A Subterranean Lair No One Knows About
Oct 15, 2008 8:55:02 GMT -5
Post by Héloïse de Chagny on Oct 15, 2008 8:55:02 GMT -5
*Héloïse had watched; and waited. Now, her time was drawing near. She knew it. The time when she would take her revenge upon the slut who had so wrecked the proud generation of de Chagnys she, Héloïse, had borne. Well, just Philippe, directly, but Héloïse had so depended on her eldest son to continue the line of proud Comtes, and now--now it had all come to a ragged end, crumbling to dust. Even her grandchildren were distant, detached, and knew not who she was or even that she existed. The boy, the one who would be Comte by right, was risen to an archduke under his stepfather, and would rise no further, as his bastard half- brother would claim the throne of Austria.
Héloïse seethed at this. The boy who should be the glorious head of the de Chagny family was doomed to be a middle child in some ever-expanding imperial family, and only adopted by the whim of his mother's husband, overlooked by society and the de Chagny name fizzling out as they were absorbed wholly into Austrian society, to some day make matches with those foreign women and then it would only be a matter of time before the name was lost to some progeny without sons, and all that would remain in estate and bloodlines would be silently usurped by the strength of the imperial family. She knew there was no way she could single-handedly return her grandson to his rightful place, to restore the de Chagny name and estate...but she could have her revenge against the deceiving chit who had destroyed them.
She could no longer strike out at the girl herself--it was far too late for that, though her attempt on the roof had been more for her own pleasure than her vendetta; it had also been close, much too close to exposition.
And so Héloïse turned her eyes to the children.
...she could not strike out at the oldest boy.. He was watched too closely...and though part of her was drawn to the idea of her grandson ascending the Austrian throne, she was no fool--in the event that the Crown Prince were gone, no doubt the throne would go to one of the Emperor's distant male cousins sooner than an adopted French brat who shared no blood with his imperial kin...or whatever cursed child which now grew within the girl.
A smile spread across her face.*
"Of course...that child..."
*Whatever it was, it was a throwaway. A spare. Male or not, the child would be doted upon, indeed, out of the softness of its mother's heart rather than any novelty or duty to a prince. If anything befell that child--it was personal. All Héloïse had to do was to get rid of the child, and ensure that the whore who had carried her family to disgrace never bore another.*
Héloïse seethed at this. The boy who should be the glorious head of the de Chagny family was doomed to be a middle child in some ever-expanding imperial family, and only adopted by the whim of his mother's husband, overlooked by society and the de Chagny name fizzling out as they were absorbed wholly into Austrian society, to some day make matches with those foreign women and then it would only be a matter of time before the name was lost to some progeny without sons, and all that would remain in estate and bloodlines would be silently usurped by the strength of the imperial family. She knew there was no way she could single-handedly return her grandson to his rightful place, to restore the de Chagny name and estate...but she could have her revenge against the deceiving chit who had destroyed them.
She could no longer strike out at the girl herself--it was far too late for that, though her attempt on the roof had been more for her own pleasure than her vendetta; it had also been close, much too close to exposition.
And so Héloïse turned her eyes to the children.
...she could not strike out at the oldest boy.. He was watched too closely...and though part of her was drawn to the idea of her grandson ascending the Austrian throne, she was no fool--in the event that the Crown Prince were gone, no doubt the throne would go to one of the Emperor's distant male cousins sooner than an adopted French brat who shared no blood with his imperial kin...or whatever cursed child which now grew within the girl.
A smile spread across her face.*
"Of course...that child..."
*Whatever it was, it was a throwaway. A spare. Male or not, the child would be doted upon, indeed, out of the softness of its mother's heart rather than any novelty or duty to a prince. If anything befell that child--it was personal. All Héloïse had to do was to get rid of the child, and ensure that the whore who had carried her family to disgrace never bore another.*