When Belle met Cinderella

Despite the fact that it was her and Adam's first day in Armorique, Belle had enjoyed a slothfully relaxed morning. A little tired by the journey that they had endured to get here, she and her husband had both risen late, and had breakfast in bed (there were a few crumbs of toast on the quilt) before either of them even thought of getting ready. They had both bathed, but it was close to half-past ten and Belle was still sitting in her smallclothes, while Adam had on a pair of britches and an undershirt that he hadn't bothered to lace up, revealing his hairy and muscular chest to Belle's admiring gaze whenever she glanced up from the array of newspapers that she was reading to take it in, that sight almost as delicious as the breakfast.

"I suppose that we should really think about doing something," Belle murmured, as she turned over the page of a paper called the Breton Gazette.

Adam's laugh was a rumble in his throat. "There's something that I would like to do."

Belle looked at him, see that she had climbed onto the bed on his belly and was looking up at her with hungry eyes.

She stared at him for a moment before she broke out in a snort of laughter. "Is that so? And what did we do this morning but exactly that?"

"I have voracious appetites."

"Who knows that better than I do?" Belle asked, with laughter in her voice. "I actually meant that we should probably both think about getting dressed and getting out of this bedroom."

Adam exhaled loudly as he rolled off the bed. "You're probably right, unfortunately. I should go to the palace today and present myself before King Louis as a representative of the Emperor."

"Do you want me to come with you?" Belle asked.

Adam hesitated. "I don't know. Do you want to come with me?"

It was Belle's turn to hesitate. Although Adam had asked her to come with him to Armorique so that she could be a part of these events, and not simply so that she could haunt their rented house like some kind of ghost or the insane first wife whom he kept locked up in the attic, she was not altogether sure that she wanted to start getting involved at this precise moment. A great deal depended on a question that she could not answer: if she did go with Adam to present themselves to the king of Armorique, how would they be received? A private audience she would endure, to be publicly paraded as second rate before the entire court was an experience she would rather miss out.

It didn't help that she had no real idea of what the royal family of Armorique were like. Adam had met Prince Eugene only briefly and he hadn't made much of an impression; from what Belle had discovered from talking to people on their way to the capital it seemed he had a reputation as a great soldier – which made it a little odd to her that he had decided to help preside over a peace conference – but other than that there was little agreement on what he was like as a man, his personality and attitudes. Some people said that he beat his wife, others that he was so deeply in love with her that he gave her everything she asked for without thinking; some said that he was a spoiled brat, others that he was the sort of man who would sleep alongside his men and get lice; some said he was intelligent, others that he was a stupid oaf. Nobody had much to say about his attitudes towards class and morganatic marriages, although Belle supposed that he had married a commoner.

A similar confusion enveloped both Prince Eugene's wife and the king himself. The princess was said to be, like her princely husband, outrageously spoiled by some, but others praised her selflessness to the skies; she was said by some to be intelligent, by others to be foolish; some said she had come to the marriage bed a virgin, others called her a whore (regardless of what the princess was like as a person, though she be the worst snob in Europe and the greatest hypocrite west of the Urals, Belle could not help but feel sympathy for a woman whose romantic life was treated like a fitting subject for all manner of public gossip and speculation, and a little dirty for having read any of it; was this, she couldn't help but wonder, to be her fate if Maria Theresa kept her word and she was elevated to a royal tiara? Would people start to write out acres of innuendo, gossip, conjecture and insult about her in the guise of news? The idea that the princess of Armorique had slept her way through the capital seemed a very fringe attitude now, but to Belle the very idea that people considered it an appropriate thing for them to have opinions on was bad enough). The king himself was either benevolent or tyrant depending on who you asked, with no middle ground in between. It was impossible to know who to believe, who to trust, or what to think.

