#'royaume' and 'florence' are ever-so-slightly references to france and italy during the renaissance

[carewyncromwell]

Part two of the Cinderella AU! A few notes, just before we get started --

Although this story’s setting includes magic and fictional countries, its overall aesthetic is strongly based on the early Renaissance, most specifically 1550′s France and Italy, around the time of the Italian Wars. Therefore the palace of Royaume where Carewyn works is very evocative of French palaces such as Versailles and the Chateau de Chambord -- this room she’s pictured in above, in particular, is based on the Queen’s Chambers in Versailles. In this written section and in the picture of Orion above, we also see a secret passage in the palace of Florence, based off Italy’s Palazzo Vecchio, which also features an entire maze of passages. As another example, Orion’s real first name, “Cosimo,” is an Italian derivative of the name Cosmas, meaning “order” or “decency.” One of the most well-known historical bearers of the name was Cosimo de Medici, who founded the Medici political dynasty in the real-world Italian province of Florence and was a large patron of the arts during the Renaissance. “Henri,” Andre’s real first name, likewise references King Henry II of France.

Because this is a more fantasy-based setting, the songs Carewyn sings won’t just have historical links, but might also be references to other Cinderella adaptations. In this case, “The Sweetest Sounds” was originally written for Rodgers and Hammerstein’s play No Strings, but was later featured in the 1997 film adaptation of Rodgers and Hammerstein’s Cinderella. (Which, for the record, is one of the best Cinderella adaptations ever made -- go watch it.) “Sing Sweet Nightingale” is from Disney’s original animated version of Cinderella, which -- fun fact -- just like Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs made thirteen years earlier in 1937, saved the studio from bankruptcy. Sonnet 29 by William Shakespeare is slightly anachronistic here, as even if it’s from the Renaissance, it was likely published in the 1590′s...but I think if you read the words, you might see why I included that musical cover for Carewyn in this AU.

Carewyn, even in her canon, does have unusually narrow feet! Her size is an 8 narrow. It’s a problem that my maternal grandmother struggled with her entire life, especially while growing up during the Great Depression.

Previous part is here -- full tag is here -- and featuring in this part alongside many HPHM characters is Katriona “KC” Cassiopeia, who belongs to my friend @kc-needs-coffee! Make sure to send some love her way, yes?

x~x~x~x

Within several weeks, Carewyn had settled into life at the palace of Royaume. Although the workload was a lot more extensive than it was at home simply due to the amount of beds she had to make, floors she had to sweep and wash, surfaces she had to polish, and rooms she had to clean, it was truthfully a lot more pleasant of a work environment for Carewyn. She didn’t mind working hard or having high expectations put upon her -- at least she could do her work in peace, without her vile cousins going out of their way to walk right across the floor she’d just finished cleaning with dirty shoes so she’d have to start all over again.

One thing Carewyn did notice, however, was that the castle staff was rather limited, for how large the palace was. She saw a few other maidservants in passing, but by and large, she ended up cleaning entire wings of the castle by herself. Yet she never complained, and that only endeared her more to the royal family and the castle staff. There were times when the royal chamberlain -- an elderly, but sharp-eyed man with a full white beard named Albus Dumbledore -- amusedly remarked that the maidservant must have a kind of magic all her own, for her to get so much done without any help. Although Dumbledore himself meant it metaphorically, it was a rumor that flitted through the palace more seriously among the rest of the staff. After all, how else could someone so tiny reach the crystal chandeliers well enough to clean them better than anyone else had, all by herself? One such person who heard the rumors was castle guard Bill Weasley, and he found out the answer to that question one day on his way back from a meeting with the King and Queen.

Upon catching the sound of someone singing a familiar tune on the other side of a closed door, Bill curiously opened it and peeked into the Queen’s bedchambers. There he found tiny ginger-haired Carewyn balancing on top of the decorated mantle along the wall so that she could polish the crystal chandelier by hand. She’d tied up the long skirt of her burnt-orange-and-beige dress with her red hair ribbon just enough that she wouldn’t have to worry about tripping, showing off a pair of very worn, slightly-too-big cloth slippers. Even though she was dressed in a maidservant’s uniform with her hair loose and was in a position no noble lady would be caught dead in, her face was made-up and she balanced on the edge of the mantle with remarkable grace.

Once Bill got over his initial surprise, the castle guard couldn’t help but grin in both amusement and a bit of admiration. When Carewyn caught sight of Bill in the doorframe, she froze like a startled cat and her song immediately died in her throat.

“It’s all right!” said Bill. “Don’t stop on my account.”

Carewyn didn’t respond, instead just watching the taller man carefully as she lowered her hand and cleaning cloth from the chandelier. Sensing her nerves despite her stoic expression, Bill offered her a gentler smile.

