#cardinalstoph

King Louis: (ง'̀-'́)ง Fite me Cardinalstoph: ಠ╭╮ಠ omg louis no “You know, one of these days I am really going to teach the Duke of Buckingham a lesson,” Louis was saying as he pranced about the hall. Behind him, his most trusted advisor (and really, was there anyone more trustworthy than a man of God) tried his best to keep his voice level and even. It was taxing at times when your king was little more than a child, but that would soon come to pass. Hopefully, at any rate. “I can imagine so,” the Cardinal replied, not taking his eyes off of the letter he was writing to the Duke in question. “You’re a capable fencer, Richelieu. Why don’t you teach me how to fight?” Louis asked, spinning on his heel and nearly falling backwards. The Cardinal looked up then with a puzzled frown. “I…I’m sorry, Your Majesty I don’t believe I heard you correctly.” He said, placing the reading glasses down. “It’s really quite simple, Richelieu.” The boy king continued, flapping his arms about. “You teach me to fight, and I shall challenge the Duke to a duel!” It took every ounce of willpower Richelieu had not to burst into raucous laughter at the very thought. A man of the cloth didn’t do such things. “I…I’m not so sure that’s a good idea, Your Majesty.” The Cardinal replied with a blank stare. “Say on the frankly low chance that you were to lose, who would run the kingdom?” “Why Anne, of course! She is more than capable, wouldn’t you agree? And you would take full responsibility of her. But I’m not worried. With you as my teacher, I am sure to win!” Louis said brightly. “Well? How about it?” “Your Majesty, as capable as you might be, I’m not certain that I would want to balance the future of France on a duel.” Richelieu explained. “The risk is simply too great.” ‘Besides, it would give me far more pleasure to kill you myself.’ Louis looked to be on the verge of a tantrum and the Cardinal braced himself. “And why not?” The boy king demanded. “I am more than willing to lay life down for country!” “A noble cause,” the Cardinal replied solemnly. “But I don’t think it is in our country’s best interest at the moment. As much as I would enjoy seeing Buckingham knocked down a few pegs, I simply must insist that you do not challenge him to a duel.” This was partly true, actually. He did hate that pompous Duke of Buckingham. Almost as much as he hated the king, really. “Well, if you think it is in our best interest,” Louis replied sulkily. “I do. Now, if Your Majesty doesn’t mind, I’d like to finish this letter.” Louis harrumphed and turned on his heel to go and hurl insults at his tailor again.

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The Cardinal turns out to have a friend in one of the Queen’s songbirds. She’s clever and witty and really quite pretty which is distracting and not at all helpful when plotting world domination. “Marguerite, why don’t you sing a song for me?” Anne said as the ladies in waiting sat around her in a circle. “I think our afternoon could use a little music.” “Is there any song in particular you would like to hear, Your Majesty?” The girl asked as she folded her hands in her lap. “There is one I would like to hear,” Anne replied. “Buckingham sang it once to us, of course, he put on several airs.” She laughed at the memory. “I remember it being rather sweet. It’s called Flow My Tears. Do you know it?” “Forgive my impudence, Your Majesty, but I’m not sure if the King would enjoy hearing an English lute song.” Marguerite said with a little smile. Anne laughed, charmed by the girl’s cheekiness. “Never you mind what the King wants,” Anne said kindly. “Go ahead, now.” Marguerite nodded and settled herself straight as Anne nodded at the court musicians. Marguerite breathed deep as her corset would allow her to and she began to sing a soft lilting melody. ‘Flow my tears, fall from your springs! Exiled for ever, let me mourn; Where night’s black bird her sad infamy sings, There let me live forlorn.’

As Louis was going on about the colors he would wear and certainly surpass Buckingham this time round, Cardinal Richelieu was staring off into space and trying very hard not to bash his head into something hard. However both men paused when the first plaintive notes echoed through the palace. It was unlike anything either of them had ever heard before, clear and sweet as Notre Dame’s bells. Louis paused his venting and turned to the Cardinal in utter surprise. “Do you hear that, Richelieu? It’s lovely.” For once in his life, the King was right. The voice singing so sweetly was almost beyond lovely. Music was a big part of church life, but never had the Cardinal heard such beautiful secular music. “I hear it,” Richelieu said quietly. “Must be one of Anne’s ladies in waiting,” Louis said sagely with a nod of his head. “Hurry along now, Cardinal! We may very well catch her in the act!” He dashed off ahead while the dazed and confused Cardinal trailed slowly behind. Both men followed the beautiful sounds of the lute song until they happened by the alcove where the Queen and her ladies were, well, waiting for lack of a better term. Louis darted behind a column and gestured for the Cardinal to do the same. Richelieu did no such thing. He stood off to the side and merely listened as the brassy-haired young lady concluded her song. ‘Hark! you shadows that in darkness dwell, Learn to contemn light Happy, happy they that in hell Feel not the world’s respite.’

