Morgaine: The princess Adam mentioned is from the novel; you'll be meeting her a little later in the story where more about their connection will be revealed.


A Debt to Pay

"Belle!" Cinderella cried, as she saw Belle and Adam climb the steps into the ballroom. She – and Eugene at her side – made their way towards them. "I'm so glad that you could both make it…I mean," she curtsied. "I bid you welcome to our palace, and I hope that you have a very enjoyable evening here."

Belle smiled as she curtsied back. "I thank you very much for having us, your highness."

"Please, Belle, there's no need to stand on ceremony."

"Isn't there?" Belle asked. "This is a very ceremonious place."

"Yes, but nobody's paying attention at the moment," Cinderella replied.

Belle's smile became a little mischievous as her voice rose. "Aren't they, Cinderella?"

There was no response from the gathered notables, lords and dignitaries already thronging the ballroom. Crowds failed to gasp in horror; all conversation failed to slam to a halt in shock at the lack of decorum; you could not have heard a pin drop, or even an entire tray of crystal goblets, for all the hubbub sounds of conversation.

Cinderella covered her mouth as she giggled. "I did tell you."

Eugene was dressed in the uniform of a hussar, with a red jacket laden down with gold brocade across the chest and arms, and golden faces on his cuffs and collar; his riding britches were blue, with more gold trim and silver buttons down the side, and his knee-high boots were polished to a shine. One arm was concealed behind a scarlet pelisse trimmed with black bear fur, but his hand emerged from it as he held it out to Adam. "Prince Adam, it's good to see you again."

Adam was rather less extravagantly dressed, wearing a green tailcoat with very little in the way of piping or brocade anywhere to be seen upon it, so that if Cinderella hadn't known he was the prince of the Franche-Comte she might almost have taken him for a country gentleman returned from a day's ride. He wore long white leggings up to his knees, in the slightly old-fashioned style, with small dark shoes with silver buckles on his feet. He took Eugene's hand with a little more warmth than he had shown to Cinderella when she had first called upon him. "Prince Eugene, likewise." He smiled. "May I belatedly congratulate you upon a most excellent marriage."

Eugene returned the smile in kind as he drew Cinderella a little closer. "Yes, I'm the most fortunate of men, without a doubt. I hope that you are almost as happy in your marriage as I am in mine." He let go of Adam's hand – or rather they both released the other – before taking Belle's hand gently in his and raising it to his lips. "Madame; perhaps we will have a little more opportunity to get to know one another than we did at our last meeting."

"Our visit to you will be much longer than yours was with us," Belle said. "So I hope so as well."

"And I hear that you're a father now as well, Eugene? Congratulations on that, too."

It might have been in Cinderella's imagination – and honestly she rather hoped that it was – but Eugene's smile seemed to her to become just a little more fixed in place than it had been a moment ago, and by the same token a little less warm and genuine. "Yes, I certainly have a great deal to be thankful for: a perfect wife and an expansive family."

That might not have stopped growing yet, Cinderella thought, because for all the trouble that had befallen during her last pregnancy she still hoped for more children, at least one son of her own womb and body and perhaps more children after that; but she did not say so, because that would have required Eugene to return to her bed once again and, well, because it didn't seem the time or place to bring it up.

"You're very fortunate," Belle said. "I, I'm not ashamed to say that I envy you both."

Adam looked a little uncomfortable, and possibly a little guilty for having brought the subject up, but when Eugene replied his tone was airy and somewhat blithe. "There are a few things that you're missing, but I wouldn't be too jealous about it. There are advantages to your position," his tone lowered, and his voice became a little softer. "You have each other, after all, and may be assured of that. You needn't be so concerned as you might be otherwise."

Cinderella frowned, she didn't really understand what Eugene was saying, and to be frank the conversation was starting to lose a little of its pleasantness. She didn't know what anyone was going to say next.

Adam came to her rescue. "Eugene," he said. "May I call you Eugene, your wife has been kind enough to dispense with the formalities?"

Eugene shrugged. "You're the ruling prince, if you're comfortable being informal then who am I to complain?"

"Wonderful," Adam said. "I hope you don't mind talking business for a little while before dinner but there are a few things I'd like to mention to you; why don't we leave the ladies to it before we start to bore them."

Cinderella might have been a little offended at Adam trying to exclude her – and Belle – from the serious discussion, had she not suspected that it was more a way of leading the conversation out of the waters in which it had been mired.

Eugene looked at her inquiringly.

"I'll be fine," Cinderella said.

"We both will," Belle said, drawing a little closer to her.

"Alright then, I'll be back in just a moment," Eugene said, and he kissed Cinderella lightly on the lips before he allowed Adam to lead him away.

Cinderella watched the walk into the crowd for a moment before she shot Belle an apologetic look. "I'm so sorry, I…I don't know why he said that."

To Cinderella's mixture of confusion and relief, Belle looked more thoughtful than offended. "I might…you had a difficult pregnancy, didn't you?"