“Would you like me to get you a ladder?” he asked.

Carewyn’s eyes drifted away, as was often the case when she was uncomfortable, but her expression remained proud.

“No, thank you,” she said quietly. “I can manage.”

Bill walked over and extended a hand to her. “At least let me offer you some help getting down.”

Carewyn looked down at his hand and then up at his face. Her expression softening ever-so-slightly, she came down into a seated position on the mantle, accepted his hand, and then leapt nimbly down into a nearby chair and back down to the floor.

“Thank you, sir,” she said politely.

“No problem,” said Bill with a full smile of his own. “Only, no need to call me ‘sir.’ The name’s Bill -- Bill Weasley, of his Majesty’s guard. And you’d be Carewyn, right?”

Carewyn raised an eyebrow at him as she bent down and untied the red ribbon from her skirt.

“Do I already have such a reputation that it precedes me?”

Bill laughed. “Wow, that’s some upper-crust-level talk! I guess people are right to call you ‘the little lady.’”

He grinned a bit more mischievously. “I have to admit, though...I didn’t reckon I’d find someone called that climbing up into such high places with so little effort. Weren’t you scared of falling?”

Carewyn tied her hair back into a modest ponytail, her gaze once again absently drifting away toward the corner of the room.

“Not particularly. I used to have to climb up on the counters in the kitchen, when ere I had to clean above the cabinets. And the tower windows were too high for me to reach, so I’d have to climb on the furniture and then up onto the windowsills to wash them.”

Bill raised his eyebrows, looking both surprised and slightly impressed. “Didn’t have a ladder then, either?”

“Not one I could access, or that anyone would give me, were I to ask. But it was truly not that much trouble,” she added quickly, seeing Bill’s face. “They were things that needed doing, and I was the only one to do them -- so I found a way.”

Carewyn dipped her cleaning cloth in a bucket of water on the floor, wringing it dry before returning to the mantle to clean it.

Bill glanced around the Queen’s Chambers. Carewyn had temporarily moved a marble bust, vase, and candelabra that no doubt were on the mantle to the floor so she could climb up and clean, but otherwise the room was pristine, with everything from the bed linens to the floor looking like it had never been touched.

Bill looked back at Carewyn, who’d had to go up onto her tiptoes to better reach the back of the mantle. The castle guard couldn’t help but notice how her too-large shoes kept sliding off her feet and frowned slightly.

“...What size do you wear?” he asked before he could stop himself.

Carewyn looked up, startled. Bill flushed, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

“It’s just -- I noticed your shoes don’t fit. Reckon that might be uncomfortable, and it’s probably not safe, if you’re climbing up on stuff, either. And well, you’re kind of around my mum and sister’s size -- so maybe one of them might have a pair of old shoes that might fit better...”

Carewyn’s surprise slowly melted away -- she actually looked rather touched.

“Thank you,” she said, “but I’m afraid shoes have never fit that well for me, even when they are the right size. They’re always too wide for my feet. My mother used to save up to have a cobbler measure my feet and make a nice pair of shoes fit to size when I was young...but it was always rather expensive even for a child’s shoes, and it just wasn’t practical.”

She rubbed a particular spot on the mantle until it was shining again.

“Fortunately his Highness shares your concerns,” she said without turning around. “He’s actually nearly finished making a pair for me himself.”

“Really?” said Bill, surprised.

“Yes -- though I think it’s because these shoes so thoroughly offended his aesthetic sensibilities,” Carewyn added with a wry smile.

Bill burst out laughing. “That sounds about right!”

Carewyn finished polishing the mantle and set about returning the candelabra to its original spot, going up onto her tiptoes and sliding it back into place. Before she could reach the bust, Bill had strolled over and picked it up, putting it back on the mantle for her.

“Does it go here?” he asked.

Once she’d recovered from her surprise, Carewyn offered the tall guard a grateful smile.

“...Just a little to the left.”

She picked up the vase off the floor, and Bill took it from her and put it up on the mantle too.

From that day on, Bill Weasley was Carewyn’s friend. In the following weeks, he was joined by Bill’s brother Charlie, who served as a castle carpenter. When Charlie came up to fix the door on an ornate armoire in one of the guest suites, he collided with Carewyn, who was making the bed. The two ended up working side by side, talking and singing songs to pass the time. The cheeriness of Carewyn’s singing also helped her earn the friendship of the court artist Badeea Ali, who started positioning herself beside open windows or hallways so that she could listen to Carewyn singing while she worked on her paintings. Before long, it wasn’t too uncommon to catch Carewyn singing a song and Charlie and Badeea echoing it from other rooms a ways away.

“Oh sing, sweet nightingale...sing, sweet nightingale...”

