Versailles: The King's brother

Chapter 11: You cannot Resist the Last Word, Can You?

Philippe
Music rang throughout the palace grounds, jokers and singers paraded every corner of the main garden. For a brief moment, Philippe had enjoyed himself; he had afforded to skip the noble gathering and introductions by playing the excuse that he was still readying himself, which was partly true, but in truth he had said so just to avoid them all. Looking at the gallery that perched above the garden overlooking the festivities he found his brother calmly seated in the highly chair in the dead center, still watching the nobles gather, still listening to their introductions.
'Fool', Philippe thought, ' I hope you are thoroughly enjoying yourself.'
Finding his way to the outskirts of the party, he watched the fireworks his brother had brought in for the celebration and found an unsettling feeling brewing within him. He couldn't describe the feeling, it was nerves, fever, chills, his mind searched for the right words.
'Fear', he said to himself.
Fear, it was. Primal fear. White and orange sparks filled the night sky, the boom following the burst of color bringing his mind back into the heat of battle; the sound of gunshots, screams, and cannon fire. Suddenly it felt as though the very earth was rising from below him, swallowing him whole, a ring in hear ears began and he could faintly hear Louis calling for him, "Brother?". Philippe felt his feet begin to move, he was running, where to he did not know. For a time that was all he felt he was doing, running, fleeing, his brother consistently calling for him in the background of his hearing. "Brother!", Louis was yelling.
The smoke from the fireworks began falling to ground level, wrapping around his feet in soft wisps. Falling to his knees, he began to sob. Someone knelt beside him as he cried, it was the clove and lavender perfume that told him it was Louis. "On the field, I saw a man", Philippe began speaking, " Young, like we were. He carried his brother in a sack over his shoulder, he told me he had made a promise to their mother to bring him home. Would you do that for me, I wondered. I would, I know. But you? I do not know."
"You think because I am King that I am not also a brother? That I may have all that I want and yearn for nothing?", Louis asked. Philippe scoffed, not surprised by his answer, deep down Philippe knew that Louis always had a way to make it about himself; that it was Louis who was troubled, Louis who must carry all burden, Louis who had seen worse.
"Even a king cannot live the life that he would want to live. It is you who may live those moments for me. It is you who truly lives the life yearned for by king", the brothers rose to their feet, "The war rages in you", Louis observed. "It will never cease", Philippe admitted solemnly.
"You mean halt", Louis joked gently.
"You cannot resist the last word, can you?", Philippe retorted, " Go then, leave me. I command you."
And so he did, but for a brief moment, before Louis had turned his back, Philippe could've sworn a grin that had begun sprouting since his jester, now laid plastered on his face.