I suppose I shall just have to think for myself, and trust in my judgements as and when I have the chance to make them. The prospect did not unduly frighten Belle; she had been thinking for herself ever since she was very young, and the idea of coming to her own opinions without the smothering guidance of community opinion did not unduly frighten her. Nevertheless, all of this was to beat around the question that would allow her to answer the question that Adam had just put to her: how would she be received before the King of Armorique, and ought she to go with him?

The other question, of course, was what would she do if she did not go? Belle had thought of going to the library, to see if there was anything there that she hadn't read or didn't have at home (Armorique was the home of the Breton Lay, the poems of love and chivalry that had resounded throughout the middle ages, and Belle – who found that if you took the time to comprehend the sometimes archaic language then the tales told within could be truly magical - was hopeful that the heart of Armorique would be home to some of the more obscure collections of those marvellous tales could be found here which had not made their way eastward to the Franche-Comte), and then there was a need for somebody – and it was probably her role as the mistress of the house – to sort out the fact that this 'fully-furnished home' that they had rented was anything but.

But as they would be in Armorique for some time, Belle would have plenty of days when she could haunt the library without having to sacrifice any other appointment in order to go there, and as for the furniture situation, well… she could leave that in the capable hands of Lumiere, or she could simply admit to herself that even the idea of doing anything about a situation that, while not ideal, was far from catastrophic, would simply be an excuse to get out of accompanying Adam to the palace.

She had come to Armorique to be a part of Adam's life. It was a little early to start backing out of that now.

Whatever their reception in this land was going to be like, whatever would come next, they would face it together, side by side.

"I will come with you," Belle said. "What are you going to wear?"

Adam shrugged. "Whatever has the least amount of creases in it from the journey, I suppose. And you?"

Belle thought about it for a moment, before a smile creased her features. "Probably the same, honestly." It wasn't as though she had any truly unsuitable outfits – it wasn't as though she'd brought her blue blouse with her or anything like that – and beyond that she wasn't particularly fussed. It wasn't that Belle didn't enjoy dressing up on occasion: she still felt a frisson of excitement every time she put on her gold ballgown; it made her feel beautiful and special and… and, honestly, like the princess that she lawfully was not as nothing else in her wardrobe did, to the extent that for her second wedding – the private wedding, with only their friends and family in attendance, the one that Belle considered in her heart to be her 'true' wedding – she had worn that golden gown rather than the white dress she had worn to her official wedding that had been so spoiled by snobbery and Imperial protocol.

No, it wasn't that Belle didn't enjoy dressing up every now and then, but she didn't want to wear her gold gown everywhere she went, or even wear something in that style every day either. For the most part she prepared to dress more simply and a little more practically than that, and she wasn't going to change that in some attempt – that might well prove in vain anyway – to impress strangers. She hadn't changed herself to please the denizens of her village, she hadn't changed herself to please Adam when he hadn't deserved to be pleased, and she wasn't going to change herself to please anybody. They could take her as she was and like it - or not, just as they pleased.

There was a knock on the door, rapid and a little frantic sounding. "Master? Madame? May I come in?" Babette asked.

Belle and Adam exchanged a silent glance of confusion. Babette didn't often sound flustered or alarmed like this, and since she couldn't hear a mob of angry villagers outside trying to break down the door Belle was at something of a loss to explain it.

"Come in, Babette, we're both reasonably decent," Adam said.

Babette flung open the door and came in, curtsying quickly to both Belle and Adam. "Master, the Princess of Armorique is here!"

Adam's eyebrows rose so high they were at risk of disappearing under his hair. "The princess? Babette, are you certain?"

Babette nodded. "Her guard announced her very clearly."

Adam looked at Belle. Belle glanced at the clock on the wall. It had gone half-past ten, she supposed it wasn't too much for the princess to think that they would be up and about by now. They ought to have been up and about by now, truth be told. Ought to be and yet were not. She was still in her underwear, and Adam was in no state to receive a princess.

"Where is she now?" Adam asked.

"Lumiere is showing her into the parlour," Babette said. "What shall we do, master?"

