AUREATE

Her words were a weapon, and Alexandre the weak foolish man turned inwards upon himself as she denied his cunning plan as foolish and dangerous. Somehow, he had thought through all of this she would be relieved to hear that he had given his blessing for her to take a lover. The truth struck him square in the chest and riddled the spaces between his ribs with guilt. Alexandre would need to be a pious man tonight, but he didn’t think even prayer or confession could save his soul now. The conversation turned, and with it the focus of her vicelike grip shifted. Alexandre would’ve breathed a sigh of relief if the talk that did it was about anything else but war. Their potential impending doom did nothing to lighten the mood. But here at least, they had a common enemy.

“It is not we who deserve, but I. Only I had never thought the outcome would be war.” In such intimate privacy, Alexandre did nothing to shield his thoughts. With Tristan, he had always put on the farce of easy smiles, not that it’d ever mattered because he had seen right through him, but with Annette they were too far apart. This was perhaps the first night since their attempted consummation that he had let the cracks show. He held his head in his hand, elbow pressed against the table without a care for manners when such a grave topic announced itself. He didn’t have any answers for her, or bravery just yet.

The food had lost its appeal and very neatly, Alexandre put his plates aside and brought forth a cup of wine. Even then he did not drink, he swirled it absentmindedly. “Upon my return a regiment for Paris will be formed. Then, I will need to send someone to oversee the dockyards north and south. His eminence and I planned for their renewal, I can only hope that the ships are coming along.” Alexandre felt sick.

“I never wanted this,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “War tastes like failure, and—” There was no need to say it aloud, defeat surrounded them even at home. “I am afraid.” That was all there was to say, nothing more and nothing less. He pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes fluttered shut and for an unsure second it appeared as if he might cry. Alexandre, somehow, remained resilient. His gaze lifted, and with it he clawed his way to surety. “You must do your duty to France, first. Or they will never trust you in my absence.” It was a warning, a promise, a factual statement. For all they might say about him, Alexandre had been born to rule, France was the only child he would ever have.

“When this begins, I do not know if I will return. I must be at the front, I cannot ask the men to fight for France when I am too coward to fight with them.” A gross thought came to him that perhaps, finally, Annette would get her wishes. His permeant disappearance. “You amongst others will stay here, the household guard will protect you in-case of the worst but I don’t imagine it will get that far.”

Silence once again settled comfortably in Annette’s lap as she listened to Alexandre take ownership of their greatest issue. What duty did a King have but to be a pillar of strength at all times? When everything managed to fall apart, it was the King that everyone looked to for support and to place the blame. For every privilege that the royal couple had been afforded, at least ten consequences followed right behind them. The money, clothes, palaces, and the prestige all came with a price and life would always come to collect. While she wanted to remove herself from his side and point her finger at him just as everyone else had, she simply couldn’t. Lord knows Annette did her best eliminate the possibility of war long ago, but now it was too late and she saw no use in adding to the blame. Truthfully, there were already enough complications in her life that she had no problem blaming her husband for.

The steam that fiercely radiated from her elaborately loaded plate had all but disappeared due to ignoring it and favoring her cup instead. It was unlike her to be so neglectful of her meals but her appetite had long vanished. Talks of war and its vast preparations wasn’t exactly ideal dinner conversation and it hardly triggered an appetite. With a slight nod of head, Annette showed her understanding of their plans and proceeded to release the hold she had on her cup so that she could refill it. Dainty hands weighed down by excessive jewels reached for the large pitcher of wine and filled her cup to the rim. “That would be best. The ships will come, Alexandre. We will make sure of it.” Annette’s voice was surprisingly warm and even maternal. Her eyes that had earlier looked at him with bitterness and disdain now were now softened and lightly dimmed. No longer did they only need to appear to be united, but they actually needed to be united. She would reluctantly offer him her support for as long as it made sense to do so.

Alexandre’s fear bled uncontrollably through his words as he spoke. Annette could only recall a few moments during their marriage where she saw a similar look of worry expand across his features. It was both refreshing and pitiful all at the same time. He wanted this all to go away, but who didn’t? France was entering a dark time and pulling the covers over their heads would do nothing to prevent it all from happening. No matter how exhausting it was going to be to show strength, it was necessary if they intended to survive. “I believe that this is the last thing you wanted. No one in their right mind wanted this but it’s here and we have no choice but to act. Fear will not suit you in the wars to come because now more than ever we must show strength.”

