Flight of Cendrillon

Chapter 18: Almost a Fairy Tale

The Duchess stared into the cradle where the young blue-haired prince slept, swathed in his christening gown. The aging Queen proudly rested in a chair near her grandson, watching as the Crown Prince and Princess Consort mingled with their assembled nobility. The monarch still possessed a sharp wit, but her age and health were sapping her ability to participate fully in the ceremony, hence her decision to largely babysit while her grandson and daughter-in-law handled social duties.

Leaving the Duchess trying to contain the revulsion in her throat as she observed the oblivious infant.

Everything had been so carefully planned. The Duchess saw a future for Estmarch, nay, the entire continent, one that the current Queen was too weak-willed to attain. But she saw such promise in the ambitions of the ascendant Crown Prince and especially in the machinations of his bride. A woman who believed herself to have the right to rule over others.

The Duchess never forgot her first meeting with the daughter of a once-noble family, forced to live as a mere mortal by the politics of Westheim. In their conversations, the Duchess saw something familiar – a thirst for power. But where she was content to tug at the levers of power from out of sight, the Princess Consort desired everyone to know of her.

Which only made her a more desirable piece to maneuver, to stand in front of Estmarch as it was cleansed and shaped into what it must be to survive.

A few connections to the Crown later and a meeting was arranged between the Crown Prince of Estmarch and the lady of Westheim. As expected, their mutually aligned ambitions made them irresistible to one another.

And so the Duchess allowed her new pawn to call herself "Cinderella." Never mind that she was no child of ashes – to her, it only mattered that she'd risen from her "pauper's" life to become a Princess.

All according to plan, as the Duchess began to carefully align herself with the coming shift in power. Ensuring her alliance with the next Queen remained strong. She quickly became a confidant, hearing of plots for the future that the future royal couple dare not share with the reigning Queen until after the end of her rule. And the Duchess had been playing a key part in drumming up the whisper campaign that only grew into open speculation that the Queen's ill health would lead her to stepping down from her formal duties in favor of her son. It was all so perfectly planned...

And then the royal heir was born.

She should have anticipated the threat sooner. A royal family had need of an unending bloodline to secure their future and the quick conception of the first heir was a necessity. But the Duchess had failed to plan around being upstaged and soon the balance of power tipped away from her. Her grand plans fell out of favor as the royal family saw the strength of their son as their future, not a mere Duchess.

The sleeping child stirred momentarily, the Duchess trying to plot her next move. He would have to die, but she couldn't simply strangle him in his crib in public no matter how much she wanted to. Besides, even if an assassination could be carried out, he could easily be replaced given the youth and the apparently fertile couple's desire to produce more. His death now would stop nothing.

But was she to merely let him grow, guided into a leader that had not the slightest inkling for the true path of Uralia? A spoiled, sheltered boy that had no use for the advice of his betters? What future could he possibly create?! And how many more like him would be born?

The Princess Consort approached the cradle, lightly stroking her child's cheek. "My dear son, someday you'll be Prince Charming..."

Always the fairy tale.