Disclaimer 1: Most of this is fanfic. That means I do not own any of it. I just borrow it to play with for a little while and let people see the pathetic results if they really want to.
Disclaimer 2: I'm not making any money from it. It's just for fun.
Disclaimer 3: What isn't borrowed is all made up. None of this is real or most likely at all realistic. Please don't trust any of the information in here. Most likely you know more about whatever I'm writing about than I do.
Disclaimer 4: Attitudes, views and opinions expressed by the characters or in the story are not necessarily those of the author. Even when writing Science Fiction or Fantasy I do not tend to attempt to create perfect/better worlds in which everybody gets a happy end ... or whatever is best for them. Please accept that some characters will have a bad ending or be unhappy.
Disclaimer 5: I intend no insult to anyone. If I offend anyone I'm very sorry. Please understand that it was an accident as I tend to be very clumsy in these things.
Prologue
7 November 1980.
In a small dark room off the main street of magical Paris a mirror beeped. A man who had been writing at the table it was lying on sneered as he picked it up.
"I thought I told you not to contact me until you'd completed the task," he snapped in German.
"And so I have," the woman in the mirror replied in the same language. "Are you free to talk, Amadeus?"
Amadeus's eyes lit up. "Heinrich von Lothringen is dead?"
"Poisoned in his own home," the woman returned with a smile. "Which I never set foot into, of course."
"Excellent," Amadeus praised her. "This is it then. House Lothringen is done for."
"There's still the girl," the woman cautioned. "And the Emperor himself."
"What girl?" Amadeus demanded sharply. "I know of no girl."
"Anna-Theresia von Lothringen," the woman explained. "Heinrich's daughter. She'd be next in line for the throne. Well, whoever marries her will be."
There was a pause. Finally Amadeus said: "He won't bear the name von Lothringen, but still it leaves my revenge incomplete. How old is the girl?"
"Merely a baby. She celebrated her first birthday sometime last month."
"Not much older than my grandson then," Amadeus said. "But no, I will not let her live on such a tenuous chance at the throne. The girl must die."
"She will be well guarded after her father's assassination," the woman pointed out.
"Indeed, but there's time. It will be years before she can get married or produce another heir. She will have to come out of hiding sometime. She has to be educated, after all. Then she'll walk right into our hands."
"You want us to strike at the school?" The woman gasped.
"It will be our last strike," Amadeus said. "And the easiest."