Rebel/Troublemaker

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Fernand smiled, laughing with her. “I’m really glad it looked like rain too.” He had felt a surge of emotion, a heat spreading through his chest. “We could just stay here if we want.” He snuggled up against her, rubbing a hand over her back. “I’m glad we waited.” He felt tired, but he already wanted her again. He couldn’t imagine being with anyone else. 

She smirked at him and shook her head. “As if we could ever be complacent.” Maybe she was imagining that something was wrong. Fernand seemed normal and she didn’t want to cheat and search through his head like she normally would. She trusted Fernand and that meant no mind reading.

“Who he? Henri? He’s alright.” She shrugged. He was still a boy and she had other things to worry about other than boys. She snorted at his suggestion and shook her head. “Take me out? You realize that bars for me usually consist of drunk people thinking too loud and at least half of the room thinking about sex right?” She took a sip of her tea. “Thanks for the offer, but I think I’m fine on my own.”

“I’m not that hungry myself. I think I’ll just have a croque monsieur.” She smiled at his suggestion for desert and was about to respond when she noticed the sudden expression change on his face. She turned to where he was looking and noticed a man who’s thoughts were about as inappropriate as she figured they would me. When their eyes met, she flipped him off and said, “Go home to your wife, branleur.” She turned back to her brother and took a moment to remember what he had asked her. “Fine I think. Most of the crowd still buys what we’re doing.”

He chuckled a little, “Maybe I’ll have to go find a bar where they’re all sleepy drunks first.” But that wasn’t right. It wouldn’t be really appropriate for him to sneak her out of the house, a young girl like her hanging around Parisian bars after dark. Fernand blinked, shaking his head. He didn’t care about going out with Simone, why did he think that? He thought it was stupid how he could go out and enjoy himself but Simone was expected to stay at home. 

Then he was confused when he got irritated in her treatment to the man who had been ogling her. She shouldn’t anger him, why couldn’t she just ignore it and stop causing a fuss? He spoke low, “Do you have to be so... forward about that? I can just deal with it.” 

The Queen was safe. But even that didn’t seem as important as Fernand being right here with her. “I want to. I miss you every minute we’re not together.” She tugged on his hand, wanting him to lie down next to her. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew it wasn’t a good idea, but she wasn’t paying any attention to that. 

“Are you surprised? I beat you, didn’t I?” Marie felt more like herself as she teased him. He was the only man she knew who wouldn’t be offended by that. “It was either I get hurt, or the Queen. There was no choice there, not for me.” She would have sacrificed herself for her friend should it have come to that. Realising he might not like that fact, she squeezed his hand again. “I am glad to see you. I thought it was just another of my dreams.” 

He slowly moved next to her, not wanting to accidentally hurt her more. “You are one of the strongest people I know.” He rested his hand gently across her, watching to make sure she didn’t wince. “I’ve dreamt of you too. You’re too wonderful to only think about while I’m awake.”

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Marie slept through the physican’s inspection of her wound. She slept through the Queen’s vist, and the sheriff’s, although she would have happily feigned sleeping if she’d known about that. She slept through maids coming in to clean her room, and briefly stirred when her bandages were swapped, only to be told to go back to sleep. She protested weakly, but was asleep before they could say another word to her. She didn’t dream at first, but after that momentary awakening, she dreamt of Fernand, of fighting to be with him. When she finally woke, it was in confusion. 

“Is she safe?” The words were murmured as she tried to sit up, wincing. Everything felt foggy and she didn’t like how weak she felt. She was meant to be by the Queen’s side, protecting her. 

The memory came back to her. She had won, and the whole court had seen her do so. “They all know now. I’ve been hiding so long, now they know.” Giving up on sitting up since it took so much effort, she laid back on the bed, finally noticing who it was that was holding her hand. Thinking it had to be a dream, she smiled. “You’re here. I’ve been thinking about you.” She squeezed his hand. “Have you come to steal away what already belongs to you?” 

Her mind cleared a little more and she frowned. It wasn’t a dream. “You shouldn’t be here. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Fernand felt a rush of relief as she moved, “Yes, the queen is safe. You don’t need to worry.” He wondered if she was even well enough to really hear him, maybe they had given her some medicine to help her sleep. “You’ll be fine, you don’t have to hide. Who likes hiding anyway? No one will dare hurt the queen with you by her now.” He just wanted her to look at him, see him. He had to know she would be okay.

“I think if he had won the tournament, he was going to ask then.” She couldn’t look at Fernand, wishing he could rescue her from what felt more and more inevitable every day. He kept speaking, and she stopped in shock, finally looking at him. A part of her wanted to say yes, to throw herself into his arms and kiss him. His friend, the friar, would surely marry them tonight should they just ask him to. But then, she would lose everything she worked for. 