"Offer her some tea and tell her we'll be right down," Adam said. "If we're not down in thirty minutes offer her some cake."

Babette nodded. "And then?"

"Sing her a song, it will make the time pass in moments," Belle said.

Adam and Babette both looked at her as though they weren't sure if she was being serious or joking at a not altogether appropriate time.

As it was a little of both, Belle both smiled and shrugged her shoulders. "I can attest that it works," she said.

Babette stifled a giggle with one hand. "Very good, madame. We shall do our best until you arrive." She curtsied again, and then made her exit.

Belle got to her feet. "Whatever has the least creases?"

"I don't see that we have too much choice," Adam said. "It's not as if we've had any laundry done."

Belle helped Adam to dress – it turned out that the thing in his wardrobe with the least creases on it was his blue jacket, and the gold waistcoat and britches – before, once she had tied his long, golden hair back, she turned around and allowed him to help her into a day dress of light pink, which it turned out was the most suitable thing that she had that had survived the rigours of the journey unruffled and without any noticeable folds in it.

As Adam helped her to dress, Belle couldn't help but feel a little bit irked by this intrusion. Yes, it did feel like an intrusion; couldn't she have waited until they had called at the palace without forcing her way into their home – temporary or otherwise – as if they hadn't been the victim of enough of that with Maria Theresa and her sisters. Belle dismissed visions of being shoved around – literally – here as well by a woman who pawed all over her husband, by telling herself that, whatever else she was or might be, a woman who had been accused of adultery as often and with so much vitriol as the princess of Armorique would surely be sensible of the need for discretion even if the rumours were true.

All the same, her presence irked Belle; this was their home, for the duration of their stay. It was rented, it wasn't as well furnished as they had wanted or expected but it was their home and this princess had just turned up at the door as though she had a right to just turn up whenever she liked.

It reminded her far too much of the Austrian archduchesses for her to feel entirely pleased at this visit.

Still, it could not be helped nor avoided now; the two of them finished dressing before Babette or Lumiere had to start singing and descended down from the bedroom to the parlour where Armorique's princess sipped tea as she waited for them.

"I apologise if we've kept you waiting, highness," Adam declared with impeccable courtesy as he and Belle made their way, side by side and arm in arm, into the parlour, moving with a slow caution that – with good fortune – the princess would mistake for stately elegance.

The princess started, looking up at them with surprise in her eyes as she quickly put down the cup and scrambled to her feet. "Not at all, your highness, I realise now that I perhaps shouldn't have called upon you without sending some word in advance; but I was simply so anxious to meet you both that I just couldn't help myself." She walked around the table and towards them, extending to Adam a hand – her right hand, on which glittered an engagement ring so fabulous that the diamond alone would have put that which grace Belle's ring to shame even without the pair of sapphires which accompanied it; it was enough to make her a little jealous – enfolded in a white silk glove. "My name is Cinderella, well, Princess Cinderella of Armorique but I don't think there's any need to be that formal. You must be Prince Adam, of the Franche-Comte, I presume?"

Cinderella? An unusual name… but quite a pretty one all the same.

Adam took Cinderella's hand gently; Adam did many things gently; it came from having once possessed incredible strength and from still being a strong man. He took Cinderella's hand but did not kiss it, he merely lowered his mouth until it was near to, but not touching, her knuckles.

"Enchanted, your highness," he replied, and from the tone of his voice Belle could tell that he was as suspicious of this visit as she was, and possibly – they hadn't discussed Belle's feeling of mild irritation, she had kept it to herself – just as irked by it as well. With his free hand, Adam gestured towards Belle. "Allow me to introduce my wife, Belle."

Now they came to it. Now they would see what kind of woman Princess Cinderella was, whether she was nothing but another Maria Something-a (albeit with a more unusual name) or whether she might, just possibly, be something else.