The royal family of Royaume soon grew accustomed to hearing Carewyn singing while they went about their business too. The prince’s second cousin, the Lady Katriona Cassiopeia, in particular, was pleasantly surprised when she realized Carewyn (who’d been washing the library windows at the time) was singing a sonnet from a book she’d read, and the two ended up having a very nice conversation about both the sonnet and other books that they’d read and enjoyed. Andre took to leaving doors open so that he could catch Carewyn singing whenever he was walking from room to room, though his fencing instructor Erika Rath would rather pointedly slam the door closed to shut out all sound while they were training.

“No distractions, Prince Henri,” Erika said rather bluntly.

Andre deflated slightly. Andre’s current opponent -- a stocky, strong-shouldered noblewoman with auburn hair, dark blue eyes and copious freckles dressed in formal fencing gear -- immediately lashed out with her blade, and Andre was forced to block her.

“She’s right, Andre. Carewyn has a lovely voice, I know...but if you’re going to end up on the battlefield at any point, you can’t afford to get complacent.”

Andre gave an over-dramatic sigh. “‘If’ I do...KC, you know I never get to go anywhere -- ”

“And that’s probably just as well,” Lady Katriona, or KC, said levelly, before adding a bit more sourly under her breath, “considering they’ll have all the more reason to retaliate, after the hit we put out on their previous Crown Prince...”

“It was an eye for an eye, as far as I’m concerned,” said Erika rather bluntly. “Our King was killed first -- by a witch they protected, may I add.”

“Heated emotions don’t make for successful war strategy,” KC reminded her.

She and Andre parried their swords, but it didn’t take long for Andre to disarm her.

"Oh, for heaven’s sake -- ” KC swore under her breath.

“My turn,” said Erika dryly.

Her and Andre’s fight was much more aggressive and skilled from the off-set -- Erika was clearly very talented with a blade.

“What would you have proposed then, coz?” Andre asked KC over his shoulder. “I’m not saying I approve of it...but Father chose that plan with the thought that it would dishearten Florence and make them reluctant to keep fighting.”

“Yes, but a lack of strong leadership also makes predicting the enemy’s next moves that much harder,” KC said as she sat herself down in a nearby chair. “Florence’s new heir may be the king’s son, but he’s the child of a peasant, born out of wedlock -- a bastard, who by all accounts was raised in poverty...and therefore someone who likely doesn’t know the in’s and out’s of court politics and could very well end up becoming a pawn in someone else’s chess match. And that someone else definitely won’t be us.”

“A shame it can’t be -- ow!”

Erika successfully disarmed Andre by smacking his hand hard with the hilt of her sword. Even while nursing his hand, though, the Crown Prince of Royaume was smiling.

“Damn -- good show, Erika.”

Meanwhile, in the palace of Florence, the entire royal court had been assembled for a meeting. While the King led his troops in battle, the court wished to discuss a possible military strategy that Florence’s new heir, Prince Cosimo Orion Amari, could then employ on the front lines.

The man with the most authority and investment in the proceedings was the Lord Lucius Malfoy, who was not only the wealthiest royal courtier, but also the most connected -- and he had a proposal to end the War once and for all.

“Our enemies have shown time and again how much they fear the magical arts,” said Lord Malfoy. His voice was sardonic and well-articulated enough to linger on certain consonants. “It’s the one tool they are too cowardly to use -- and when we have the potential for such power at our disposal, would it not be prudent to use it to end the War once and for all?”

The courtiers murmured amongst themselves. Orion glanced around the table. His associates -- Sir Murphy McNully and Lady Skye Parkin -- were both frowning deeply from their seats on either side of him, but the few noblemen who looked wary of Lord Malfoy’s suggestion seemed too afraid to speak in opposition to it.

Orion’s hands clasped in front of him on the table as he surveyed the blond-haired Lord calmly.

"I didn’t know we were turning away any magical aid that had been offered to us,” he said. “Lady Haywood has saved many lives, with her potion remedies. And Master Snape has conjured very impressive illusions, to hide our troops during retreats.”

Orion inclined his head respectfully to the black-dressed court magician standing off to the side. There was a satisfied glint in the man’s black eyes, but otherwise his face remained very stony.

“No one is discounting Severus’s talents,” said Lord Malfoy, inclining his head a bit more curtly in Snape’s direction, “but it seems there is far more that one could do with it. However short-lasting the effects are, magic can still make a dramatic impact and potentially cause lasting damage...”

“Damage?” repeated Orion, his level voice never rising even though his eyebrows did. “Lord Malfoy, I’m no magician...but if I’m not mistaken, magic’s central purpose is to protect, not to harm. Isn’t that why we shielded the fugitive from Royaume so many years ago, when she was first accused of murdering their King?”