Cinderella looked down at the hem of her ballgown, hiding her feet from view. She tried not to remember that night in any great detail: the blood, the pain, the sense of everything flowing out of her…she preferred to focus on the two beautiful girls that had resulted from it. But, well, short of barefaced and blatant lying she couldn't really deny that Belle was on the mark. "Yes," she admitted. "I suppose you could say that, but I don't really see what that has to do with anything?"

Belle frowned. "I…I shouldn't say, it's not really my place, and if I'm wrong…" she looked away from Cinderella, and cast an appraising gaze over their men as they presented their backs to the two ladies. Belle grinned mischievously. "I think mine is the more handsome by some distance."

"Oh!" Cinderella exclaimed, her uncertainty lifting like a weight taken off her back and her worry that Belle was upset dissipating. She laughed. "Even if that were true – which it isn't – mine would still be the better dressed by far." She smiled up at Belle. "You look absolutely lovely, by the way."

Belle was dressed in a gown all of gold, with a full skirt made up of eight triangular panels, each one rippling slightly up and down like the undulating motion of the waves upon the water. The bodice was simple, but emphasised the slenderness of her frame, while the wrapped sleeves fell off her shoulders and down towards thin arms enveloped in opera gloves as golden as the rest of the gorgeous dress. She wore her hair half in a bun, bounded by a thin golden kirtle, while the rest descended down her neck and draped elegantly but languorously over her shoulder. Despite the absence of any jewellery save for a pair of simple gold earrings, she still looked so wonderful that once again Cinderella was left with the sensation of having been put in the shade.

"Oh, I'm glad you like it," Belle said. "It's my favourite dress."

"I can see why," Cinderella said admiringly. "Would you twirl for me, please?"

Belle looked a little self-conscious, but she obliged without a word of complaint, turning in place to reveal a many-layered petticoat beneath the golden skirt, and golden shoes upon her heel.

Cinderella clasped her hands together at her breast. "Oh, you're so beautiful."

"So I've been told," Belle murmured. She stopped twirling, and cast her lovely hazel eyes over Cinderella. "You on the other hand, are simply stunning."

"Oh, thank you so much," Cinderella said, because it was very kind of Belle to say so even though she couldn't hold a candle to the other girl. Nevertheless she had tried her best, in a gown that was her favoured white, with a beaded bodice that sparkled with diamond dust sewn in amongst the beads tailored to her – a little less slender than Belle's – figure; the skirt was somewhere between ruffled and being many layers of peplum, with only a single layer of the (outer) skirt reaching all the way to the ground, with the others descending lower and lower but always longer at the back then at the front, forming impression of a train that followed along the ground behind her. The lace-trimmed bateau collar of her gown left less room for necklaces than Cinderella usually allowed herself, so by her own choice she had been restricted to only a single diamond choker, three strands deep, wrapped around her throat, with a crystal swan with a tiny sapphire for an eye set in the centre of it. She had made up for this restraint with a rows of stacked bracelets climbing up her arms up from her wrist, which she could feel through the silk of her white opera gloves: diamond bracelets, including the one that Eugene had given her as a gift before the wedding clasped around her right wrist; sapphire bracelets; diamond-and-sapphire bracelets all glistening under the light of the many candles that illuminated the ballroom. A pair of large diamond earrings hung from her ears, while the rolls of the French twist into which her hair had been arranged fell upon a silver silk hairband and behind a spindly crystal tiara set with diamonds.

While her wedding and engagement rings sat upon her right hand, upon her left she wore a silver ring set with a single square cut diamond.

"I'd like to show you something," Cinderella said, lifting up her skirt and lifting up one glass slipper-clad foot.

Belle's eyebrows rose. "Glass?"

"Yes," Cinderella said. "Eugene gave them to me as an anniversary present."

Belle let out a kind of laugh. "Whatever made him think of that?"

"Oh, I must tell you the whole story some time-" Cinderella began, before she was interrupted by the ringing of a bell from the far end of the ballroom. "But now I think we'd better go into dinner."

Belle slipped her arm into Cinderella's crook as Cinderella led the way towards the dining hall. It was strange, Cinderella could remember the days when she had gotten lost within this labyrinth, but now Belle was relying on her to be her guide.

Of course, she didn't really need a guide – she could have just followed the whole crowd that was all going the same way – but it was nice of her to pretend anyway.

"How are your children?" Belle asked. Cinderella's surprise at her asking must have shown on her face, for she smiled slightly and went on. "I can stand to hear the word, and I'm interested."

"I'm sorry, I just thought…I'm sorry," Cinderella said. "They're very well. I just put Philippe to bed before I came down."

"You do that yourself?" Belle asked.

"Of course," Cinderella replied. "Who else would do it?"

"I'm sure you could find someone," Belle murmured, with a glance around the lavish ballroom.

Cinderella chuckled. "Well, yes, put like that…but the servants can do things for my children, they can wash them and dress them and even feed them; but only I can love them, and only I can make them feel loved."

"I…wouldn't necessarily completely agree with you," Belle said. "Adam was raised by his servants; they loved him, for all his faults, and he…for all his faults he loved them too."

"I didn't know," Cinderella murmured. "But what about his parents?"

