Author's Note: I deleted the chapters that I wasn't happy with, and I'm going to redo the story from this point on. This chapter is largely unchanged, but it has a radically different conclusion so you should read the last couple of scenes again anyway.

Magic of Light and Darkness

Cinderella gently lowered her babies down into the cradle, and with equal tenderness she tucked them in, together, beneath a soft woollen blanket.

Annabelle started to squirm, although she didn't open her eyes and it was possible that she wasn't yet awake.

"Shh, shh now, Annabelle," Cinderella whispered, stroking her dark-haired girl's cheek with one silk-gloved finger. "It's alright now. I'm here, and I'm watching over you."

Annabelle stopped squirming and fidgeting, and Isabelle rolled over – still asleep – and wrapped her little arms around her sister.

Cinderella leaned on the wooden side of the cradle, tilting it just a little towards her, and smiled down upon the sleeping angels. I won't let anything happen to you. She looked up, and straightened up. "Thank you, both."

The two burly footmen who had carried the ornate and probably rather heavy cradle up the stairs and manoeuvred it through Cinderella's bedroom door both nodded. "Your highness," they said, bowing, before they took their leave.

Eugene remained. He was the only one; all the rest had departed, some for home or bed or both before they got down to work tomorrow morning, some to start work at once or think of some way they could help. In the time that it had taken Eugene to get a couple of men to manhandle the crib into the princess' bedchamber, Jean had dashed down to the stables, gotten a horseshoe from the royal farrier, and nailed it to the back of the bedroom door. He said his mother had told him that it kept out witches.

Cinderella had no idea if it would work, but if it did she would be very glad of the fact; however she rather hoped it didn't keep out fairy godmothers.

But even Jean was gone now – for a value of gone which meant that he was standing outside the door to which he had so quickly nailed a horseshoe; in the brief interval in which the door had been open before the footmen had closed it behind them she had caught sight of him, back to the door, standing sentinel against any menace which might approach from up the stairs – and only Eugene remained. Whenever she wished Cinderella could call Oscar and Penny – her supposed maids whom Jean had found somewhere to be something in the way of protectors – back up, but for now she didn't; she liked having Eugene here.

Eugene approached her; or rather he approached the crib, standing on the other side of it, looking down at their children as they slept.

"They're beautiful, aren't they?" he asked. He glanced at her. "When they're grown they will be as lovely as their mother, no doubt."

"They already are, in my eyes," Cinderella replied, not even blushing a little at the compliment. She covered her mouth with one hand. "If they stay here with us."

"They will," Eugene said fiercely, as he crossed around the cradle and embraced Cinderella, hugging her tight so that her head was resting against his chest. "They absolutely will, I guarantee it. I swear to you, nothing is going to take these girls away from us." He was silent for a moment, before he released her from the embrace. Cinderella could have stayed like that for hours at least, with his arms around her and his chest for her pillow and him squeezing her in a way that would never hurt her but at the same time never let her come to harm; she could have stayed like that for hours but he let her go after only a few moments.

He looked down at her, she looked up at him. Their eyes met. Stay with me tonight, Cinderella tried to tell him through her gaze. Stay with us.

"I should go," Eugene said. "After all that's happened I'm sure you must be tired." He bent down to kiss her, his lips brushing against hers. He kissed her thrice more, once on each cheek and finally upon her diminutive button nose. "Goodnight, darling." He turned to go.

Cinderella reached out and caught his wrist with both hands. "Please stay," she said, as she pulled him to a stop. "Please, I…I need to speak to you."

Eugene blinked, he looked surprised, as though he couldn't imagine what she might want to talk about. "What's wrong?" he asked, before looking like he thought himself a complete idiot. "I mean, so much is wrong, but-"

"This isn't about that," Cinderella said. Maybe this was the wrong time, maybe she ought to wait, maybe this was the worst possible time to talk about this but if she didn't mention it now then when would she? When had she ever benefited from keeping silent with Eugene? She had kept quiet about so many things that had bothered her or troubled her and it had never made a single one of those things better. Only being brave and risking his reaction to raise the subject had ever done that, and so, regardless of whether it was the right time or not, she would raise this and see what he had to say. "This is about…earlier tonight. What you said to Belle and Prince Adam."