Belle had the distinct impression that the princess was sizing her up, which was all fair enough because she was sizing up Princess Cinderella at the same time, and Belle's first impression was…

To be perfectly honest her first impression was that Princess Cinderella was a beauty to put many of the celebrated belle dames of legend in the shade. Words of the English writer Marlowe rose unbidden to the forefront of Belle's mind: 'Was this the fact that launched a thousand ships, and burnt the topless towers of Ilium?'

No, obviously not, she was much too young to have been around then, but Cinderella had the sort of face and figure that probably could have launched a thousand ships if so many had been required; the sort of face which would lead a host of swords to leap from their scabbards to avenge any hurt or insult that might be done or offered to her.

We may have to tread carefully, Belle thought, with a little wry amusement.

Cinderella was, without doubt, beautiful. She had sparkling blue eyes and soft, strawberry blonde hair that looked so thick that Belle almost wanted to run her fingers through it; she was a little shorter than Belle, but only a little (although Belle wasn't wearing heels while she would have been willing to bet that Cinderella was) and she had a figure that managed to walk the fine line between being petite while avoiding being outright skin and bones like Belle sometimes felt.

Belle had been called beautiful many times herself, she had been named for her beauty, she had been desired for it, pursued by an odious man who wanted to possess her beauty for his own. But Belle had the distinct impression as she looked into those beguiling blue eyes that if Gaston had ever set eyes on Cinderella then she – Belle – wouldn't have had anything to worry about.

Gaston. Thinking about him reminded Belle – as if she needed it – that outer beauty was not a guarantee of inner virtue. Cinderella was beautiful, so very beautiful, but it was also plain to see that, however humble her origins might have been, she was well used by now to being pampered to perfection each and every day. It was clear from the make-up on her face, the blush on her cheeks, the shadow over her eyes, the pearls around her neck and wrist and arm, the extravagant ring upon her finger, the radiant dress she wore. She was practically wearing a ballgown, in the morning, to pay a house call.

If she wasn't doing it to flaunt herself and her position over Belle, then Belle struggled to see how Cinderella could be in any way a serious person dressed like that.

Nevertheless, Cinderella was undoubtedly very beautiful, and even more beautiful when she bestowed on Belle a smile as radiant as the sun. "Good morning, Belle; it's so good to meet you."

Is it? Is it really? Why should you care one way or the other about meeting me? Was she joking? Was Belle being mocked? She couldn't see how, but at the same time she couldn't see why the princess of a large and prosperous kingdom would want to meet her. Belle wasn't able to keep the wariness out of her voice as she said, "Likewise, your highness."

"Oh, please, there's no need for that, either of you," Cinderella said. "All of my friends call me Cinderella; or almost all of them at least. There are one or two I haven't been able to persuade."

Belle's eyebrows rose. She considered herself to be both intelligent and a good judge of character; she was generally able to tell what was genuine concern from a friend from the faux-concern used by those who wished to drive home the very problem they claimed to be concerned about; she was able to tell the difference between genuine warmth and empty courtesy, and to tell both from insult wrapped in honey. But with Cinderella she found that this usual gift that had served her so well was threatening to desert her because she just didn't understand it. Cinderella wasn't being insulting – Maria Theresa would never have invited Belle to call her Maria Theresa as a way of putting her down – but equally it made no sense for her to earnestly breeze in here and act as though they were friends when there was no reason to suppose they even could be. Had Belle missed something somewhere?

All she could think to ask, lest she stare silently for so long that she looked like an idiot, was, "And are we friends?"

Cinderella blinked. "Well… perhaps not yet," she admitted. "But I certainly hope that we can be, and I think that would be easiest if we didn't have titles standing between us."

It occurred to Belle that perhaps she had judged Cinderella too harshly; but on the other hand, if she had spoken the truth then she had other friends and sufficiently close that they were comfortable addressing her by name rather than by royal style. So why would she need or desire Belle's friendship? That was the missing piece, the thing that Belle did not or could not grasp. Cinderella spoke of the two of them being friends but there was no reason why she should want that; it wasn't as if people in this world simply made friends for the joy of it, after all.