Belle hesitated. "I…he doesn't talk about them much, but I think his mother died when he was very young and his father…"

Cinderella nodded. "If anything…if anything happened to me then perhaps Philippe and my girls would need the servants to love them, and to make them feel loved; and perhaps they even would. But for now they still have me, and so I'm going to tuck my stepson in at night and kiss him good morning when he wakes up, and when my daughters are old enough to wake up in the morning instead of every hour or so I'll do exactly the same for them."

"And they'll be very fortunate in it, I'm sure," Belle said. As they left the ballroom, she cast one last glance behind her. "I may not like the architecture of this place as much as our castle back home, but I have to admit it is enormous. How do you find your way around?"

Cinderella laughed abashedly. "Through trial, error, and hoping that someone can hear you call for help when you get lost, I'm afraid. Perhaps I could give you a tour sometime?"

"That would be very kind of you," Belle said.

As they entered the grand ballroom, Cinderella led Belle up towards the head of the table, where His Majesty, Prince Eugene and Prince Adam were already waiting for them. As Belle, her wedding ring gleaming upon her left hand, made her way up the table in the direction of the head and of the King's seat, a few whispers and mutters began to follow her, as monocle-wearing former members of the Privy Council and ladies from Armorique's grand old families leaned back in their seats, and glanced and stared and murmured amongst themselves about what they were seeing.

"Ignore them," Cinderella whispered into Belle's ear as the two of them swept past. "That's what I've learnt to do."

"Then so shall I," Belle replied.

Cinderella led Belle around the table, passing the royal seat where His Majesty stood.

"Your Majesty," Cinderella said, with a curtsy to her father-in-law. "I hope that you've already been introduced to Prince Adam of the Franche-Comte, but may I present to you his wife, Belle."

Belle curtsied gracefully. "Your Majesty, thank you for you generous invitation."

The King took her hand. "I suspect that you well know whom you should really thank, but your words are gracefully accepted nonetheless."

Cinderella showed Belle around the table to her seat, between Eugene and Frederica, who were both already standing behind their chairs.

"Good to see you again," Frederica murmured. "We met at your wedding, I don't know if you remember."

"I…I think I do," Belle said. "You asked how I was."

"And you told me that you had always been an outcast," Frederica replied. She grinned. "Do you feel any less of one now?"

"A little," Belle admitted.

"Cinderella has that effect," Frederica said.

Cinderella pretended not to hear them as she went to her own seat, back on the other side of the table – she passed around the King a second time – next to Adam and opposite Belle. It was only once she, the last person to reach their seat, was standing behind it that the King himself sat down in the silent, unspoken signal that everyone else could take their seats also.

The banquet was lavish, as Cinderella had expected given the stellar quality of the palace chefs and the fact that one of their guests was a visiting ruling prince. Since her wedding Cinderella had never known a bad meal here, and the kitchen didn't produce one tonight. Dinner was served a la francaise, with all of the courses emerging at once – or as close as could be humanly achieved by the serving staff available – and being laid out down the table until it was groaning under the wait of so many dishes: roast pork, beef, lamb and chicken all slavered in rich and succulent smelling sauces; potatoes roasted, buttered and dauphinoise; buttered parsnips, carrots, artichokes, turnip and beetroot; oysters, eels and smoked herrings freshly caught that day; pies and cakes and luscious puddings they all lay spread out in a great column down the table, with the choicest-seeming dishes placed at the head before the King and his family and the visiting prince, while towards the bottom of the table the far became a little more sparse for those who were not so well-connected.

Cinderella at little, as was her wont; she had never been a great eater and Belle's slimness had rather put her to shame; she picked at her food, mostly vegetables with just a little meat and fish, and only mustered any appearance of enthusiasm when she caught Eugene looking at her; he was always concerned that she didn't eat enough.

She sent a few cuts of some of the nicest looking and loveliest smelling dishes a little down the table to her ladies and Jean, in case they were missing out.

Prince Adam, meanwhile, devoured the meat set before him with all the enthusiasm of a true carnivore. It was not that he ate rudely, although from the somewhat awkward way he held his elbows and kept glancing at Cinderella as though he was afraid that he was jogging her with his arm he might have feared that that was the case; in fact he ate in a perfectly genteel and civilised manner, but he also ate so heartily that he made His Majesty the King appear fastidious, and overwhelmingly upon the flesh of what had once been living creatures.

Belle ate a little more than Cinderella might have expected given her size, but in a manner much like Cinderella herself: picking slightly at morsels sprung from many dishes, without committing herself to any single one or few.

In their own ways, both she and her husband seemed to be enjoying the meal, which was what mattered most of all.

They did not discuss politics; there would be a time for that, in a more formal setting than…well, not to say that a state banquet wasn't formal, perhaps a better choice of words would be to say an official setting; the banquet, however convivial, was formal but not quite in the right way for a discussion of the business that had actually brought Adam and Belle to Armorique in the first place. Instead they discussed art and culture: Prince Adam was fond very fond of music even though by his own admission he couldn't play an instrument or carry a tune to save his life, and he lamented that there was no city or town in his principality large enough to be the home of an orchestra which he could patronise; this led to a polite verbal fencing match between Eugene and Adam over whether Cinderella or Belle had the prettier singing voice.

