Talk on the Way

Cinderella lifted up her hair as Duchamp, her lady's maid, fastened the pearl necklace around her neck.

"Thank you, Duchamp," Cinderella said, as she let her hair fall down behind her shoulders, "that looks lovely."

"As ever, ma'am," Duchamp said, kind words despite her businesslike tone. "You won't want to extend your hair at all today, will you, ma'am?"

"No, Duchamp, certainly not at the moment," Cinderella replied. She has started to grow out her hair a little over the course of her marriage, but it remained not much more than shoulder length, and Cinderella was content that it should be that way: it was easier to pin up for formal occasions. She coukd, by means of other people's hair that they had cut off and sold, seem to make her hair seem longer or more voluminous than it actually was, whether that was simply extending so that it fell down her back to her waist or adding curls to her updo, but Cinderella didn't see any need for that at the moment. True, she wasn't exactly dressed down for today - she was dresses much as she always did, and bejewelled much as she often was - but there were limits.

And besides, it wasn't always particularly comfortable, having extra hair woven into her own with metal hooks. It was only worth it sometimes, and today - with no disrespect intended to Lady Helene - was not one of those days.

"Very good ma'am," Duchamp said, as she put the white hairband over which she had long since ceased to argue with her mistress over Cinderella's hair, to hold it back behind her shoulders. "In which case I do believe that only the rings remain."

"Yes, I think you're right," Cinderella said, slipping her wedding and engagement rings over her white gloved fingers. "Thank you, Duchamp."

"Yes, thank you, Duchamp," Eugene said from the doorway of the bedroom, as his reflection appeared behind Cinderella in the vanity mirror. "I see that I have arrived right on time."

Duchamp curtsied. "Good morning, your highness."

"Eugene," Cinderella cried delightedly, as she turned around on her stool. "Right on time for what?"

"Why, to escort my lovely wife down to breakfast, of course," Eugene declared, his brown eyes twinkling as he offered her his arm. "Shall we?"

Cinderella smiled as she got up from her seat in front of the dressing table. "You didn't have to come all this way," she said softly. "I can find my way to the dining room by now." The smile remained on her face as she crossed the room to his side, and slipped her hand into the crook. "But I'm delighted you did." A part of her, it must be admitted, was a little upset that Eugene didn't seem able to find his way to her rooms in the evenings any more, not since the girls were born, but this ws hardly the moment to bring up that subject.

Eugene smiled down at her, and then bent down to kiss her gently on the lips. "Good morning again, darling. Duchamp, splendid work as ever."

"Yes, Duchamp," Cinderella agreed, gathering up the folds of her dress with her free hand. "I mean to set off very soon after breakfast, so I don't think I shall need you again for some time."

Duchamp bobbed up and down. "As always, ma'am, you need only ring to summon me. Your highness."

"Goodbye, Duchamp," Cinderella said, turning away and looking at Eugene as he led her out of her chambers and onto the landing before the long staircase down from the high heights of the Queen's Tower to the rest of the Palace below.

"You're going to visit the refugees?" Eugene asked.

"Yes, I am," Cinderella replied. "I'm going to call on Lady Helene and see if there is anything that she requires or that I can do for her."

The war between Aquitaine and its Gallic allies and the Holy Roman Empire had been raging since before Cinderella and Eugene were married. Their marriage, the attempts by Serena and Grace to oust Cinderella from the palace, the American War against the rebellious colonists, Cinderella's pregnancy and the birth of her children all had taken place against the backdrop of this great struggle which was consuming western Europe but from which Armorique had remained aloof, attending to its own affairs even as battle raged beyond its borders.

Now the war had begun to turn decisively against the Gallic kingdoms - so said Eugene, and he had actually been to war. Whether Aquitaune and its allies were actually doomed or no, they were certainly doing worse at the moment than they had done. The Imperial armies had taken Paris and were cutting a swathe across Anjou, and hundreds, thousands of people - frightened, homeless, dispossessed, had been driven before the invading armies, finding their way north and west to Armorique were there was no war, and from there to the very capital were they hoped for shelter.

Although she sat upon the Privy Council, Cinderella had no official role on it, but His Majesty had placed the responsibility for dealing with these refugees entirely in her hands.

"Me?" Cinderella asked, wondering if she had misheard His Majesty. "You want me to take charge of all this?"