The silence had resonated off the walls and now the disdain in her voice, rightfully so, lingered. Alexandre didn’t know what to say—there was nothing he could say and that was the worst of it. There was no undoing what he had done. It had been a choice, this or that, and he had made it. Some would argue that was reckless. Some would argue that he was his father’s son. To Alexandre it didn’t matter. By patching the hurts of one love, he had hurt another, even if the pair could not be compared. His love for Annette was an entirely different entity to that of Tristan, but that was not to say she deserved humiliation and an unsteady future. He did not, even after a great deal or research, know exactly how to alleviate the issue. They were trapped by their parents’ decisions.

He fumbled. “I did not mean we, you and I.” It was supposed to be the maiden that by the tale of folklore wept in her wedding bed, the same could not be true for them. If Annette had wept it had been out of sight of his pitiful display of inadequacy. He had not known then—no, he had always know but he had never understood. That first night of their marriage had felt like half a man, incapable of doing what everyone had told him would be the very glittering highlight of their partnership. He wanted no part in it. Alexandre fidgeted again. “You can farce a child whilst I am away at war.” The words were so haphazardly spoken, as if Alexandre had not considered them at all, as if they had not haunted his thoughts for years on end. The children in the orphanage had been the last nail.

“There is, another option. If you chanced to find yourself with child they would be Hapsburg which is close enough to be Valois—an heir for France.” It was blasphemous what he spoke of. But because it was he who spoke them it alleviated the traitorous nature of it. Casual conversation instead of talking about naming a bastard son or desolate orphan the heir to the throne. He regarded her with a pang of envy he would rather not unpick. For now, he blamed it on the wine, and that she could truly be a mother. He would never father a child. It had taken a long time for Alexandre to understand that absolutely, to come to terms with it, but it had not made the hole in his heart any smaller. Alexandre was missing something, he knew what it was but he could never have it.

“I won’t pretend that you enjoy my company but this conversation, is delicate.” Alexandre set down his cutlery entirely. The cup of wine was inviting but he didn’t dare drink anymore. “I could not have spoken to you with an audience.” He foolishly leaned across the table and took her hand in his, even with his own hands soft Annette’s were supremely delicate. “I ride to Reims three days from now, and I imagine it will not be long after that France is stirred from peace. I know you do not believe it, have no reason to, but I have every intention of protecting you.” Finally, he let go. Busied himself with pouring them both wine even those his cup was all but full compared to her own, barren and dry.

“As it stands,” he said quietly. “If I were to die, you would be named my heir before Laurent.” But, but, but—- the people of France were not so easily won.

Now more than ever Annette craved to hear the sweetest tune from her favorite violinist to drown out the infuriating sound of her husband’s voice. As a passionate patron and student of the arts, she could perhaps accompany him on the pianoforte which would also shield her eardrums from the impact of the King’s words. His poorly executed suggestions only further drove her to edge of her annoyance, though his nerve in suggesting such scandalous options hardly surprised her. Perhaps his time around d’Aumont had raised his tolerance for treachery and deceit. What he spoke of could ruin her much faster than standing aside while he enjoyed his affair. She would not bring shame upon herself nor to the Houses of Habsburg and Valois by even considering to walk down such an odious path. Choosing an orphan or a bastard child as the heir to France would never be the answer to their problems and it annoyed her that he obviously could not see that.

“What you are suggesting is as dangerous as it is foolish. You are suggesting that I lie with another man and present his child as the future ruler of France. Oh, and our only other option is to take in an orphan. I hope that you learn from your stupidity once this night is over.” Annette’s eyes darted over at Alexandre like two harpoons more than ready to impale. There was hardly any fun to be had in tearing him down, but she continued to do so anyway. What would be left of her husband once her verbal claws finished tearing away at him? Who would he be once his self esteem and his gilded crown of gold laid shattered on the marble floors like chips of glass? Part of her expected to see a frightened child since she doubted there was ever a man behind it all in the first place.

The one thing that Alexandre did manage to do right was to request a private supper. They could never speak this freely before the high lords and ladies of court without fear of judgement. He was also correct to note that his company was not one that she went out of her way to be in. It tickled her how quickly she went from wanting all of his attention at one time, to avoiding it altogether. The urge to snatch her hand away from his was almost impossible to ignore, but she allowed the kind gesture to take place. Soon, he would be away from her and their contact would be limited to ink on folded parchment. Time away from him was necessary, though the warmer side of her wished the reasoning for his departure was different.