"Perhaps, rather than you continuing to assert that which the other has no experience of," Frederica interrupted with a roll of her eyes. "We might simply reconvene at some convenient and hear these two nightingales in contrast." She smiled. "Or even in duet with one another, for although there is sometimes a little pleasure to be derived from a pair of lovely voices straining to outdo one another, there is, I find, more to be obtained from hearing the twain embrace one another in harmony."

"I agree," Cinderella said. "Like a marriage."

Frederica let out a bark of laughter. "Yes, I suppose you could say that, and you certainly would. Like a marriage, like a good marriage…or a wholesome partnership."

Belle, it turned out, was a great reader, with opinions on all manner of literature that threatened to make Cinderella's head spin, and even Eugene and Frederica looked as though they were having trouble keeping up with some of her opinions as she dashed from one subject to the next (Adam looked fondly confused). On the other hand she was rather ignorant of the theatre, a deficit which Cinderella – who in her capacity as princess was patroness of the Theatre Royal – promised to remedy during her stay with them.

At length, all of the vast meal was devoured, and the table stood relieved of much of its prior burden as only empty plates and platters remained where once there had been piles of food.

It was at this point that all of the now full and heavily laden – Cinderella couldn't help but wonder if the order of things shouldn't have been reversed – dinner guests rose to their feet and returned to the ballroom for the dancing.

Eugene took her by the arm, and they made their way onto the floor for the first dance, but before the music could begin to swell Cinderella noticed that Paulette, one of her chambermaids, was making her way shyly and subserviently through the guests and revellers towards them.

"Pardon me, my lords and ladies, a thousand pardons, excuse me, please," Paulette said, almost cringing a little as she squeezed through to Cinderella and Eugene. She bobbed up and down. "Begging your pardon, ma'am, but you did say as how you wanted to be kept informed of these things…"

"Is something wrong?" Cinderella asked.

"I'm not quite sure ma'am, but Madeline said as how the young duke woke up crying, and now he's asking for you."

"Oh dear," Cinderella said. She looked at Eugene apologetically. "Excuse me, darling, I'll try not to be too long." She smiled hopefully at him. "Unless you'd like to come with me."

"Are you sure that you need to go?" Eugene asked. "I'm certain that Madeline can-"

"Eugene," Cinderella said, in a voice loaded with gentle reproach. "He's our son." She didn't quite realise that she'd said that until the words were out of her mouth. Just as Philippe had never called her 'mother' until this morning so too had she never described herself – even implicitly – in that way until tonight, certainly not to Eugene. She waited to see if he would react to it, or if her words would stir a little guilt in him. Neither happened, or at least neither that she could see. Cinderella couldn't have guessed what he was feeling in that moment, his face had become as inscrutable as a sphinx. "He's our son," she said again, softy and tentatively. "And he's upset. I can't just ignore that and dance the night away, not even with you."

She didn't ask him to come with her again, even though she would have liked him too for Philippe's sake. She was worried…she was worried that Philippe would think that his father didn't love him; Cinderella didn't believe that that was true, but she did know and understand that even now Eugene had a difficult time with his son. It wasn't fair, for either of them, and she wished it was not so…but she wasn't going to force the issue too much; Eugene felt how he felt and all Cinderella could do was care for Philippe and hope that – since she was alive and perfectly well – Eugene would be more comfortable around his daughters.

She smiled, tenderly, to try and dull the sting of her going. "I will try and be back as soon as I can," she said, by which she meant that she wouldn't leave Philippe prematurely but she would hurry back as soon as she could leave him. "Promise that you'll save me a dance."

Eugene's smile was very thin, but at least he managed to smile at her. "I'll do my best, darling," he said, before he kissed her on the cheek. "Now hurry along, and hurry back."

Cinderella nodded, and let go of his arm as she turned to go. She paid no attention to the people who whispered as they heard her going; whyever they thought she was leaving they would either find out the truth or simply learn that their notions were mistaken, and in the meantime whatever ideas they might have didn't really matter.

She left the ballroom, and found herself in one of the corridors that led out into the various different wings of the vast palace; it was dark, unlit at present since everyone who was anyone was in the ballroom and it wasn't time for anyone to leave it, and there were no staff in attendance that Cinderella could see. It was often thus, when one part of the palace was particularly busy it left many others very neglected.

"Cinderella? Is something wrong?"

Cinderella turned to see Belle standing behind her, her gold dress luminous in the dark corridor.

"Belle," Cinderella murmured. "What are you doing here?"

"I saw you leaving," she said. "I was a little worried. I don't get out of the country much but I can't imagine it's usual for a princess to leave her own ball before its even started."

Cinderella chuckled. "I plan on coming back, but Philippe had a nightmare – that's what it sounds like anyway – and he wants me."

Belle smiled. "You really do put it first, don't you? Being a mother, I mean."

Cinderella shrugged. "Is there anything more important?" She cringed. "I'm sorry, I didn't-"

"Stop apologising," Belle said. "I told you, I'm not so thin-skinned." She hesitated for a moment. "Would you mind if I came with you?"

Cinderella hesitated for a moment. "I suppose not, although I'm not sure why you'd want to."