"You say that with such disbelief, my dear, one might almost think that you had not been regent over this whole country," the King said lightly. "Not to mention sat on the Privy Council since. I understand that you are a mother now, but nevertheless Armorique has need of your services. Someone must deal with this refugee situation, it cannot be left wild and unmanaged, and I believe that you ate the best person to do so."

"I'm willing to help however I can, Your Majesty, of course, but... why me?"

The King did not answer, but rather asked, "What is your opinion on these refugees coming in from Aquitaine?"

"Oh, I feel so sorry for them, Your Majesty," Cinderella said. "Even I had a home to stay on matter what else happened. I can't imagine not having that, and to be so afraid that you walk all the way to a new country to find shelter. It's terrible, Your Majesty, and it's why this war has to end, but until it does the least we can do is show charity to those who need it."

The King smiled at her. "And that is precisely why I wish for you to deal with them: you have a generous heart and a feeling for the misery of others. I doubt they will find a more sympathetic champion than you. And besides, with the men of Aquitaine away at war these refugees are mostly women, with some old men and boys, but mostly women. I think they may respond better to a woman's touch. No doubt they have had their fill of strange men in uniform. And there is one further reason, touching your experience during the American War."

"Your Majesty?"

"The work you did to raise money for the care and comfort of our injured soldiers," the King reminded her. "The treasury will be loathe to spend too much on foreigners, so you may have to go to the people and ask them to give generously yet again."

"I wish you good luck with that," Eugene said. His fond smile softened his words as he added, "I know you haven't had any trouble so far, but it still amazes me that you go out there dressed like that?"

"And how should I dress to go there?" Cinderella asked. "In the old rags that I wore in my stepmother's house. However I dress I will always be the princess of Armorique, and so much more fortunate than they are, so it seems… I don't know, it seems almost dishonest to pretend otherwise. And besides, I think that Lady Helene appreciates it; certainly she seems to dress up as best she can. I think she likes the feeling or normalcy, of being able to almost pretend that things aren't, well, aren't what they are, if only for a little while."

"I suppose I can understand that," Eugene admitted. "I mean, thinking about it, is it really any more absurd than going to war and yet still having one's tea served in china cups by servants who wait upon one hand and foot? Yes, protocol and position and all that, but more than that it was almost about bringing a little piece of home with us, so that we could pretend that we were not completely cut off in a far away land surrounded by hostility and peril."

Cinderella let go of her dress, letting the skirt fall down around her feet, and placed her newly-freed hand upon Eugene's elbow. "You make it sound much worse than your letters home did?"

"I didn't want to worry you," Eugene admitted. "Especially after Father was taken ill and you had so much to concern you already. You didn't need to worry about me on top of everything else."

"But I did," Cinderella murmured. "Every day."

Eugene's smile became a little sad, as he reached across with his free hand and gently stroked Cinderella's cheek with his fingers. "Well," he said softly. "No more than necessary."

Despite the subject of their talk, Cinderella felt a smile coming to her face from the feel of Eugene's fingers on her cheek, the stroking sensation sending warmth throughout her face. She might have closed her eyes, but at that moment she was forcefully reminded that she and Eugene were still descending the stairs, as she stumbled over the hem of her dress and felt herself pitch forward. Cinderella's eyes widened as she felt her hands slip away from Eugene's arm, she opened her mouth to cry out-

Eugene grabbed her before she could fall, taking her by the hand and arm to arrest her, and then, as he helped stand up once more, he put his hand around her waist.

"Careful," he urged her. A chuckle escaped her. "We should probably refrain until we reach the landing at least. I don't know how I'd tell Isabelle and Annabelle that they'll never know their mother because she broke her neck while we were being overly romantic on the stairs."

"I'm sorry," Cinderella said, lifting up her skirt well out of the way of her feet. "I'll take more care."

"You don't need to apologise, I was the one who started stroking your face," Eugene reminded her. "We should probably both be aware of our surroundings a little more."

"Yes, we probably should," Cinderella admitted, as she slipped her other hand back into the crook of Eugene's arm and they resumed descending the stairs. "So-"

"So," Eugene said. "After you're finished meeting with Lady Helene, and anything else in the camp that might occupy you, what then?"