Cinderella must have seen something of what Belle was thinking in her face, because her blue eyes became downcast with disappointment. "I'm sorry," she said. "Please forgive me, I… I've never done anything quite like this before; I mean with foreign dignitaries such as yourself, and I was so keen for this to go well. Perhaps we could sit down, or…" Despite the suggestion, Cinderella did not sit down. Instead she coughed into one hand as if she had a need to clear her throat, or perhaps she just wanted to signal that what was past was past and ought not to be brought up again. "Ahem. Prince Adam, Belle, on behalf of His Majesty Louis the Twelfth, King of Armorique; of my husband Eugene, Prince of Rennes; and of myself I bid you welcome to Armorique," as she spoke, Cinderella spread her arms out on either side of her and curtsied slightly. "And hope that your stay here will be both pleasant and profitable."

Belle stared for a moment. Was that rehearsed? It sounded a little rehearsed. She couldn't help but smile a little as she asked. "Did you prepare that, by any chance?"

Cinderella hesitated for a moment. "Yes," she said. "I may even have practiced once or twice in front of the mirror. I really do mean it, though; please believe me. I… I'm your hostess here, and I really do want your stay to be the best that I can make it. If you need anything from me please, don't hesitate to call upon my help, day or night, except for when I'm with my children; that time is precious to me, I hope you understand."

"I do," Belle said, and the wariness left her voice now because this, this at least, she understood. She might not have been blessed with any children of her own but she had been a daughter to a very loving mother and could still well remember what that had been like. "My mother used to tell me that our time together was sacrosanct; even when I was too young to understand what that word meant I understood that there was something special in those hours."

Just as much to the point, though she didn't mention it, although Belle had no children of her own – and that absence from her life was not by choice of either Adam or herself – she could imagine what it would or might be like to have a child or children, and she knew that if she were in that position, in Cinderella's position, then she wouldn't want anything or anyone to drag her away from the time she spent with them.

"For myself, my father was never not too busy to spend time with me… and I can't help but wonder if that's one of the reasons why…never mind," Adam said, sounding a little melancholy but also sounding as though he could laugh at it now, a little, having passed through the trials of his earlier life to become a better man at the end of it all. "You may be certain, high- Cinderella, that I completely respect the sanctity of those hours."

"We both do," Belle said. "We may be your guests, but we have no claim upon your whole life, body and soul." She hesitated, wondering whether Cinderella would consider her question to be prying or not. "May I ask how many children you have?"

"Three," Cinderella said, smiling. "A stepson and two daughters."

Belle frowned a little. "A stepson, but then you only have-"

"Three," Cinderella said, in a tone that made it clear that the subject was not up for extended discussion. "I may not have brought Philippe into this world but he is still my child, and I am the only mother he has."

"I see," Belle said. "I'm sorry if I upset you."

"No, please, don't apologise. And you? Do you have any children of your own?"

Belle found that she couldn't meet Cinderella's eyes, she had to look away, down at the floor beneath her. "No. I'm afraid we haven't been so blessed."

It certainly wasn't for lack of trying on their part, but despite that after three years of marriage they remained resolutely without children. Adam didn't complain about it, and Belle wished that she could tell him grateful she was to him for that (if only she could have thought of a way to tell him without bringing the subject up), and since the Franche-Comte had neither a full and formal court such as was found in Armorique and since Belle's children would never have been in line to inherit Adam's lands and titles they were, at least, spared a lot busybodies whispering about her barrenness and whether it wouldn't be better for Adam to put her aside in favour of someone more fertile.

One of the downsides of Maria Theresa's otherwise tempting offer to them both was that such whispers might start up once – if – Belle became Adam's full wife, and Princess of the Franche-Comte.

But all the same, Belle felt the lack. It wasn't that she was unhappy, but…she felt as though there was more happiness lurking just beyond her reach that she was unable to grasp.