Belle said, "Perhaps it's just that you're the nicest person in this palace and I don't want to let you out of my sight."

Cinderella laughed. "That's very kind of you, but rather unfair to some others here. If you gave them a chance I'm sure you'd find my ladies very welcoming."

"Perhaps," Belle allowed. "But I'd rather spend a little more time with you, if you don't mind?" She paused. "Of course, this is your stepson we're talking about, if you'd rather-"

"No, I'm sure he won't mind meeting you," Cinderella said. "Philippe doesn't mind strangers. I'm more worried that you'll be bored."

Belle reached out, and took Cinderella by the hand. "Why don't you let me be the judge of that?" she asked.

At which point, Cinderella decided that she'd better give up or Philippe might have fallen asleep again by the time she got to him. "Alright," she said. "But don't say I didn't warn you."

Cinderella led the way, guiding Belle through the shadowy and ill-lit corridors towards the Queen's Tower. As a tour it left much to be desired, because although Cinderella had learnt a great deal about the palace over the course of the two years that she had lived here – about certain parts of it anyway, some parts of this vast building were so little used that she had still never been there – it was now so dark that Belle couldn't have seen much even if Cinderella had tried to point it out to her.

"I shall have to try and show you all of this in the daylight, or even a night when all the candles are lit," Cinderella said as she led Belle along. "It may not be your palace-"

"Castle," Belle said.

"Excuse me?"

"Adam doesn't have a palace," Belle explained. "He has a castle; an old and gothic castle brooding on a windswept hilltop with gargoyles and cold stone passageways."

"You might it sound so grim and forbidding."

"If you ever come to visit us you'll find it really is just like something out of a certain kind of romance," Belle said, her smile seeming even brighter in the lack of light. "A brooding, gothic castle with my very own brooding, gothic prince to sweep me off my feet."

Cinderella considered that for a moment. Brooding and gothic were not two words she would have associated with Prince Adam. "He doesn't seem to brood very much any more."

"No," Belle said. "I'd like think that I had something to do with that."

"You make it sound as though there's a fascinating story behind all of this, Belle," Cinderella said.

Belle laughed. "Cinderella, you have no idea."

They continued on a little bit longer before Cinderella said, "And so this palace, it isn't gothic enough for you?"

"It's very big," Belle said. "But it's a little…I don't want to offend you."

"Go on," Cinderella said, with amusement in her voice.

Belle hesitated before she spoke. "You must have noticed that it's a little bit flat from the outside; a little bland. There isn't much to it but the size."

"When I used to look out from my window at it each day it seemed like the grandest thing in the world," Cinderella said. "Gleaming like my dreams; it may not have a lot of gargoyles, but to me…the way the marble gleams when the sun hits it is simply magical."

"And if you think so then I'm happy for you," Belle said. "But to me…even this darkness doesn't have any character, it's just dark. Why is it so dark?"

"Because nobody's here, or nobody should be," Cinderella said. "And it saves on candles."

"Very economical."

"I know, it surprised me too," Cinderella said. "I'm told that when you have to run a palace as large as this one some economies are absolutely vital. But I know exactly what you mean: on my first ball here after my wedding, I got lost getting from my room to the ballroom. But don't worry; I know where I'm going now."

"I'm sure," Belle murmured uncertainly.

Cinderella stopped. They were almost to the base of the Queen's Tower. "Belle? Is something the matter?"

Belle had also stopped. She looked back behind her. "I think someone might be following us."

Cinderella frowned. She looked behind her, past Belle, but saw nothing down the short length of corridor that they had just left behind. "I don't see anyone?"

"I know, but I'm sure they're there," Belle said. "I'm certain I can hear footsteps.

Cinderella took a step back, closer to Belle whom she had allowed to trail a little while Cinderella led the way. She couldn't imagine who would be following her, or why they'd be doing it while hiding at the same time, but she also couldn't imagine why Belle would make something like that up.

Her mind went back to that first ball, when she had gotten lost in the labyrinthine mass of corridors. Lucien had taken the opportunity to sneak up on her, and although he had helped her find her way to the ballroom, it had later occurred to Cinderella that he must – or might at least – have been following her through the secret passages in the walls for some time before deciding to reveal herself, and that after he let her call out in a degree of mounting panic before appearing behind her as if by magic. Was the same thing happening again? Had she acquired some new Lucien Gerard that she knew not of? Was someone really following them, and why?

"Hello?" she called. "Is there someone there?"

"It's only me, your highness," Jean said as he stepped out from around the corner.

"It's only us," Angelique said, as she joined him.

Cinderella could not help but let out a sigh of relief. "Jean!" she declared. "Angelique! What are you both doing?"

"I thought it might not be the wisest course for you and your guest to be wandering these dark and empty corridors alone, your highness," Jean said. "That you should come to harm is unthinkable, and if any ill fortune befell Lady Belle then it might cause trouble with her husband."

"And I decided I'd rather wander round with the person I like rather than stay in the ballroom," Angelique explained. She smirked slightly. "A bit like you, I think."

Belle glanced at Cinderella, with curiosity in her eyes as if she didn't know whether to believe Jean or not. Cinderella gave a slight nod of her head, hopefully enough to let Belle know that he was perfectly sincere.