The irritation that wafted from her person slowly dissipated at the second mention of his trip to Reims. Suddenly, Annette felt the need to forsake her ice cold tone and replace it with one of genuine concern. The reality of war was beginning to sink deeply into the hearts and minds of all the loyal patriots of France. Things would be changing soon and there was little that anyone could do to pause the changes. No matter how different their country would become, Annette would make it her business to protect her people just as she had promised to do upon her coronation.

Relief loosened the tension in Marie’s shoulders a littlewhen Annette didn’t seem offended by her speech. She nodded back before theservants announced their arrival. Marie’s smile was warmest for the servants,although she navigated her way through the ladies with ease. They knew Marienow, and she found it simple enough to say the right thing to please all ofthem before Annette gestured for Marie to follow her.

The words, the simple faith that Marie would not betray hermeant a great deal to her, and she was about to say so when Annette continuedtalking. Again, she felt like she was frozen. Was this a test? Had Annetteheard of the arrest? She’d just said she trusted Marie, but to ask that felt likeshe was standing on the edge of the cliff. She didn’t want to fall off, butstaying still didn’t seem like an option either.

“Is there something you’ve heard, Your Majesty?” Mariequestioned cautiously, wondering just how much she knew. “There was… anincident. But it was just a misunderstanding, really. I don’t want to cause anytrouble over something so trivial. There are much more important matters tofocus on, my… misadventures, for a lack of a better word, are really not worthworrying about.”

It wasn’t trivial or small, not to Marie, but as angry asshe was at Bert and the Red Guards, she would not make a fuss about this. Shedidn’t see how it’d help. Somewhere through her anger, she understood Bert’sactions. Besides, she was afraid that telling would make things worse. Eitherit’d be dismissed entirely, making her feel even more isolated, or it wouldlook like she was trying to curry favour, which was far from the truth. It wasbetter to deal with it herself. That way, she couldn’t be disappointed inanyone else.

Knowing her words wouldn’t seem that reassuring, she decidedto add something more honest. “I’ve just recently come to the realisation thatpeople aren’t always who you think they are. I’ve lived a simple life, YourMajesty, these different masks that people wear, I’m not used to them. That’swhat it all comes down to, really.”

The game of duplicity was rarely a favorite of Annette’s, but it was indeed a game that she had become quite proficient in. It was one of the highest arts to weave words into an intricate web to lure and trap a victim. Many could speak with pretty words but few were ever skilled enough to extract any desired information without a direct inquiry. With Marie now standing in her company, she refrained from placing any hidden intentions behind her words and spoke as plainly as she would have with some of her ladies. If her questions led the seamstress to believe that she was aware of something then it was a false assumption.

The  ceramic teapot clinked harshly against the surface of the dark cherry wood table in front of her as she placed it down and gently slid the second cup along with a dish of sugar toward Marie. Almost as soon as she finished speaking, Annette’s eyes withdrew their focus from the dainty teapot and once more focused in on Marie’s figure. Something had happened and Marie appeared to be completely untroubled by it. Sinking down into her cushioned seat, Annette slipped her fingers into the handle of her teacup and brought the rim up to her lips to swallow down any frantic worries that threatened to dance across her tongue. From the way that Marie spoke, it seemed to have been a minor incident that was barely even worth addressing. Annette wondered that if it was as trivial as Marie claimed it to be, then why had she chosen to acknowledge it anyway?

Lowering her steaming teacup down to chest level, Annette shifted her weight in her seat and slightly leaned her upper body against the back of her chair. Concealed in her closed mouth were more burning questions that she was eager to have answered. Where had this incident occurred and with whom did it involve? How long ago had it happened and what was the real reason that Marie pretended like it didn’t matter? Subtlety was often lost on her whenever a situation involved a person that she cared about and so this time she would choose to exercise restraint. Nothing good would come of Marie feeling as though she needed to lay every single problem at Annette’s feet. She needed to feel comfortable enough to be able to tell Annette when she was ready.

“If it is as trivial as you say it is then I will not push for you to tell me. However, I do want you to know that you are free to speak with me about anything and if I am able to help you, I will.” Her reassurance dripped from her tongue like warm honey before she raised the cup of tea back up to her lips and took another polite sip. Marie was not wrong to be disturbed by the masks worn by those who appear to be one way but behave entirely different. Almost no one was who they seemed to be, especially at court. “That is a lesson I’m pleased to hear you have learned. People will say what they think you want to hear and do the things they think you want them to do. They will pretend to care for you and can turn on you when you least expect it.”

Placing the teacup down on the table, Annette leaned in. “I want you to know that I am not saying that you cannot trust anyone, but what I am saying is that the world grows larger everyday and you will need to start seeing people for who or what they really are in order to stay safe.”