Eugene frowned. "I…I suppose that I was rather rude to them; I suppose you think I should apologise? Truth to tell I probably should."

"Perhaps," Cinderella murmured. "But that wasn't really what I meant. Afterwards, when you and Adam left, I tried to apologise for you to Belle and she asked me…she asked me if I'd had a bad pregnancy. She wouldn't tell me why she asked but…Eugene, is that it? Is that why you don't come to bed with me any more, is that why you still barely spend any time with Philippe…is that why I'm afraid you're not going to avoid your daughters too?"

"I don't avoid the girls," Eugene said.

"You never join me for my time with them, or Philippe, even though I've asked you too."

"I have work to do."

"Eugene," Cinderella said, with sternness entering her voice. "You know that I can't stand it when you lie to me. Please don't. Please, tell me the truth: is it because of what happened to Katharine? What nearly happened to me?"

Eugene was quiet, for a moment or more, but the look upon his face was the answer that Cinderella had feared even before his mouth opened once again. "My son killed his mother, my daughters nearly did the same," he said. "My children are born violent, it seems. And as for your bed…I cannot risk losing you a second time."

"Eugene," Cinderella didn't even try to keep the disappointment out of her voice. "They're children. Innocent children."

"I know," Eugene murmured. "And I love my daughters, I really do, I just…you almost died."

"But I didn't," Cinderella reminded him, as though he needed. She took a step closer towards him, and raised one hand to gently stroke his face. "I'm here, and I'm fine, and I'm going to be fine." She smiled encouragingly up at him for a moment. "I'm here and I want you." She paused for a moment. "Eugene, I want you and I want more children."

"Aren't the three you already have enough?"

Cinderella made a sound that was somewhere between a snort and a giggle. "I'm afraid not." She shook her head. "And anyway, even if it were so…I wouldn't want to spend the rest of my life sleeping alone. Do you?"

"No," Eugene said quickly. "No, of course not, but…" He reached up and clasped her hand. "Cinderella, please, try and understand. I almost lost you."

"But you didn't."

"But I almost did," Eugene repeated. "Because of something that I did to you…something that I put inside of you, you were…I almost lost you."

"But you didn't," Cinderella insisted. "I'm alright, and I'm going to stay that way." She had no idea if that was definitely true, or if there would ever come a point where her fairy godmother would throw up her hands in despair and say that it was her own fault she kept putting herself into these situations; would say, like Eugene, that she already had enough children to be getting on with. But if that were so she certainly wasn't going to put the idea into his head. "Do you really not want any more children? None at all."

Eugene breathed in deeply through his nose, his chest rising and falling. "I love our children," he said, and Cinderella wasn't sure if he said it that way to exclude Philippe or not. "But I will always choose you over them. Always."

"But you said-"

"I said…" Eugene trailed off for a moment. "I said what I thought you'd like to hear."

"You lied to me."

"I do love the girls," Eugene protested.

"And your son?" Cinderella asked. "What about him?"

Eugene's face went very still, and he did not reply.

Cinderella pulled her hand out of his unresisting grasp. "He called me 'mother' today."

Eugene's expression did not alter. His voice, when it came, was a little more hoarse than before. "What did you do?"

"I allowed it," Cinderella said softly.

"But you're not his mother."

"I think I am," Cinderella replied.

"He-"

"My mother was never well after she had me," Cinderella said. "Eventually she passed away. Did I kill her?"

"No, of course not."