Lord Malfoy gave a smile that didn’t touch his gray eyes in the slightest. “In principle, yes -- but there are magics that are more aggressive, and more powerful.”

“Dark magic, do you mean?” asked Orion, his eyes narrowing ever-so-slightly.

Lord Malfoy reacted dismissively. “The Royaumanians already see all magic as black magic -- even the weaker kinds we use now. Does it really matter how they view our methods, particularly if it helps us achieve peace? And truly, can one really argue that we wouldn’t be protecting our nation -- our people -- our way of life -- by attacking full-force? The best defense is a strong offense...and don’t we want this conflict to come to an end quickly, before even more of what we hold dear is lost?”

“You mean like your wealth?” Skye couldn’t stop herself from muttering sourly under her breath in Orion’s ear.

Orion shot her a muted warning look out the side of his eye, before turning his focus back to Lord Malfoy.

“...You make a good argument, Lord Malfoy,” he said quietly. “However...I do not think the King would approve of any strategy that involves the use of dark magic. And both you and I must respect the King’s wishes.”

Lord Malfoy looked incredibly displeased.

“Prince Cosimo,” he said, his lips once again curled up in a cold smile as his gray eyes bore into Orion, “the King is a bit stuck in his ways -- you needn’t follow his will simply because it’s his -- ”

“I never said I was,” Orion cut him off very calmly.

He rose to his feet.

“Thank you all for your time. This meeting is adjourned.”

Lord Malfoy’s lip curled, but he nonetheless was forced to respectfully incline his head as Orion left the room, Skye walking and McNully rolling in his wheeled chair behind him.

“He’s getting bolder,” growled Skye. “He’d only ever hint that we should use dark magic before...”

“I daresay he thought the odds of success would be higher with you than with the King,” said McNully. “Which, yes, I suppose they were...but not high enough that I would’ve risked it.”

“That’s because you know me, McNully,” Orion said patiently. “Lord Malfoy does not. And for now, I’m content to let him underestimate me.”

“Don’t underestimate him either, though, Orion,” McNully warned him under his breath. “Lord Malfoy has a lot of influence over the court. I’d say a good 49% of them are in his pocket financially, and he’s scared another 39% of them into line through other means. And even if you’re heir now, you’re still not safe.”

“Right,” said Skye, her narrowed eyes more openly grim and anxious. “There are a lot of those creeps who don’t even feel like you’re worthy of being here. You should hear the things they call you behind your back -- ‘the Bastard Prince’  -- ‘the Royal Tramp’ -- ‘the Spare Heir’ -- ”

She looked like she wanted to spit nails, but Orion looked remarkably unfazed.

“I can’t control what other people think of me, only what I myself do,” he said levelly. “All I can hope is that by bringing the War to an end on my terms, in a way that brings balance and heals old wounds, I can prove cynical people like Lord Malfoy wrong. Peace is a plant that must be given the space, water, and sunshine needed to grow -- cruelty can’t cultivate a field, however much force might be used to plow it.”

The three had reached a certain hallway. Orion stopped in the middle of it, his black eyes darting from side to side to check that they were alone, before he approached the wall, just between a set of oil paintings.

Skye and McNully both sighed out of frustration and amusement.

“Sneaking out again?” said McNully.

Orion smiled. “Yes. I still seek openings in the wall built around Royaume’s heart -- and just as with individuals, the only way to know a group of people is to be among them.”

He lifted part of the wall aside to reveal a secret door, which he propped open enough to walk behind and start up the exposed stone staircase.

“And I suppose you just expect us to look the other way while you hightail it off into enemy territory again?” asked Skye, her own lips curled up in a smirk.

Orion’s black eyes glittered with mischief and his free hand came up to unbutton the stifling collars of his navy blue doublet and white undershirt as he let the door fall closed behind him.

McNully’s eyes rolled up toward the ceiling. “I’d better go get the coach ready so I can follow him.”

#hphm #hogwarts mystery #cinderella au #my art #my writing #carewyn cromwell #orion amari #bill weasley #charlie weasley #badeea ali #skye parkin #murphy mcnully #katriona cassiopeia #lucius malfoy #penny haywood #severus snape #yes orion's wearing his canon necklace under his doublet! X3 #and I friggin' love him in a ponytail jiiiiii #next part: we'll get to see more of carewyn's family the cromwells and learn more about both her friends outside the palace and her history #and of course orion and carewyn will collide again soon as if there was any question of that #funnily enough I also used to climb up on the counters a lot though it was often to fetch things from the top shelf I couldn't reach #I always gave my mum a heart attack XDDD #even in canon I see little!carewyn doing it when she got home before her mum and had to look after herself at home for an hour or so #god I hate doing backgrounds DX