He could sense her irritation, no longer bubbling beneath the surface but visible, still, admirably constrained. Tristan met that dark gaze directly, not intending insolence, but not subtle to a fault by nature. The words were harsh, sharp, meant to wound, but he bore them well. Only a flicker of expression passed across his face, perhaps a hint of his own irritation at the unnecessary venom in her words, before it passed.  

“It won’t,” he questioned, with a hint of sardonic humour, his expression remaining calm. “In that case, I’m very happy to hear it.  I agree, there are more important things to discuss.” His eyes met hers once more, weary, but still sharp, intelligent. “How do you propose we are to avoid war? I expect that my head on a pike would do a great deal to smooth things over, but that only hinges upon the prospect that only the Spanish grow impatient with us. My father’s murderer, Alexandre’s attempted assassination…we still have very little idea of who is responsible, and I hesitate to place the blame with no information.”

Or very little. Only a name, shared in rumours, and shadows.

A rather arrogant chuckle toppled from roseate lips at the brief mention of his possible beheading. It wasn’t quite the silvery laughter that normally radiated from her smile, but it was beautiful nonetheless.” I will admit that after our last encounter some months ago I was quite adamant on watching your head roll.” Polished fingers adorned with her favorite pearl rings were interlocked at her waist as she once more returned her eyes to him. The possibility of his death, while very satisfying to her, would only complicate their uncomfortable political situation even more. Still, part of her wanted him to live in fear; never knowing when his card might be pulled and by whom. “Perhaps we will just have to wait and see what your fate will be.” she said in a teasing manner.

The question of how to avoid war required some difficult answer that she didn’t necessarily have. What were all of her letters and peacekeeping if not tools to avoid war? Annette more than anyone wished to stave off the possibility of war with her homeland and to uphold the alliance that delivered her to the shores of France all those years ago. “I have written to my brother, the King of Spain a dozen times and while he claims to value my council he has only ignored it. I proposed a formal meeting between him and ourselves to renegotiate certain terms but my suggestion seems to have fallen on deaf ears.” It was true that Annette had spent a great deal of time away from both her mother and Charles though she had been reassured that she had not fallen out favor with them. As a foreign queen, Annette equally promoted Spain’s and France’s interests and saw no real reason to favor one over the other. Now, she beginning to see the dangers of fence-riding.

He noted that she dived right into the meat of the conversation, something that Tristan was grateful for. He hadn’t been able to determine the best words to share with her, nor ways of either hiding or contextualising his grief. Behind that grief in his eyes was a hint of confusion and surprise - Annette had made no secret of the fact that she despised him. It pained him, but he understood the situation as it stood and could hardly ask to see him as an individual rather that the complicated interactions that they were all embroiled in.

Then, he realised that even they were beholden to certain social rules. Annette was not bestowing upon him a curiosity, but his dead father. Tristan met her gaze, level, tired, and nodded. He didn’t add that he had strong doubts about the afterlife, and his father’s place in it. “I’d rather him here. God has all the military commanders of History, but I don’t have a father,” he returned honestly, with a shrug of his shoulders. “Hardly seems fair.” There was a complicated cascade of emotions in his gaze as she continued on. “I’ll do my best for France,” he returned quietly, neither fully thanking her or decrying her words, “but I’ve never been one to cherish station.”

At the obvious show of her distaste, curling insidiously through those last words, Tristan exhaled softly. “Is that why you called me to your side? To offer condolences and congratulations? Both of which I am grateful for, but I think that it is not the only point of our conversation. Or am I mistaken?”

The loss of a parent was never easy to bear; being forced to cling to a memory of them that continued to fade with each passing day. There would always be a special place in both her heart as well as her prayers for the late King Felipe of Spain. The absence of her father brought forth a coldness like she had never known, and she could tell that Tristan was now experiencing a similar feeling. Still, with all of their blatant similarities, a searing flame of annoyance still raged within her at the thought of him which she worked to extinguish. Even now as she simply walked alongside him she could feel her once neutral expression gradually slip into one of subtle anger. Of course, she wore her anger exceptionally well along with a pair of identical diamonds that dripped precariously from both lobes.

It almost tickled her to hear him speak of fairness. It surprised her to know that he had ever heard of the word or would have the audacity to speak of his desire for it. Yes, it was terribly unfair that his father was taken from him, but his crimes against her were also unfair. As petty as Annette could be at times, she saw no use in endlessly comparing the two together to see which one was more unfair. She would, however, allow God to decide when the time came.

