Everything was falling into place. The prince was out of the picture, the Maid and Witch were under her control, and the Page and Rogue would soon submit to her as well. Her Imperious Condescension cackled under her breath, the whole plan ran much more smoothly than she imagined. Then, a burst of air whipped her long locks around her and, as it settled, the form of a not-so young boy robed in the cloth of the Heir stood before her.
She was amused by the new challenger and laughed, telling him how foolish it was to go up against her. The Heir pulled his hood off and looked her straight in the eyes. The Condescension froze, her cocky smile faltered into a look of astonishment. As the boy looked at her, and she back at him, tears began to swell in her eyes.
The grip on her trident went lax and dropped to the ground. She stumbled forward slowly, her fuchsia tears dripping down her face, as she extended her arms out. She knew it wasn't truly him, but…he was a sweet child, one whom loved her dearly and she let herself get attached to. And in her moment of weakness, the word slipped out…
"…Son?"