Kit yelled, rushing over and kneeling at the King's side. He gently shook him by the shoulder.

King Frederick was unresponsive.

This is my very first Cinderella FanFic, so I hope you all enjoy reading this story as much as I'm enjoying writing it. Please be kind to me in your reviews! I greatly appreciate all feedback. Thank you.