"Afterwards, I'm going to meet with General Gerard to talk about security for the refugees," Cinderella explained. "I think it's terrible that some people can be so unkind to those who have lost so much. All they want is to be safe, but there are people who can only see them as threatening or dangerous." Sadly, it did not surprise her too much that there were those who felt that way; when she had lost everything, the father that she had adored and who had been the only person in the world to love her, all that her stepmother had been able to see was a threat to her own daughters, and that sense of danger had driven her to cruelty. So it was with some people in Armorique now: they beheld the Aquitainians at their lowest, but saw only danger in them.

She was not surprised, unfortunately, but she was a little disappointed: amongst those who had reacted with hostility to the arrival of the refugees were some of her own supporters amongst the poor, the common people who had been on her side even when the whole court had been ranged against her, and whom she had tried her best to help through repeal of the Corn Laws, and through reforming the conditions in Armorique's factories. It saddened her to find out that those who had wished to better their let were not capable of extending their compassion beyond their own class and circumstances.

"In some ways, you're a victim of your own success," Eugene told her, "you gave the people a little more than they had before, and now they fear to lose it."

There was some unfortunate sense in what Eugene was saying; the Breton Gazette, which Cinderella could usually count on to be on her side, had run more then one scathing editorial about her abandoning the poor of Armorique to focus her attentions upon foreigners. It seemed that they might fear to lose her as well.

"Is there anything I can do to change their minds, do you think?" Cinderella asked.

"You could always find new cause to benefit them to work towards," Eugene suggested. "That might quell the editorials, at least, but I'm not really sure you'd have the time or the energy for it, especially if the Congress goes ahead. But apart from that…" he sighed. "I'm sorry, I haven't a clue."

"It's alright, I'll try and think of something on my own," Cinderella told him. He was right about the lack of time or energy: between dealing with the refugees and dealing with the reaction of the people to the refugees, her days were often quite full already, and that was before she had to start preparing to host the crowned heads of Europe, with all the splendour they would expect and all the entertainment they might desire. If she took on much more then she wouldn't have time for the children – and that was not something she would allow of herself.

However much was demanded of her as a princess from now on, she would never let herself forget that she was now a mother, too.

"In any case, I'm meeting with Etienne myself," Eugene informed her. "Perhaps I'll see you there, and we can go home together."

"That would be wonderful," Cinderella said. "But I have to meet with some of the Deputies to discuss the Aquitainians."

"I see," Eugene said, his face falling. "But we might at least snatch some time together before your duties drag you off somewhere else."

Cinderella chuckled. "You make it sound as though you never see me," she said reproachfully. "And besides, it isn't as if you don't have duties of your own for your father," her voice lost some of its humour. "How are things with the border?" While His Majesty had tasked Cinderella with dealing with the refugees from Aquitaine, he had asked Eugene, the victorious commander of their army in the late Rebellion, with overseeing the deployment of troops along the border as the war marched closer and closer to Armorique.

"I've deployed additional cavalry units to the border, and ordered the patrols stepped up," Eugene informed her. "We won't cross the border into Aquitaine, but I don't want a situation where Imperial horse can cross into Armorique and start burning our farms or raiding our towns the way that they have to the south. I don't want any of our people to become refugees in their own country."

"No, of course not," Cinderella agreed. "But why would the Empire do such a thing, we're not at war with them."

"It might be an honest mistake," Eugene said. "There are large stretches of open country along the border where it isn't immediately obvious that there is a border. Alternatively, it might be completely deliberate but with enough plausibility that they can claim it was a mistake after the fact."

"To what end?" Cinderella asked again.

"Plunder for the ordinary soldiers, probably," Eugene replied. "I doubt it would be something organised or ordered by the Imperial high command, but that would be cold comfort for our people who were the victims of the attack. In any case, I mean to make sure that no Imperial cavalry can approach our border without being made aware that it is our border, and that we will not tolerate violent trespass. Without Father's express permission that's about all I can do, but I hope to persuade him that we should go further."

"Further?" Cinderella repeated "In what way?"

"Almost all of the regiments that were sent across to America have returned by now," Eugene explained. "So we could easily assemble an army of twenty, maybe even thirty thousand men at the border, as a signal that we are prepared to fight to defend our kingdom if need be."

"Is that necessary?" Cinderella asked anxiously. "Do you… you sound afraid that they might attack us?"

Eugene did not reply for a few moments, and those moments of silence did absolutely nothing at all to quell the growing anxiety in Cinderella's heart from Eugene's words. Was he afraid that they might find themselves under attack from the Holy Roman Empire? While His Majesty talked of making peace, Eugene feared war, was that it?