She did sometimes wonder, and looking at Cinderella and her slightly fuller figure now just brought it to the surface, whether the problem lay with her, that she was simply too thin to conceive a child.

"Oh," Cinderella said. "I am sorry, and sorry to have brought it up."

She sounded upset to have caused Belle any upset. Did she mean that? Did Belle's reaction truly trouble her? Belle was beginning to wonder if her first impressions, her irritation and suspicion, had been completely misplaced all this time. So far Cinderella had shown not an ounce of hostility, thrown not a single barb or snide remark their way, she had barely looked at Adam and kept most of her focus on Belle herself.

She had been the soul of friendliness thus far, and Belle was forced to conclude and concede that all of the hostility demonstrated up until this point had come from Adam and Belle, driven by fears that seemed to be proven more and more unjustified with every passing moment.

Belle began to wonder if perhaps they should be glad that Cinderella hadn't appeared to take offence at anything.

"Don't worry, its fine," she said quickly, hoping to get off the subject and onto less uncomfortable ground. "After all, there's still plenty of time."

"Perhaps we should sit down," Adam said, sensing Belle's discomfort with the top. "And try some of the tea before it gets cold."

They all sat, and Belle poured tea for Adam and herself before refilling Cinderella's cup. As she added a couple of sugar-lumps to her own cup, Belle took the moment to gather her thoughts away from the children that she did not have and back towards their surprising visitor. Was it really possible that she had only come here to say to hello? Adam might be a prince and an Imperial envoy, but he was prince of a land that ranked far below Armorique in power, wealth and importance while Belle was not even that, she was only herself which, as she was often reminded by the Maria Something-as of this world, was of little consequence in the grand scheme of things. "Pri- Cinderella," she caught herself just in time, and smiled at the mistake she had almost made. There was something about Cinderella that made her want to smile, to match the princess' affability by being affable herself. There was something about her that suggested that, perhaps, they could even be friends; and that was not something that she had thought about any princess, queen, or archduchess she had met up to this point. "Did you really come all this way just to welcome us to your country?"

Cinderella covered her mouth with one hand to hide a chuckle. "It really isn't all that far from the palace, I assure you."

"Some princesses would have found it too far anyway," Belle couldn't resist remarking, and only just managed to resist naming names.

Cinderella pursed her lips together. "I… I know that I can't really imagine what your life has been like, Belle… but I was just a servant when Prince Eugene asked me to be his wife, and only last year his cousin tried to have our marriage rendered morganatic because someone of my background wasn't fit to be the princess of this country. He didn't succeed, but… I know that this might sound like bragging or vanity but I hope I'm not like other princesses that you've met. I… I don't intend to treat you as anything less than myself for as long as you're here. That's another reason why I came here this morning: on behalf of His Majesty, Prince Eugene and myself I would like to invite you both personally to a banquet and a ball to be held in your honour, to celebrate your arrival in Armorique; and at this banquet, Belle, I would be honoured if you would sit across the table from me."

If Belle looked as shocked as she felt at the moment then she must have looked as though she'd just been whacked over the head with a tree branch. She was to sit next to her? At the head of the table with the princes and princesses? That was… to say that that was unexpected was an understatement; it was something that Belle would never have even contemplated being asked, something that she had never considered that Cinderella might suggest. When Cinderella had brought up the banquet it had been all that Belle could do not to roll her eyes and contemplate another night surrounded by the low-ranking snobs who would put her down as a way of assuaging their insecurities but this… this was almost unbelievable. "You… you want me to sit next to you?"

"Yes," Cinderella said. "I would have had you sitting next to Prince Adam, but I'm afraid his majesty wouldn't allow me to go quite that far."

"At the head of the table?" Adam asked. His voice rose a little as he demanded, "Is this a joke?"

Belle frowned at that. She could understand why Adam might think that of some people, but from Cinderella? Although they hadn't known each other for very long at all it was becoming inconceivable to her that Armorique's princess would behave that way, to them or to anybody else.

We misjudged her, Adam, and thoroughly too. We let our past experiences get the better of us.