"Then how can you blame that sweet boy? How can you turn your back on him?" Cinderella asked. "If he doesn't know who his mother really is that's because you never talk to him about her. You barely talk to him at all." She took a deep breath, and when she spoke again her voice was once more softer and quieter than it had been. "Eugene…I love you, but I…I don't know if I can trust you with our children and that terrifies me."

Eugene's eyes widened with horror. "You can't believe I'd hurt them."

"No," Cinderella said immediately. "No, of course not, but…" she paused for a moment. Merely considering this was making her eyes water with fear, terror even. "If anything happens to me-"

"Nothing is going to happen to you, I won't allow it," Eugene declared, taking her by the arms.

Cinderella pulled away from him, taking a step backwards towards the crib. "You heard what Christine said; these witches they, they seek revenge on those they think have tried to cheat them. If they…" she wiped away her eyes with one hand, and found herself looking away from him, focussing on the off-white wall of the bedroom. "If…if they kill me-"

"Cinderella!"

"I need to know that you'll take care of our children," Cinderella said. She had looked away, now she looked back at him, her gaze imploring. "Promise me, Eugene. Promise me that if anything happens to me that you won't turn your back on the girls the way you did Philippe; promise me that you'll play a part in your son's life, and in the lives of your daughters. Promise me that you'll fill their lives with love. Promise me, Eugene, please."

Eugene stared at her in amazement. He stared at her as though he was seeing her for the first time. "I…I've never seen you look so afraid before. Not even when that man tried to shoot you at the political meeting."

"I wasn't a mother then," Cinderella whispered. "I didn't have to worry about the children I'd be leaving behind me."

Eugene's chest rose and fell, rose and fell as he stared at her in silence. "I…I didn't realise you were so afraid. Before-"

"I had to keep up appearances before," Cinderella said. "Now it's just you and me." She sniffed. "I'm sorry, I don't meant to-"

She was interrupted by him crossing the distance between them and enfolding her in his arms again before she could stop him or say or do anything about it.

"I've been a complete ass," he said. "Again."

Cinderella turned her head, and once more rested it upon his chest. "You're a wonderful man," she said. "Our children are very lucky to have you as a father, as soon as you start acting like their father."

Eugene chuckled. "I take your point. I'm so sorry, I didn't realise-"

"It's alright," Cinderella whispered. "It doesn't matter any more."

"What should I do?"

"Just join me, in the time I spend with them," Cinderella said. "Some of it, at least. Tell them stories. Play with them. Let them know you. I…I don't want you to feel as though you have to marry again because you've no idea what to do on your own."

"Please, don't talk like that," Eugene said. "I'll change, I'll be the father that they need and that you'd like me to be. But you're not going anywhere. I want you to promise me that."

Cinderella closed her eyes. "With everything that's going on, I…I'm not sure I can."

Eugene's grip on her tightened. It was still not painful, but it was firm, and there was no way that Cinderella could have escaped it even if she'd wanted to. She didn't want to. She was content to stay there, in his arms, pressed against him, for as long as he wanted it.

And this time he did not let her go.

"Don't go," Cinderella whispered. "Stay with me tonight. I don't…I need you."

She felt Eugene kiss her on the cheek before he whispered into her ear, "I will."


She had needed that. Cinderella hadn't realised just how much she needed that until it was over and she felt…such relief. She'd known that she missed it, the feel of his arms moving over her with furious energy as he moved within her, but it wasn't until after she had it again that Cinderella realised just how much she had missed it and how much she had needed it. She felt as though a painful knot within her had disappeared.

Perhaps it was nothing more than the fact that all her worst fears – that Eugene no longer loved her, no longer found her desirable – had been proved groundless, or perhaps…she didn't know. All she knew was that she had needed that.

Eugene was asleep now, sprawled out across the bed, naked beneath the covers. Cinderella watched him for a moment, so peaceful in spite of everything. Then she turned away, and got up out of bed.