She could not… no, it was ridiculous to say could not, she was afraid because she could, and all too easily, but she did not want to see him go off to war again. It had been bad enough before, when he had sailed away to America and left her behind, but now? Would he leave her to take care of the children by herself while he rode… while he rode only a little way south, because the fighting would be not in some far off colony but in Armorique itself.

And yet however much closer to home he was he would still be away from her, at great risk, and Cinderella knew that she would not be the only one in such a position: it seemed scarcely possible that General Gerard would not be called away, and a war at home might even suck in Jean as well, leaving Lucrecia and Marinette and Angelique to bear the pangs of separation – and risks of bereavement – along with her.

Please, God, let it not be so.

At last, Eugene spoke. "I sincerely hope not. They have no cause to go to war with us, we are not allied with Aquitaine, we have given them no military or financial aid, we are not an enemy of the Holy Roman Empire. But…"

"But?"

"If the Emperor wins the war, which is looking more likely now than not, then he will be the master of Europe," Eugene explained. "Rare indeed will be the nation that does not fall under the Habsburg sway, and is not pressed to follow the Habsburg lead in foreign policy, to supply troops to swell the Imperial army, to send their taxes to Vienna. The Emperor will be a new Caesar in truth, the most powerful man since the fall of Rome. Why then, should the man who has conquered Aquitaine and Flanders and Provence flinch from adding Armorique to his possessions."

Cinderella could not suppress a shudder, and almost dropped her skirt and risked stumbling on it again. "I don't want to lose you," she whispered. "I don't want you to go to war again."

Eugene reached across to take her head, and squeeze it gently. "I hope that I don't have to," he said. "If the Congress-"

"If what you're saying is at all accurate then why should they acknowledge the Congress?" Cinderella asked. "They're winning the war."

"Yes, but they do not control all Europe yet," Eugene reminded her. "Besides the Gallic nations they are still fighting, there are countries who – like us – are watching the progress of this war and wondering who might be next, and whether it might not be better to band together now rather than wait to be picked off in detail: Normandie, Albion, Denmark, Arendelle, Poland, Prussia, maybe even Naples and Sardinia. The Empire must be presented with an ultimatum: accept the results of the Congress, or all the power remaining in Europe will join with your enemies against you. They are not so mighty that they can fight everyone at once."

"So then… in order for the Congress to succeed, everyone needs to come together?" Cinderella asked.

"Or we have to be able to persuade the two warring factions to set aside their differences," Eugene said.

Cinderella wasn't sure which one of those would be harder, but neither one sounded particularly easy. "Do you think…" she trailed off, feeling a little disloyal for suggesting.

"Cinderella?" Eugene asked.

"Nothing," Cinderella said quickly. "It's nothing at all."

Eugene frowned. "If you have something to say, you can say it," he urged. "You can say whatever you like to me, or at least I hope you can."

He was right to reproach her. The days when she had feared that with the wrong word, the misplaced gesture, she could make him fall out of love with her – or realise that he had never really loved her in the first place, or simply that she was not a suitable wife for a prince to have – were gone now. She was his wife, his princess, and the mother of his children. How could she help him if she wasn't willing to speak up? "Do you think that your father might have bitten off a little more than he can chew? I understand that if this is a success then His Majesty will be hailed as the arbiter of Europe, but if it doesn't…"

"Then we will be humiliated," Eugene acknowledged. "I see your point, but I think we have to chance it nevertheless. If we let this war rage on… I understand why we did not join Aquitaine in the fight; they sought our support, but Father refused. I understand why he didn't want to get involved."

"I'm glad he didn't," Cinderella murmured. "The war you did fight in was bad enough."

"But, although we did not join the war, we nevertheless risk facing the consequences of the Imperial victory. Which being the case, if we were not willing to become embroiled militarily, we have to do what we can diplomatically."

Cinderella nodded. "I understand," she said. "And I suppose, when you think about all of those poor people camped outside the city, if there's anything that we can do to help them get back to their homes and their lives then we have to do it, regardless of how difficult it is." They had reached the bottom of the stairs now, and Cinderella briefly turned her attention away from Eugene and to the guard who stood to attention at the foot of the stairs. "Good morning, Corporal Adragain."

"Good morning, your highness."