“I love you, Fernand.” It felt so much like the truth. “Or at least, I think I do. But we can’t elope. I have to be there for the Queen.” Even though they should be walking, she moved closer to him, wrapping her arms around his neck to pull her closer to him. “One day, I want to marry you. Just not like this. As long as you’re still free, then I will find a way to stay free of the sheriff’s grasp as well.” 

The idea of just one last dance, even if was getting late, was too irresistible to turn down. Fernand could have asked her for anything, and she wouldn’t be able to say no to him. Once it was over, and they were walking, she held his hand, wishing this didn’t feel so much like goodbye. 

“The moment it is safe, I will be running to you.” The thought of the sheriff giving her trouble had her heart sinking. “I am holding onto hope that he will wait until you are caught before trying to…” She was reluctant to finish her sentence, but she did all the same. “Ask for my hand in marriage.” He’d made it clear enough that he had that in mind, and she knew that if he asked, it would be impossible for her to say no. 

Fernand knew the sheriff wanted her, but the idea of him asking her to marry him was infuriating. “He’s going to ask for your hand?” He wouldn’t allow it. Fernand would snatch her from the altar if needed. “I won’t let him. I’ll rescue you before he has the chance.” Fernand would be the only man marrying her, of that he was certain. This new development just meant he had to work fast. 

Marie laughed as she danced with Fernand. When it finished and he offered her a drink, she shook her head. “I shouldn’t, but thank you.” It would be too hard to explain why she had been drinking. Although… “Perhap I will. Just a little.” It would explain why she couldn’t lead the sheriff back if she said she had drunk some to lull them into a false sense of security, encouraging them to get so drunk they passed out and she could escape without endangering the Queen’s protection in the future. 

She took the wineskin with a warning look. “You better be joking. The sheriff would be suspicious of anyone that danced with me now, after your antics today.” As much as Marie wanted to spend as much time with him as possible, she didn’t want either of them to get hurt as a result of their relationship. “I promise that from now on, whenever I dance, I will be wishing I was here dancing.” 

“I’ll be wishing the same.” He looked up and could see the moon creeping above the trees. It was unfair how quickly time passed. “I suppose you will have to go soon. One more dance, and I can walk with you a ways?” He knew he couldn’t go with her all the way to the edge of the forest, just in case the sheriff was out looking for her. 

She hated every moment of this. She’d grown so used to looking up at him, to seeing him smile, that this made it hard to see the Fernand she knew beneath the way he looked now. It was hard to have any faith when men were capable of this.

Marie knew he’d committed the crimes he’d been accused of. It was something she had tried not to think too much about. Even now, she could not believe his crimes were worth this punishment. It was cruel, and the fact the people she cared about were capable of this was just as painful as knowing Fernand was the one suffering. 

“At least your hair isn’t falling in your face. You were always pushing out of your way.” It was a weak consolation, and she knew it, but what else could she say? “It’ll grow back and annoy you again one day.” If he lived long enough. There were so many questions about his future, their future, and none were answered. 

Marie smiled up at him, amused by his nerves. “You don’t have to meet him today.” 

“No, he’s your brother, I… this is going to be a disaster. How hard will he hit me?” 

“I’ll protect you from my big bad brother.” She leaned up and kissed him lightly. 

“Thank you.” Fernand kissed her back, lingering a moment too long because the door opened, and a loud curse had them pulling away from each other. 

“Now Marian, don’t overreact.” Marie put herself between her brother and Fernand as he came marching over. 

Marie dabbed the tear away, wishing her own eyes would dry up. She turned her face away for a moment, wiping at her face quickly before looking back at him. “You don’t have to apologise to me. You already proved yourself to me. I just wish they knew you like I do.” 

The guards approached, and Marie couldn’t hold back the sob any longer. “Please, just a little longer.” She begged them, wanting more time with Fernand. “Let me talk to him for just a little longer.” She didn’t want this to be the last time they spoke, the last image she had of him, but she was scared that this would be it. All that would be left was the memories. 

“You always had a way of seeing the good in things.” His laugh was dry, as if he were choking. “Maybe I’ll just keep it shorter now that I have you to remind me when it’s getting unmanageable.” Fernand wished he had words for what he was feeling, but instead he was just left with an indescribable ache in his chest. He felt the fluttering he had always felt since he met her, but now it brought about an instantaneous pain of not knowing what would come next. He had so many things going through his mind, and he didn’t know where to begin.

He managed to grip her sleeve when she turned to the guards, wanting her to stay. “Marie... I love you so much.” He had to tell her, just in case this was the last time. “Promise me you won’t shut yourself away if I- I couldn’t bear for you to close yourself to everything. Please, promise me.” His tried to swallow the lump forming in his throat, strangling him from the inside.