The curtain were drawn in the bedroom, but there was still a sliver of moonlight coming in through a crack in the scarlet drapery to alight upon the cradle. Cinderella grabbed a pale pink dressing gown and wrapped it around her naked body as she walked across the wooden floor to the crib. The girls were still sleeping, peacefully by the look of it. Good. Sleep had freed them from worry and from doubt, just as it seemed to have freed Eugene.

Only Cinderella remained awake, and being awake only Cinderella remained prey to fears and doubts.

She so wanted to keep her daughters safe. She would do anything to keep them safe but how could she? These were witches, powerful and wicked witches if the book Christine had found contained any accuracy whatsoever. Powerful, wicked and utterly malicious. What could she do to stop them?

What could she do to protect her children?

She couldn't even protect herself.

Cinderella turned away from the cradle, and her voice trembled a little as she whispered to the night. "Fairy Godmother? Fairy Godmother, are you there?"

"I am, my dear," the voice came from behind Cinderella, on the other side of the cradle. "I'd say how lovely it is to see you, but in the circumstances…I'm not sure you'd appreciate it."

Cinderella turned, and couldn't keep the look of joyous relief off her face as she saw her standing there, her fairy godmother, her saviour twice over now, her magical guardian watching over her. "It's always wonderful to see you," she said. "Even if it is sometimes at moments that are…less than perfect, it's still always wonderful to see you." Her face fell. "It's the only bright spot in all this. Do you…do you know?"

"About the sisters?" Fairy Godmother asked. "Yes, my child, I'm afraid so."

"Did you know? About the bargain that Eugene's ancestor had made?"

"No," she said. "My business with the royal line didn't start until you met your prince."

Cinderella nodded. That was probably the answer she should have been expecting; this wasn't the sort of secret that her fairy godmother would have kept from her, or at least she hoped not. "Are…are the girls' godmothers, are they?"

"Here," Fairy Godmother said. "As I told you, you will never see them or meet them, but they are here, watching over the girls."

"If Jean hadn't broken into the room and scared the Sisters off, would they have…" Cinderella trailed off. "I don't understand how this works, so please forgive me, can you…can you stop this?"

"Can we make the Sisters depart, and leave you in peace, renouncing any claim upon these precious darlings?" her Fairy Godmother asked. Her expression was melancholy, and filled with regret. "I'm afraid not, my dear. They are too strong; even the three of us working together could not intimidate them or overpower them."

Cinderella wasn't able to keep the disappointment off her face; it was terribly rude of her but to learn that the person she had hoped would have a, well, a magical solution to all of this was as powerless as she felt herself was…she felt her hopes being dashed like a ship wrecked on the rocky coast of Armorique.

"But," Fairy Godmother said. "There is something that your daughters' godmothers have done, and something that I can do."

Cinderella felt hope, like a rose touched by the sun after a long, dark night, begin to bloom within her breast once more; was it possible that she was again to be rewarded with a miracle? How blessed was she, and how blessed were her children. "What do you mean?"

"Your daughters' godmothers have worked an enchantment over them," Fairy Godmother explained. "The Sisters cannot harm them directly, nor can they take them from this place without leave. They will only have your children now if you or your husband, as their parents, give them freely up-"

"I will never do that and neither will Eugene," Cinderella said at once.

"Or if some mortal servant steals them for the Sisters on their behalf," Fairy Godmother concluded.

Cinderella nodded. Mortal servants, whoever they might be, could be more easily guarded against than three witches who could – or so it seemed – appear anywhere they chose. Jean would never let anyone with ill-intent get anywhere near the girls, and nor would anyone else that she could think of for that matter. "I don't know how I can…I don't know if you can hear me," she said softly, speaking not to her own Fairy Godmother now but to the empty – to her – air around the cradle in the hope that her daughters' own guardians were nearby and could hear the words she whispered. "But thank you. Thank you so much." She looked at her own godmother once more. "Are they still here?"