As they walked down the palace corridors that had once seemed so labyrinthine to Cinderella, so easy to get lost in that she had in, in fact, gotten lost at times, Cinderella let go of her skirt and let it fall once more, now that there was no risk of falling to anything but slight embarrassment. "Eugene," she gently, "would you like to join me for the children's hour today, or for however much longer I – we, if you like – can afford to spend with them? Philippe would love it, I'm sure, and while the girls might not be old enough to really notice, well… you could say the same about me. I'm sure it comforts them to know that their mother, and I'm certain that having their father there does the same." And you did say you wanted to spend time together. "If everything goes well, we might get the whole afternoon together, as a family. Wouldn't that be lovely?"

Eugene hesitated.

"Please, Eugene," Cinderella urged, stopping still and reaching out to take his other hand in hers. "I used to love it when my father was able to spend time with me when I was a little girl, and I know that I didn't have a mother growing up but I think that, or at least I hope that, I should have loved to spend time with Papa just as much even if I did." Her father had not always been able to spend a lot of time with her – that was why, before marrying Lady Tremaine, he had gotten her Bruno to keep her company when he was busy – but the times when he did were the happiest memories of Cinderella's childhood: she could remember the deep, sonorous roll of his voice as he sang her to sleep, the half-whisper he adopted as he read her stories, the way it felt to sit on his lap with his arms around her, feeling perfectly safe in a perfect world where nothing bad could ever happen to her, because her father was there. Was it wrong of her to want that for her children? No, no it couldn't possibly be.

Eugene turned to face her. "I suppose that… my father used to let me ride around on his back when I was a boy like he was a horse."

Cinderella giggled. "Well, then, isn't it time you let Philippe do the same?" she asked merrily. Her voice became more earnest as she said, "He called me 'mother' this morning."

Eugene frowned. "Philippe did?"

Cinderella nodded. "Yes."

"And what did you do?"

"I didn't do anything," Cinderella replied. "I allowed it. I'm going to allow it." She made it a statement, not a request, but nevertheless her voice trembled a little as she said it, nervous of Eugene's reaction.

"But you're not his mother," Eugene said.

"I know," Cinderella agreed. "And I was surprised by it too, at first, but… I know that I'm not his mother, but I suppose I am the only mother that he's ever known-"

"But not his mother," Eugene insisted. "His mother is dead."

"And I tuck him in and kiss him goodnight, and I wake him up and kiss him good morning, and I make time for him every single day," Cinderella declared. "Doesn't that count for anything, just because I didn't bring him into the world the way I did Isabelle or Annabelle?"

"It counts for a great deal," Eugene replied. "More than I know how to thank you for, but it does not make you his mother."

"Are you going to tell him that?" Cinderella demanded. "Or do you want me to tell him that I'm not his mother, I never can be, and he isn't to call me it or… what will he feel, Eugene? What will he think if he hears that?" She squeezed his hands. "Eugene, I… I know that I'm not the woman you really wanted to marry-"

"Don't be absurd," Eugene said sharply. "This isn't about that. You…" he stepped closer to her. He released Cinderella's hands, only to put his arms around her, drawing her close, and bending his head to press his forehead against hers. "You have done more, and been more, than I think Katharine ever could have been. You are the woman I love, the wife I chose, the princess I could only dream of. I am so fortunate in you. But Katharine was a part of my life, and Philippe is her legacy-"

"Then tell him about her," Cinderella said. "Spend time with your son and let him know Katharine through you, but don't… please don't punish him for the way that he sees me, or tell him that it's wrong of him. Philippe is… he's my son. I love him. He's sweet and kind and no matter what I always feel so happy around him. I don't want him to be punished for how he feels, I… I won't allow it."
Eugene was silent for a moment. "You won't allow it?"

"I won't allow it," Cinderella repeated stubbornly.

Eugene laughed. "You've taken to motherhood like a ship to the ocean, haven't you?"

Cinderella smiled. "I'm trying my best."

"And doing a fabulous job," Eugene assured her. "Very well, I'll join you, and our daughters, and… and our son."

"Our family," Cinderella murmured.

"Our family," Eugene agreed.

Cinderella's smile brightened, even as she closed her eyes for a moment and leaned into Eugene's embrace. The road ahead might be difficult, between trying to gather the great ones of Europe together to end the war to helping those who had already suffered as a result of the war, but Cinderella knew that however difficult it might become, she would be able to manage.

Because her family would give her strength.