Louis, ever feeling the need to announce himself, applauded jauntily. “Bravo! Bravo! Absolutely splendid!” He cheered merrily. “Anne, I must say this young lady is in possession of a very lovely voice!” He said as the women stood to greet him. Marguerite could feel her face burn just a little to receive such high praise, but it was nice all around. She also took notice of the fact that the Cardinal wasn’t too far behind the King and the thought made her just a bit nervous. “Thank you, my Lord.” Marguerite said, bowing her head. Louis shook his head, feathered hat flapping about comically. “Not at all! Thank you for gracing us with such a beautiful song! In fact, I was just remarking to Richelieu…dash it, where did that man get to…Richelieu! Come over here and meet our royal songstress! What is your name, my dear?” Louis turned back to the girl. She curtsied politely and tried not to giggle at the annoyed expression on the Cardinal’s face. “Marguerite Dumas, my Lord.” She replied softly. “And do you sing other songs, Mademoiselle Dumas? Perhaps another song preferably in French?” Louis asked. Marguerite nodded, trying her best not to fiddle with her skirts. “Yes, my Lord. I know very many songs. My father is a traveling musician.” She replied politely. “Fantastic!” Louis exclaimed. “If you wouldn’t mind terribly, could you sing another? The Cardinal and I have grown rather bored of late. It would be a treat indeed to hear you again.” Marguerite snuck another glance at the Cardinal who looked somewhat pained. “I believe his Eminence has something better to do,” she replied with a knowing smile in his direction. “Oh of course he doesn’t. We were only chatting about Duke Buckingham’s visit, weren’t we Richelieu?” Louis turned to the Cardinal who fixed a neutral expression on his face, though any fool could see the annoyance in his eyes. “We do have a few more important things to discuss, Your Majesty. We have a treaty to write out and—“ “Oh, don’t bother with that, Richelieu. We can resume later! For now, let’s enjoy another song from Mademoiselle Dumas!” Louis interrupted. Richelieu looked as if he’d much rather be guillotined now, please and thank you, but he had no choice. Once the King made up his mind, it was nigh impossible to get him to change it (unless one were to divert his attention, and that wasn’t too hard). Sighing and resigning himself to yet another uneventful afternoon, the Cardinal sat in the back while the court musicians waited for a nod from either King or Queen.

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Marguerite is half-dressed and runs into Richelieu, who may or may not be doing unCardinal-like things having to do with blackmail and murder. Also boners are distracting.

It wasn’t like she wouldn’t sleep, it was more along the lines of she couldn’t sleep. Constance had been scolding her again and Marguerite had gone to bed in anger. Even as she tossed and turned on her bed, she couldn’t seem to calm herself down and settle into a nice blissful sleep where she could dream of petty revenge. It was a fruitless attempt, unfortunately for her and it only served to make her angrier. Not only did Constance manage to embarrass her in front of the queen, she also robbed her or her beauty sleep and that was inexcusable. Frustrated, Marguerite sat up and swung herself out of bed. She needed air to cool her head and a walk in the palace gardens sounded lovely about now. She threw on a thin housecoat and headed out of the dormitories. She passed a few of the Cardinal’s personal guardsmen who were keeping watch for any pesky Musketeers or that boy of Constance’s. What was his name, D’Artangion! Yes, that was the boy Constance strung along like a lovesick puppy. Marguerite could understand why, really. He was much too arrogant for her tastes, and she could tell that he’d make a good match for Constance. Perhaps they could annoy each other and leave her well enough alone.

She was so enraptured in her swirling thoughts of Constance and D’Artangion that she didn’t look where she was going and found herself someplace in the palace a lady in waiting really oughtn’t be. It looked like the wing where the Cardinal worked or slept or did whatever it was he did. Not many were allowed back here if any at all. And she wasn’t sure where the front door was from here either. Keeping a level head, she started off down one of the hallways and found a wooden door. She tried the handle, but found it locked. She cursed to herself and decided to try the door in front of that one. Why did this place have so many damned doors? Before she could attempt a third time (the second one had been long jammed by something or other and she didn’t bother to find out what), the handle twisted on its own! She covered her mouth to stifle a shriek of surprise when the Cardinal himself came face to face with her. “You,” he said quietly and looking just as surprised to see her as she was to see him. Immediately, he frowned and Marguerite did not like the look that crossed over his face. “What are you doing here?” He asked silkily. Marguerite recalled Anne telling her that the Cardinal was not a man to be trusted with anything. “I’m lost,” she replied, not looking him in the eye. It wasn’t technically a lie either. He looked as if he rather doubted this. “Oh you are?” He replied, eyes narrowing. “And what exactly has brought you out of bed and to my chambers at this hour?” “I wanted to go for a walk,” she said, unable to find the courage to look him in the eye. Those eyes of his were hard as flint and she was sure she wouldn’t be able to look at him without wincing. “I…have a lot on my mind, and I was not looking where I was going. Forgive me.” This seemed to calm him down a little, though he was still suspicious. “The palace gardens are a much more suitable place for a walk,” he said, locking the door behind him and wrapping the key around his wrist. It was attached to a rosary, she noticed. She wondered if he kept that on his person at all times. Best not to ask that question. “That’s where I was headed, Your Eminence.” She replied, running a nervous hand through her braided hair. “But I was lost in my thoughts and I wandered here instead.” “Interesting,” he muttered. “Roquefort should have seen you. I ought to have a chat with him when this is dealt with.” “Dealt with?” Good Lord, he wasn’t going to kill her for this, was he? She had heard rumors that the Cardinal was a cruel man, but all she’d done was wander into his chambers by mistake. “Yes, when you are back in your dormitory where you belong.” He replied with a raise of his eyebrows. “Unless you plan to sleep on the stone floor, and I would have the greatest sympathy for you if you do.” She shook her head. “No, I ought to be going.” She agreed. She was about to head back the way she came when the Cardinal caught her by the wrist. “Before you go,” he began quietly. “I would like to advise you of something.” “Yes?” She asked just as softly, almost fearfully. He lowered his face closer to hers and she could just barely make out rings of dark brown around the pupils of his eyes. “Do not tell a soul that you saw me here tonight. Or Queen Anne will be sans a songbird the next time we meet.” His voice was steady and calm, but it still caused a shiver to travel down her spine. “I understand,” she replied. He nodded as if he agreed with her. “Off with you now.” He waved her away. “Wouldn’t want you to catch your death.” She did as he asked and took off in the opposite direction, heart racing wildly. He shook his head and took a deep breath.