Fairy Godmother nodded. "Yes, my child. But you must understand that this does not solve all problems. They will certainly come for you now, and seek to harm or harass you until you relent and give up your children to them."

"I won't do that," Cinderella insisted. "Not ever, no matter what they do."

The Fairy Godmother's expression mingled pride and concern in equal measure. "I know, my dear, I know. That is why we come to my part: I have a gift for you." Her magic wand, a beam of pure white, gleaming like the moon without, appeared in her hand. She gave a little flourish of the shining rod and lo, there hovering in the air before her appeared a ring of silver, a thin but glimmering band on which was set a sapphire of square cut.

"September child," Fairy Godmother said, as the ring floated into her outstretched hand. "The sapphire is your favourite gem, but it is also your birthstone."

Cinderella nodded. "I know. That's always been one of the reasons why it's my favourite." The other being, of course, the way that blue sapphires matched her eyes.

Fairy Godmother crossed the room, took Cinderella by the left hand, and slipped the ring onto her little finger. "I know that you have many rings," she said. "But this ring is extraordinary. You must always wear it, even to bed, until this awful business is concluded. Because this is an enchanted ring, while you wear it they cannot harm you with curse or by malicious hand." She smiled. "And yes, it will still protect you if you wear a glove beneath it."

Cinderella let out a soft little gasp as she touched the ring, turning it on her finger. "Then…I'm safe from them?" All her fears, so heartfelt and so suddenly confessed to Eugene about what the three witches might do to her, seemed now so foolish, so premature, so silly.

"Oh, my dear, I wish that it were so," Fairy Godmother said. "My power is not that great compared to theirs. I fear that they will find ways around my protection. But you are safer than you would have been, and need not fear so much."

Cinderella smiled down at her. "What did I ever do to be so blessed with you?"

"Oh, my child," Fairy Godmother replied. "Nothing at all, but to be yourself. Goodbye, my dear. I wish that I could do more for you, but since I cannot…all I can do is wish you the very best of luck, and promise that whatever happens I will be watching."


"Bah!" Ruby declared haughtily, as she and her sisters watched the scene unfold in one of their many magic mirrors. They stood in the Hall of Mirrors, in fact, where mirror upon mirror – all made by the same master craftsman who had wrought the famous oracular glass that had once belonged to the Old Queen – reflected their images back and forth in an infinite spiral, reflection bouncing off reflection off reflection, growing smaller and smaller as they cascaded into the distance, never ending, never stopping, always and eternal as the sisters themselves.

Sometimes they liked to come here, and simply stand in the centre of so many mirrors, mirrors on every surface, mirrors taking up every inch of the walls, mirrors behind the doors, mirrors, mirrors everywhere. Sometimes they liked the stand in the centre and watch as their reflections, their beautiful reflections, reflected and refracted away from them until it seemed the whole world was consumed with their own image.

At other times, as now, they used their mirrors as a set of windows upon the world. While their cauldron was useful for scrying out their enemies, and as a way of cursing them when necessary, there were other times when it was better to simply go to the Hall of Mirrors and use their many magic mirrors – Ruby was still sore about the time that Circe had given one away to Prince Adam, to look out at the world during his curse – and see what all of those who might oppose them were doing.

Thus in one mirror they could see Adam and Belle in bed together, in another they could see General Gerard beginning to sound out men as though he had a chance of finding them, in a third mirror they saw Christine Roux in the library, reading by candlelight; in yet another mirror they could see Princess Frederica praying.

But right now all of their attention was fixed upon the mirror that was showing them Princess Cinderella's bedchamber, where to the insult of having to watch the royal love-making (honestly, some people had no consideration whatsoever for the poor voyeur) was added the injury of having seen what the princess' fairy godmother was up to.

"Bah!" Ruby said again. "I've always hated fairy godmothers."

"Interfering busybodies," Lucinda agreed. "Always going around doing good; and doing it for nothing, what's more!"