Irises of dark brown sustained their direct gaze ahead as she effortlessly glided across the detailed flooring beneath her clicking heels. With time, her confident shoulders had begun to drop, but were slowly were beginning to tense up with each passing second. A swift roll of her eyes withdrew her attention ahead and placed them back on Tristan’s face. Almost instantly she found fault in the way he spoke to her. While she may have preferred for them to immediately arrive at the point, it was still in poor taste to rush a conversation with the queen.

The silence didn’t bother Marie. Silence was easier, silencelet her think. So much had happened, and Marie was left wondering where she’dgone wrong. Her life had been so straight forward only a matter of months ago.Had this chaos always been her destiny, or had she taken a step in the wrongdirection that made everything else start to topple? Would everything else comecrashing down now, or was the worst over? Could she start to rebuild her lifethe way she wanted it, the way it’d always been? She’d always been a simpleperson, she’d liked her life exactly the way it was before fear and angerstarted to creep into her life.

She knew the worst wasn’t over, even as she prayed it was.

No one close to her had died, yet she felt like she hadafter her parents passed away, as if she was cut adrift and didn’t know how tofind her way back. Then, it had been Marian who pulled her back, but this time,her brother didn’t know how to help. How could he promise her everything wouldget better, when he was thinking of fighting, if it came to war? No, nothingwas getting better. She just had to try to remember to hold onto who she was,even if it ended up making matters worse. She’d be true to herself.

“Non, you do not need forgiveness. Sometimes, it’s better tobe silent rather than listen to mindless chatter.” She turned to smile atAnnette, but the question made her freeze. It felt like a trap. Did the Queenknow of her stay in the cells? Did she know of the questions the Red Guardsasked her?

There was a touch of defiance in the way she held herself,her words firm. She would not let anyone doubt her. “Your Majesty, I don’t lie.As a matter of fact, I am terrible at it. The most I can do is keep secrets, orpick half-truths if I am angry enough. But I would never tell anyone,especially not someone I respect as much as you, a direct lie. And the secrets,the half-truths, I only do if I believe the full truth would do more harm thangood.”

She didn’t break the gaze, holding steady despite the littlefrisson of fear that spun through her for speaking with such a stubborn tone tothe Queen. “I give you my word, I will always tell you the truth. If there’ssomething I cannot tell you, I’ll ask you to let me keep that to myself, ratherthan try to lie.”

“I’m as tired of lies and secrets as you, I’m sure.”Finally, she looked away, swallowing thickly. There’d been so many, and at thetime, they’d all seen harmless, but now, she was just too tired. “I know thatliars would say they’re honest too, but I wouldn’t betray you.”

Many of the courtiers would have been utterly shocked at Marie’s tone of choice when speaking to the queen. It was commonplace for the lords and ladies of the court to filter their words with extreme care in order to ensure that neither their king nor their queen were offended by them. Everything that truly mattered rested comfortably on the rigorous lines of proper etiquette, and few were willing to cross those lines. In this case, Annette could hardly blame the woman for her response seeing as she did expect hear total honesty. No longer did she have any desire to stay hidden behind the thin veil of niceties and courtly manners with Marie.

A slight turn of her head sent dark, luxurious curls spilling over part of her exposed collar bone as she quietly listened to Marie speak of her character. The hand that once rested on the silk brocade of her midriff now stroked the surface of the diamond pendant atop her chest. It calmed her to hear that Marie was not a liar, nor someone that would need to be kept at a distance. Hard times were quickly approaching France and the last thing that Annette needed was to spend her time dealing with those who could not be trusted.

“Very well then,” Annette began with a deep swallow. “we will only speak of the truth from now on.” With a quick nod of her head, Annette withdrew her eyes to the white double doors which concealed her gilded chambre. Upon her arrival, the two servants stationed outside of her rooms prepared a double door entrance and announced both Annette’s and Marie’s arrival to her attentive group of ladies. As usual, Annette entered the space in due pomp and nodded at the stream of acknowledgements and greetings that endlessly flowed from the lips of her ladies. Turning her face over her shoulder to Marie, Annette gestured for the woman to follow her into her interior cabinet where a fresh pot of tea would be waiting for them.

“I want you to know that I believe you, Marie. I know that you have a good heart and would not betray me.” Annette commented, entering the room and closing the small door behind them to ensure their privacy. The many waves of Annette’s skirt swayed and rippled as she moved around the small table and raised the tea pot to pour some into a set of twin tea cups. “If we are committed to our promise of honesty then I know that you would tell me if something happened to you so long as you felt comfortable with telling me, right?