What we have here… what we have here is kindness, nothing more and nothing less.

"No!" Cinderella cried. "Do you think that this is a trick of some kind, I would never do such a thing."

"No, you wouldn't, would you?" Belle asked, somewhat rhetorically because with every passing moment she was becoming more and more convinced that Cinderella was absolutely sincere; she might even be incapable of deception. It was hard to imagine, almost impossible in some way, but there it was, sitting before them now: a princess who was not only willing but enthusiastic about the idea of treating Belle as something more than dirt upon her court shoes. "You really mean it."

Belle considered that the missing piece, the thing that she had not understood, the reason the instincts she trusted had seemed so confused about Cinderella, was that she had not accounted for the possibility of sincerity or simple kindness. It exhausted her to consider that it might be so, that so many of her dealings with the outside world had been with the two-faced that she had forgotten to consider that there might be good and decent people in the world beyond the castle she called home.

If being here in Armorique restored her faith in her fellow men a little then it might be worth having come here for that alone.

If she could make a friend too then so much the better.

It was not phrased as a question, but Cinderella answered nevertheless. "Yes," she said. "I really mean it."

Belle let out a little gasp of shock that would not be contained as she took in the wonderful reality of what Cinderella was holding in front of her. "I would sit opposite, and just one place down from Adam?" She was offering Belle equality, as far as she could grant it, and she was doing so without demanding anything in return as Maria Theresa had done; offering it not as a reward for service but as a right. It was generosity of a kind that Belle had not looked for but, now that she had set her eyes upon it, realised that she had wanted it all along, like a dream that becomes clearer in the mind's eye the closer it comes to being made reality.

"On the other side of the table, yes," Cinderella confirmed.

A joyous laugh escaped from Prince Adam's lips, and Belle smiled brightly too because this gift… was it possible that Cinderella could understand what this meant to them?. "That…" she began, halting after a single word. "That would be wonderful! Thank you!"

"Yes," Adam said. "Thank you so much! You can't have any idea what this means to both of us."

Belle assumed an appropriately guilty aspect for the delivery of the apology that Cinderella so richly deserved. "I feel as though we owe you an apology," she said. "We were a little suspicious of you, and now it seems so rude, but I hope you can understand: you really aren't like most people of your position that I've met since I married Adam."

Cinderella held up one hand to forestall anything further. "Please, there's no need to apologise, no need at all." She smiled, and there was something melancholy about that smile as she continued, "I may be a princess, but believe me I've had no shortage of people look down on me for where I came from; I completely understand that you thought I would do the same. You weren't rude, I was too forward, rushing in expecting that we could be friends immediately as though you wouldn't wonder why." She let out a little, slightly melancholy laugh. "As a matter of fact, I might even prefer that you were honest about the way you felt at first; a lot of people have been very nice to me from the very moment I met them…and a lot of those people have turned out not to have my best interests at heart." Her smile brightened. "But all of that is behind us now, and I do hope that we can go forwards to something better."

Belle smiled back at her. "I trust you, although I still don't really understand why you're taking so much trouble. What does a princess need with friends like… well…"

"I don't think it's possible to have too many friends," Cinderella said. "And besides, I would hate for any guests of ours to be unhappy here, and I really do want this congress to proceed and proceed successfully."

"In that case, you may be wasting your time with us," Adam said, with a touch of regret in his voice. "Queen Maria Theresa will not be persuaded of your good intentions by the fact that you were kind and considerate to Belle."

"No, I suppose not," Cinderella allowed. "But if you write to her and tell her that we will be completely fair in our dealings… that's what she's worried about, isn't it?"

"She's worried that this is a cover for a plot to take away the spoils of her victories," Adam murmured.

"There is no plot," Cinderella insisted. "Our only desire is to see this dreadful war over."

