Philippe
Many times there have been occasions where Philippe transported himself into the past, tonight was no exception. It was rainy this evening, storming, actually; the country, how he hated it. To Philippe, being here was like being held in a cage, only the cage was Versailles, and by order of the King all were to enjoy it and make use of themselves. Meanwhile, Paris, what should be the actual residence of the King, lay hundreds of miles away in beckoning. There were some things to enjoy about this dreadful place, though, for one; the hunting lodge of his father was well kept and considerably spacious, for another, the walls of the lodge were thin, and not only did they allow the true side of the Duc De Orléan to show through, they allowed him to thrive on it. Tonight was a perfect example of such, and it was tonight in his quarters he performed varied acts of pleasure on his lover, the Chevalier. It is rarely ever afforded that one man might freely love another man in any given circumstance, but when one lands the inconceivable luck of being blood to the King of France, anything is possible.
Philippe was uncertain how he came to be in this situation, he remembered only wine, and then more wine, the rest seemed to fade. Regardless, he was keeping up with the act, albeit he found that his mind trialed elsewhere. To his un-arousal, he began thinking of his mother and the night that she died, he recalled that the weather was quite similar to that of the current. Deep down he felt a dark, unprecedented feeling present itself within his bowels, but he swallowed it down, amongst the saliva conjuring with the thick flesh in his mouth.
Holding her hand as she drew her last breath, he assumed he might have received more attention during her dying hour, yet he received none. She spoke of nothing to her youngest son, only to her eldest. He resented her for it at first, but it would come to him later, after years of having the same recurring thought that nothing was to be said of him that, in fact, there was nothing to worry for concerning her youngest. Her concern - and soon his - was Louis, the eldest, the jewel, the shining sun all of France would kneel to. He was the one who would carry the most responsibility and despite being raised on how to rule his entire life, one could easily read on his face that he had feared nothing greater than such a role.
'He was too good', Philippe thought,' he lacks the gall, the courage, the attitude. I should've been King.'
"You would have had France burned to ashes within a year had you been crowned," his mother's voice rang in his mind," you have the bravery of a soldier, Philippe, but you're far too mischievous and lack restraint. You would have ruled on unconscious impulse, and unlike your brother I knew the moment you were born you would be the colt I'd never be able to break into submission." He smirked at the reminder of her comment," Don't take offense to my words, my son", she said gently," Use them. I see in you a great and revered individual of power, a highly regarded general of war, ruthless towards your enemies, compassionate and rewarding to those who fight alongside you. I see you bringing honor to France on the battlefield, I see more potential in you than you see in yourself, and it is only a matter of time before you, too, see this."
"Monsieur, monsieur the King summons you," a guard outside rapped on the door. Snapped back into real time, the guard had shaken his thoughts from him and made him realize how lost he had become. Pushing himself off of his lover - who was more than displeased - he frantically tried to prepare a response. The guard knocked again. "We heard you the first time!", Chevalier called out. "You are to come at once, Monsieur", was all the guard announced.
'What could be wrong now?', he wondered.
"I'll send for a snack?" Asked Chevalier as Philippe dressed himself quickly. Shaking his head he grabbed the tresses of hair from under his coat and laid them over his shoulders," Couldn't eat another thing", he answered, a small chuckle emanated shyly from his partner before he headed for the door.
~
Barging past the crowd of advisors in the Kings room he found Louis in his quarters, shaken up and pacing about the room in his nightgown.
"Brother", began Philippe.
"Make them go away", Louis sputtered through his obvious unrest. Philippe nodded,"Leave us", the room emptied quickly. Louis was sniffing and holding back tears, Philippe put a hand on his brothers trembling shoulder," You held her hand when she died.." Louis said softly. "You had that dream again?", in his mind Philippe felt it odd that his brother had been thinking about their mother along with him, it almost made him feel a bit closer to Louis, they were both there regardless.
However, if there ever was such a deep rooted conflict between the two; it was the fact that he held his mothers hand whereas Louis did not. Louis could have done the same, too, if it weren't for his pride and belief that he was not permitted to do so under the requirements of protocol. As though reading his mind, Louis shoved him off," Have you no compassion? When will you understand that there is something bigger than you!"
"Yes, there is something bigger than me; you. Who permits the king but the king? The power lies with you, believe it.."
His statement seemed to visibly reassure his brother, contempt with the response, he guided himself back to bed," You may leave", he waved his hand tiredly before slumping under his sheets.
Sighing in relief he headed black to the door, thankful that he didn't have to stay the night comforting his unstable sibling. "Wait", Louis said.
Philippe rolled his head back,' I misjudged myself.' "Yes, brother?"
"You are blood of my blood, the only true friend I should ever have. Therefore, I feel I should divulge to you a hint to my unrest; I plan to take France from the darkness into the light, to build a paradise beyond imagination. Now, despite all our differences, there is only one thing I must know in this very moment. Do you have my back?"
Philippe was shocked by the question, but honored all the same. Had Louis finally realized the error in underestimating his younger brother? Had he come to understand that he was more useful than imagined? Philippe had hoped so, anyway.
"Where am I standing now?"
Louis held back a soft smile, then fell into sleep. Philippe snuck out of the room quietly back into his own, and dreamt of what his King had said. What did it all mean? What was going to be his part in all of this? He had not the slightest clue.[written March 21st of 2018]
{Reviewed & Revised}
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Versailles: The King's brother
Historical FictionA historical work of fiction by TheTrueBeguiled based on the BBC hit show 'Versailles'. Feedback is appreciated via comments on chapters and posts on TheTrueBeguiled message board - the author hopes you enjoy their latest work in progress and that y...