“I think he may be starting to like me.”

“What gave you that idea?”

“He didn’t threaten to skin me this time.”

Fernand let out a sob as she was tugged away. He slumped down completely, not caring how it hurt or who saw him. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. The guards who had approached her unlocked him and began leading him back to where he’d been held. He was allowed to wash briefly, though he suspected it was only so the guards wouldn’t have to smell him. He sat, still dripping, in his cell. His hands rubbed anxiously where his hair had been, angrily sobbing silently.

“How many kids do you want?”

“How many are you going to give me?”

He laughed, “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves...”

That was the future he should have had. Rolling over on a sunny morning to see her beside him, as many children as they could want. A family where no one had to starve or worry about the cold. It would have been perfect. 

“I- I’m leaving!” She succeeded in getting the drawer open, pulling out one of her play dresses to attempt to put on over the night shirt she was wearing. “I’m running away... to Spain, so I can go starve with all the poor children.”

“And why do you want to do that?” Fernand leaned against the door frame, keeping a remarkably straight face while the adorably angry girl told him of her plans.

“Because papa is mean to me!”

“I’m mean to you?”

“Yes!” She took a staggered breath, apparently remembering something she had forgotten in the other room. He watched her as she strutted over, grabbing up her small shoes and bringing them back to her dress with a huff. “And Maman, and you a-a-always scold me!”

“Is that right?” Fernand looked at her seriously, seeming to take in her words like a sermon. “And why do we scold you?” She was now struggling to get her arms through the sleeves, her head stuck in the fabric. She let out a cry of frustration and flung the dress off, sitting splay legged on the floor with a whimper. “Try undoing the buttons first, sweetheart.”

“You scold me because I misbehave.” She focused entirely on the buttons, tiny fingers struggling with each of them.

“Have you considered... not being naughty? Maman and I wouldn’t have to scold you if you behaved.” This was, apparently, the wrong answer. She threw up her hands, bringing them back down to wipe at her eyes. She then wiped her hands off on the handkerchief, deciding it was better to use that instead. She ineffectively patted the fabric against her face before discarding it once again to work at the buttons. “What will you do?”

“I need to get dressed.” Of course, how could Fernand be so blind. She was a little lady after all, obviously she needed to be dressed appropriately to run away.

“You get dressed, and then what? Where will you go?”

“To Spain!” She muttered angrily, hating to repeat herself. “I will go to all the poor children there and starve. With no water either.”

“Why do you want to do that?”

“So I will fall over dead and you cannot scold me anymore!”

“That sounds excessive.” Fernand wondered for a moment, just what were the details of this plan? She had apparently given it some thought. “How will you get there?”

She looked up, wide innocent eyes as she considered this new development. “...You shall have to take me.”

“Oh no, look. It’s night time already. I can’t take you, I need to go to bed.”

She looked up at him with a petulant glare, determined with her fate. But then she stood up to try the dress again, “Perhaps I will not go to Spain. I will go to Sweden and be a shepherd like Kristina. But I will have very naughty sheep and they will eat me.” He knew she had been listening as the Swedish ambassador exchanged some light gossip about their runaway queen. Of course she was the sort of woman his daughter would look up to, not that he minded.

“Sheep don’t eat little girls, Angel.” Her head popped above the collar and looked very concerned, her plans ruined.

“A bear then.”

“Very sensible.”

She sat down again, pulling on her shoes as best she could with her stockings falling down around her ankles. “I don’t need parents. All parents are mean and horrible.” She stood up again, wobbling from the exertion of her dramatic crying. “Papa, help me with my buttons, please.”

“You just said you don’t need me.”

“Button me up and I won’t need you afterwards!” Fernand had to bite his cheek to keep from laughing, but he smiled just the same as he knelt down to assist his vagabond daughter. “Don’t laugh at me! I’m going to run away!” The way her face scrunched up as she scolded him reminded him remarkably of her mother. Perhaps they should have named her after a demon instead, the descriptor would have been far more accurate in moments like this.

“My apologies, mademoiselle.” He finished tucking her night shirt into the dress, buttoning the dress up. “You are all set for your travels. There’s the door, out you go.”

“...You’re not going to stop me?” Her voice was hesitant for the first time.

“No, you’ve convinced me. Go on, find your sheep.” She sniffled as he waited, watching her. Her small hands went to the front of her dress, smoothing the fabric. He hunched down so he was face to face with her, letting her in on a secret offer. “Darling. Sweetie. How about I take you to go find Kristina later? For now, we can take a lamp and sneak down to the cellar to have ice cream without Maman seeing us.”

She seemed to consider his offer before solemnly nodding her head. “But we will go find Kristina later? We can go see the sheep?”