"That's very good of you, Jean, but do you think that's necessary?"

"I wish that this palace were so safe a haven that it was not, princess."

"Is there any reason you had to act like you were trying not to be seen or heard?" Belle asked.

"I didn't want to disturb you," Jean said simply. "I apologise if I caused any alarm."

"That's quite alright, Jean," Cinderella said. She didn't tell him to go back, or Angelique either, partly because there was a good chance that they wouldn't listen and partly because, quite honestly, having them around did make her feel a little safer. Jean was right to point out that this palace had never been the haven from trouble and strife that Cinderella might have hoped that it would be; her enemies seemed to find their way inside with a depressing regularity, but somehow her friends and supporters had always managed to keep her safe from harm and Jean and Angelique had played a great part in that.

If they wished to spend their evening watching over her, Cinderella certainly wasn't going to complain.

She and Belle, with Jean and Angelique following behind at a slightly less discreet distance now, climbed the many winding staircases that led up the Queen's Tower. Philippe's room was three floors down from Cinderella's spacious chambers, but even that was a good deal of climbing to do. Nevertheless they reached it as quickly as they could, and Cinderella pushed open the door into her stepson's bedroom.

"Philippe?" she said, her voice soft and gentle as she stepped into the room; unlike the landing outside, the room was lit with a pair of candles sitting on a chest of drawers. "Is something the matter? I'm told that you woke up crying?"

Philippe was sitting up in bed, his face anxious and a little sweaty. His eyes – brown like his father – lit up when he caught sight of her. "Mother!" he cried, as he tried to leap out of bed but ended up tangling himself up in his bedclothes. "You're alright!"

"I'm alright?" Cinderella asked curiously, as she made her way over to his bedside, thus sparing Philippe the need to try and get up. She sat down on the edge of his bed, and put one gloved and bejewelled arm around his shoulders as she looked down at him. "Whatever do you mean? Why shouldn't I be alright?"

"Maddy told me you were too busy to come and see me," Philippe said, with a slightly accusing glance at Madeline where she stood in the corner.

"Madeline was half right, I am busy," Cinderella said. "But I'm never too busy for you, not ever." She squeezed him gently, and bent down to kiss him on the forehead. "Now, why don't you tell me what the matter is?"

Philippe wriggled a little. "I thought…I thought Maddy might have been lying," he said. "I thought you might have…you might have gone away, like grandmother."

"Philippe," Cinderella whispered. "Why…why would you even think that?"

"Because the three women were coming to get you," Philippe said. "I…I didn't like the look of them, and they had you surrounded, and you were frightened, and one of them said that they were going to…and then they reached out for you and they had long nails like knives and I was really scared and you were scared and then…and then I woke up."

"Oh, Philippe," Cinderella said, her voice a gentle whisper as she hugged Philippe closer to her side. "That was just a nightmare. It wasn't real. There aren't any three women coming to get me, and I'm not in any danger at all. In fact I've just come from meeting some delightful new people. Would you like to meet one of my new friends?"

Philippe nodded.

"Belle, would you like to come in?" Cinderella called, and when Belle entered she said. "Philippe, this is Belle, the wife of Prince Adam who has come all the way from a place called the Franche-Comte to speak to your grandfather. Belle, this is Philippe, the Duke of Morlaix."

Belle smiled sweetly. "A pleasure to meet you, young man."

"It's very nice to meet you as well, Princess Belle," Philippe said.

Belle's mouth opened a little, but in the end she decided not to argue the point, but merely smiled a little more broadly in thanks.

"Now that you know that I'm fine," Cinderella said, as with one hand she stroked Philippe's hair. "Do you want to try and go back to sleep?"

Philippe looked up at her. "Will…will you stay with me until I do?"

Cinderella kissed him again, before she got up and sat down on a nearby chair. "Of course I will," she said. "Now close your eyes, and lie down."

Philippe closed his eyes, and lay down facing her, burying his hands underneath his pillow.

"Mother?" he murmured.

"Yes, sweet boy?" Cinderella asked.

"You know…you know that I don't want anything to happen to you, don't you?"

Cinderella frowned. "Why would I think you wanted anything to happen to me?"

Philippe opened his eyes. "Because…because you say that a dream is a wish your heart makes, but that isn't my wish at all."

"I know," Cinderella said. "Dreams are wishes, but nightmares…nightmares are something else. Nightmares are fears that your heart shows to you. Now, close your eyes."

Philippe shut his eyes again, and as he did so Cinderella began to hum softly, crooning a lullaby that her mother had sang to her when she had had nightmares that made her unable to sleep. She hummed until she was sure that Philippe was sleeping, and only then did she get up, blow out the candles, and leave the room.

"I hope that didn't bore you," she said to Belle.

"No," Belle said. "You're a natural, aren't you?"

"I try my best," Cinderella said. "I…would you like to see my daughters? I hope they'll be asleep, but…very quickly?"

"I'd be delighted to," Belle said.