"So saccharine, blegh!" Martha said. "Listen to her, how can anyone be so…so nice?"

"I'm more concerned with the way that she and the others have gotten in the way of our business," Ruby muttered. "How dare they stand in the way of our rights? We had an agreement, have they no thought for that?"

"Fairy Godmothers are always selfish," Lucinda said. "Always putting the interests of their children first."

"Never looking at the larger picture," said Martha.

"Nevertheless," Ruby sighed. "Victims of cruel and unjust fate as we are, we must battle on. The question before us, sisters, is what shall we do now?"

Lucinda and Martha exchanged a silent glance, then looked expectantly at Ruby.

Ruby rolled her eyes. Sometimes she felt as though she had to do everything around here. "Neither of you?"

"Let us here your plan first, sister, and then we shall know whether to ashamed of our own notions," Martha said.

Ruby looked at her sister out of the side of her over-large eyes, uncertain if she actually just wanted more time to think or if she really did have an idea that she was reluctant to share.

"I…" she stopped. She smiled, a cruel and wicked thing with no mercy or kindness in it. But of course. Yes, of course. Because there were three children, and one of them didn't have a fairy godmother to protect him. "I have an idea," she said.


Cinderella was awakened by the scream.

Philippe's scream, which echoed all the way up to the top of the tower from his bedroom.

"Philippe," Cinderella murmured as she leapt out of bed. But Jean told me that he put a man upon the door. But nevertheless that was, without a doubt, Philippe's scream that she had just heard.

Eugene was stirring more slowly than she was, his wits still fuddled by sleep even as his eyes flickered open. "What…was that-"

"Philippe," Cinderella said. She could hear Jean's feet pounding on the staircase as he went downstairs to the source of the scream. She pulled open the door to follow him. "Come on, we have to hurry."

"Cinderella, wait!" Eugene called out to her, fruitlessly, as Cinderella left the bedroom and rushed down the stairs. She couldn't wait, not after hearing a scream like that. Even if it was only a nightmare then Philippe must be terribly frightened to have let out a scream like that, and if it was no nightmare then…then he would need his mother to make it better.

And she would make it better, she could. Cinderella told herself that as she rushed down the stairs. Because the alternative…she didn't dare to consider what the alternative might be.

She reached the floor two floors below her own, where her ladies in waiting slept. Angelique came out of her room, like Cinderella clad in her nightgown, her face pale and anxious. "Did you-"

"Yes," Cinderella said, barely stopping. "Come with me, please."

Angelique nodded gravely, and together – Marinette came out a moment later, but Cinderella didn't have time to stop a second time – they went down the last flight of stairs to Philippe's room.

Jean was standing in the open doorway; open, but blocked by the dead body of Corporal Adragain, his throat slit and his blood pooling on the floor. Cinderella let out a horrified gasp at the sight, her hands rising to cover her mouth as she stared for a moment at the awful sight, the dead man, the life snuffed out.

She realised that the only sound she could hear was her own breath and the footsteps on the stairs above her.

Which meant it was far too quiet.

"Jean," Cinderella whispered. "Where's Philippe?"

Jean did not look at her. He didn't answer. He never ignored her but now…now he couldn't seem to take his eyes off the body.

"Jean," Cinderella repeated, and when he still ignored her she rushed towards the room. "Philippe? Philippe can you hear me?"

Jean caught her by the arm as she tried to leap over the body. "Best if you don't, princess."

Jean was stronger than Cinderella, far stronger, but she was filled with desperation which lent her strength enough to pull away from his grasp and stumble into the bedroom of her son.

The bedroom where he was not, and nowhere to be found.

The room was empty, but above the bed had been scrawled words in blood. In the blood of Corporal Adragain.

Cinderella let out a little whimper of horror. "No. No, please tell me it isn't true. Somebody please. Philippe? Philippe, where are you?"

He didn't answer. He could not, because as the words daubed in crimson on the wall proclaimed:

We have your son.