Why? While Adam had managed to keep the Franche-Comte from being more than nominally engaged in Empire's war for Burgundy – he had sent money to pay the tithe to upkeep the Imperial and Royal Army, but had not sent so much as a company of foot to join that army on any of the fronts in which it was engaged – Armorique was not even that; while some Gallic nations – Provence, Flanders – had thrown in their lot with Aquitaine against the Empire, Armorique had remained neutral in this war. So why were they now at all anxious to see it end?

"Really?" Belle murmured, and she could not keep the curiosity or, frankly, the doubt that all of Armorique held the same benevolent, almost humanitarian intentions and desires as Cinderella out of her tone. "I… I think I believe you, but all of you? The Queen believes that you want the glory that will come from hosting all the crowns of Europe and arbitrating their disputes, and I can believe that, too."

"I don't care about that," Cinderella said, and Belle found that she could quite believe it. "Perhaps His Majesty does; perhaps the King's ministers care about such things, but I don't. This is not our war, but all I can do is remember how we went to war two years ago against some of our American colonists; my husband, Prince Eugene, went across the sea to lead our forces.

"I remember how I spent every day worrying about Eugene, always at the back of my day. I wrote him a letter every day; even though most of them were thoroughly boring, because I missed him so much and when he wrote to me… it was like sunlight coming through the clouds. I think that's how so many families across Armorique felt, and when I think about how many families across all of Europe must be feeling the same way right now… I want to help bring their boys back home, if I can."

Belle stared into Cinderella's eyes as she leaned forwards. I can't believe it, this morning I expected to meet a vain, spoiled brat but now you're making me feel ashamed of myself, not just for having misjudged you either. Rather Belle felt ashamed for having focussed so heavily on what she and Adam might get from this experience, or how they might suffer from the court of Armorique; Cinderella, on the other hand, had not forgotten that there were great issues at stake here, and that if they did not find a way to bring the battles to a close then men from Gallia and Germania, from as far south as Cisalpina and as far east as Poland and Hungary would continue to bleed and die, leaving wailing widows and orphans behind to fend for themselves. "The things that you say… I'm not sure that I'd believe them from everyone, but I believe you. They're the reason I was so glad that Adam didn't send any men to join the Empire's war."

"They're the reason I didn't send any men, although please don't mention that outside of this room," Adam said. He sighed. "The truth is that we could have spared some men from the harvest, not many but a few… men my age, with wives Belle's age. It would have been selfish of me to have sent them away from their wives and not gone myself and…" he reached across, and ran one hand through Belle's soft brown hair, a gesture that made her close her eyes and smile contentedly. "I couldn't bring myself to go."

"I should hope not," Belle said sharply, opening her eyes once more. "Two nights of violence in our lives was quite enough, don't you think?" She had almost lost Adam on both those occasions, to the fangs of the wolves and the knife of a deranged and violent man; she still had nightmares about those nights, and not only about her own death but about losing Adam too. If he were to go away to war then she wasn't sure if she would be able to bear it.

"Then we're all agreed?" Cinderella asked. "This war should end."

"It should," Adam agreed. "But you have to understand, that we cannot simply write to Queen Maria Theresa immediately and tell her that all is well; she'll suspect that we haven't been as diligent as she would like, and even if she comes and doesn't like what she finds… I must serve her well, for Belle's sake."

Belle pursed her lips together slightly but said nothing. She was beginning to wonder if it was horribly morally myopic of them to pursue their own interests in a situation like this. Surely they should devote all their efforts towards the greater good?

But, on the other hand, she so wanted to be treated as Adam's equal. She didn't want to spend her whole life at the bottom end of the table, only allowed to the head thanks to the kindness of Cinderella.

If they could have both, then was it wrong of them to strive for that?

Judging by her smile Cinderella didn't seem to think so. "Well then," she said brightly. "In that case, I shall just have to convince you, shan't I? And through you, the queen."

Belle nodded, slowly and thoughtfully. "I hope," she began. "No, I think, that you will do just that."

And the strangest thing, considering how she had felt this very morning, was that she meant it.