They went upstairs. The nursery, which lay one floor above Philippe's room and two below Cinderella's own chambers, was – when they arrived there, which was quickly enough – as dark as the rest of the tower and the corridors that they had traversed to get there. The girls had dropped off to sleep when Cinderella had gone down to dinner, and there was not the light of a single candle to disturb their rest, nor had Philippe's waking from his nightmare roused them in turn.

When they came in – Cinderella slipped the rings off her fingers and deposited them on a little table by the door, lest Isabelle or Annabelle swallow them – the nursery was as silent as the room was dark; more, in fact, because although there were no candles lit nor lanterns present the curtains had been left drawn, and through the window the light of the moon shone silver, illuminating the heavy wooden crib where the babies slept.

As Cinderella, accompanied by Belle, made her way towards the cradle, her gaze glanced briefly over it to one of the shelves that lined the nursery wall: this particular shelf was half filled with books, but next to the books there sat a toy, one of Eugene's old ones that he had found somewhere: a wind-up monkey with a pair of cymbals in his hands which, when the clockwork was wound up, he would bang together furiously until the spring was wholly unwound. Personally, Cinderella found the toy rather eerie, what with that overly large grin on the monkey's face that seemed more disturbing to her than friendly.

Still, it was hardly something to focus on. She crossed to the cradle, and leaned down over it to gaze down on her sleeping babies as they lay, slumbering, eyes closed and arms wrapped around one another.

The sight of them made her heart melt every time.

Judging by the sound that she was making as she came to stand beside her, it seemed that Belle was having much the same reaction.

"They're so…aren't they?" Belle murmured.

"They certainly are," Cinderella whispered. "The most precious pair of angels in my life." She almost reached down to them, but stopped herself in case she woke them up. "I didn't know how much they'd mean to me until they arrived. But now…

"What are their names?" Belle asked softly.

Cinderella pointed to her golden haired child. "Isabelle," she said. "And that's Annabelle."

Belle smiled. "Isabelle and Annabelle. I can tell you that any name with the word 'Belle' is a very find name in my book."

Cinderella chuckled. "I…I don't know how to tell you how much I love them. I can't imagine what I wouldn't do for them."

There was a clattering sound that made Cinderella look up. It was the monkey, the little toy monkey with the cymbals, the cymbals that he had just banged together as he seemed to look straight at Cinderella with that manic, almost eerie grin on his face.

"That's funny," Cinderella murmured. "Nobody wound that up, I don't-"

The monkey was still looking at Cinderella as it banged its cymbals together again. Annabelle began to squall as she opened her eyes and shook her little arms wildly; it seemed to be her movement, rather than the noise, that awakened Isabelle and set her to crying too.

"Oh dear," Cinderella said, as she reached down into the cradle and scooped both her little darlings up in her arms, cradling them both, rocking them gently from side to side in an effort to calm and quiet them. "There there, my darlings, it's alright. It's alright. Mama's here, and you're safe. There there, there's no need to worry and no need to fuss."

The monkey kept on banging, and not only banging its cymbals together but moving too, shaking from back and forth as though he was on the march, his body rocking back and forth to create the impression of his legs rising and falling, and still he kept on banging those cymbals together, the sound getting louder and louder until it seemed impossible that it was just one pair of cymbals making that noise, it sounded like a whole great cacophony of instruments banging together, banging and clattering while the screams of Cinderella's babies got even louder.

On Belle's face was mirrored all of the alarm that Cinderella could feel rising within her breast. "What's going on?"

"I don't know," Cinderella said, but-"

The window blew open with a crash as a great gale blasted into the nursery, shaking the curtains and rocking the cradle back and forth as the sound of clattering cymbals got ever louder.

"Let's go," Cinderella said, but as she started – her daughters still in her arms, because there was no way she was leaving them her – towards the door it slammed shut with a very loud and very final noise that set the girls to crying even louder.

Belle reached the door and hauled on it. "It's locked, or stuck or something!"

"Jean!" Cinderella shouted, trying to be heard over the sounds of wind and brass. "Jean! Angelique! Can you hear us? We're trapped in here!"

She couldn't hear if either of her friends without replied. She couldn't hear anything over the hurricane that was blowing all around the nursery, scattering toys and books all over the floor.

And then…then the wind faded and the toy monkey stopped banging his instrument together and there was no sound but the fitful screaming of the little girls. And the laughter. The terrible laughter that sent a chill down Cinderella's spin.

They stepped out of the shadows and into the moonlight. No, it was more as though they had been the shadows but now they were assuming a human form. Or almost human. As the three women – three women, just like Philippe's nightmare – emerged into the moonlight Cinderella was struck by how inhuman they seemed; their eyes were too large, their mouths were too small, it was like a children's drawing made flesh and in the transition stripped of all its charm. They wore elegant gowns of sable and black velvet, decorated with feathers of many bright and dazzling colours in their hair, but always it was to their eyes that Cinderella's own gaze returned: their eyes that were as green as the scales of venomous serpents.

"Hail, Cinderella, Princess of Armorique," one of them said.

"Hail, Cinderella, who was once a humble servant," said another.

"Hail, Cinderella, who has risen so far, so quickly," said the third.

"But hail not Belle, who is Princess of Nothing," said one of them, which the other two seemed to find terribly amusing by the way it set them cackling.

"Who…who are you?" Cinderella asked. She tried to hush her crying children. "How did you get in here?"

"We go where we wish, and none may keep us out."

"Who would want to?"

"None who were wise."

The first of these three women smiled with that overly-small mouth she had. "You have such beautiful girls, Cinderella."

Belle came to stand by Cinderella's side, and put one arm around her. "You didn't answer who you were."

"We have many name," one said.

"The Three Sisters we are called by some."

"The Sister Witches we are called by others."

"The Weird Sisters, the Odd Sisters, the terrifying Sisters Three."

"Though the great age of magic has passed long ago, yet we endure."

"Though Maleficent the Dark perished by the sword we have lived on."

"Though the world has changed we have stayed the same."

"And we have never forgotten a bargain that was made with us, nor failed to collect on a debt which we were owed."

Cinderella shivered. More witches? First Grace and now these sisters three? Was her life never to be free of dark magic?

All I want is peace and contentment. All I want is to love and be loved and to find happiness with my new family. Is that so wrong? Is that so terrible an ambition that I must be punished for it?

"What do you want?" Belle demanded.

"What do we want? Has it been forgotten?" one of the witches said, her voice as sinuous as a snake slithering upon the ground. "And the little children."

"What?" Cinderella cried. "No!"

"A bargain was made long ago," one said.

"King Francis the Fair agreed it with us, that the first daughter born to his direct line should come to us in payment for our gift."

"Rest assured we'll take good care of both of them."

"No, you won't!" Cinderella cried, clutching her daughters closer to her. "Because I'm not going to just give my children up to you."

"We have a bargain with your-"

"I don't care," Cinderella said desperately. "I…please, I can't. There are my children, my babies, my girls, my darlings, I…I can't just give them up."

The three witches were silent for a moment, as if it hadn't occurred to them that Cinderella might refuse to honour this bargain that they claimed to have made.

Their voices, when they spoke again, were sharpened with menace. "We do not take kindly when people attempt to cheat us," one of them said.

"We do not give out gifts free gratis, or for repayments that never appear," said another.

"Those who try to stiff us all regret it!" they thundered in unison, as the wind began to rise once more.

"So we will ask you again, Princess of Armorique, and this once more, to give us your children, calmly and peacefully, and so fulfil the obligations of this house to the Sisters Three who helped it long ago."

"No," Cinderella whispered. "Please…please, you can't."

"Very well," said the witch who stood in the centre of the three. "Then we will rip them from your arms and take a remembrance of you besides."

The three of them began to advance upon her. Their nails were so long, Cinderella saw, as long as knives.

And they had long nails like knives. Knives or cruel talons like birds of prey. And I am the field mouse.

Cinderella backed away as they advanced upon her, but soon she had backed into the wall and there was nowhere left to go. She turned away, crouching down, shielding the crying babies with her body as the witches bore down upon her.

There was a hammering upon the door, a series of echoing blows that made the wood shake and shudder, but Cinderella paid it little mind and it brought her no hope at all, for surely it was simply another affect of the witches to frighten her yet further.

It was working, and they were almost upon her now.

Belle threw herself between the three and Cinderella. "Stop! I won't let you do this! You can't just take two children away from their mother, what are you monsters."

"You will not stand in the way of us again, Belle," one of the witches said. "Step aside, or don't, for we will take your life in retribution either way."

"Retribution?" Belle asked. "What are you talking about? I've never met you before."

"Yet you have hurt us nonetheless, and hurt us sorely too!" one of the witches snarled.

"You ruined everything," another snapped. "And now you'll pay the price." She raised one long-nailed hand to strike.

There was a crack and a bang as the door to the nursery was flung open. The witches looked that way, crying out in surprise, as Jean burst, shoulder-first, into the room. His face was panicked, and then he saw these three women standing over Cinderella and poised to descend on Belle like rabid wolves and he comprehended at once that they were no friends of the princess.

His panicked face twisted into anger as with both hands he reached for the duelling pistols he wore at his belt…but by the time he drew them, the three witches were gone. They had simply vanished, disappeared into nothingness as if they had never been.

Only a dim echo of their voices remained, bouncing off the walls and into Cinderella's ears.

"This is not the end, Princess of Armorique, we will have our due and our revenge."

"We will have your daughters for our own."

"We will have the life that we demand."

"We will have all that we desire."

And then even their voices faded, and there was nothing at all. Nothing but the memory of what they had demanded, and the fear of what might happen next.

"There, there," Cinderella murmured to the girls, trying to calm them when she herself felt so many miles away from calm.

Angelique stood by Jean's side, her eyes wide with amazement. "What in God's name was that?"

Cinderella didn't answer, she couldn't answer, just as she couldn't answer the other question, the most important question of all.

What in God's name will become of us now?


Author's Note: This was the first scene I ever came up with for this story: Cinderella in the darkened nursery, confronted by someone demanding that she give up her children. I didn't know who was doing the demanding or why but I really liked the idea; in part because it seemed the natural next step in the story, what with Cinderella becoming a mother.

And so I'm glad to finally get this scene down and out there.