“No, Your Grace, I am not” He reassured her, a wry smile playing across his lips, it was true, he did not see himself as too good. As far as he was concerned he always did the bare minimum. The bare minimum of what was required of a basic and good human being. If few others lived up to this standard was no concern of his, the standard still existed. “I simply speak the truth. I cannot promise many things, mi reina bella, but my honesty I can.
He was not stupid. He knew he longed for things that he could never have. That indulging himself, even slightly, was cruel. Cruel to himself, hanging temptation in front of his eyes that would never be satisfied, and cruel to her for it asked too much of her. They had a friendship, based on shared understanding, the ability to make each other happy, provide company, when drowning in loneliness. Most of the time this friendship was enough, more than enough, dearer to him than all else. In moments such as this, however, he could not help being cruel.
They were self destructive thoughts, creeping across his mind. Why shouldn’t he be allowed to be cruel? Those around him in court seemed to have no problem being so. Selfishness and recklessness was all around him. Why must he remain controlled, follow the rules and avoid the taboos? Why was he one of the few who had been born with a need to adhere to a code?
He had decided, it seemed, to be selfish tonight. Normally the thought of burdening another with his thoughts would be too much for him. He would run from any offer of solace or comfort. He could not help but fall into her offer, however, “I know what it is like, to be in danger, to find yourself covered in blood, and not know if it is your own, or your enemies.” His eyes closed for a brief moment, not wanting to look at her, as he opened up the tiniest piece of himself. “I have done things, risked things, for the throne. I did all this with the knowledge I was protecting France, and everyone I cared about.” He opened his eyes, to face her again, “Now, now I cannot protect anyone. I feel more terrified, than I ever was before.”
Finally. There was a sense of satisfied as she watched Renaud confess. This is what friends did- tell each other the good and the bad. As entertaining as the Musketeers' daring adventures were, there was a mutual understanding and when it came to Renaud's problems. But with it, a part of her impression of him fell away, too. He had his issues, his inner conflicts that used to seem to plague everybody else in the castle but him.
Still, even now, he was still too good. Annette was a queen, yet Renaud was the one who naturally kind. It was in his nature. Annette was still in the process of building genuinely into her character, but she had a long way to go. She grew up flocked by suitors, wealth, and everything eye-opening and extravagant. Her childhood was the epitome of royalty, like her life was now. Court was where she belonged. It was where she was her best. But court was her downfall. Her decadent and selfish behaviors that were completely normal in court were seen as negatives in real society, the place she dared to go but could never. Renaud grew up outside of court. Was it that the people that grew up outside the gates had stronger morals, better ones? Every once Renaud was warm, Annette was fickle. Everything he gave, she took, even when she tried to give it back.
"No, that is not true." She insisted. What was she doing here, comforting someone who she thought was one of the strongest people in the world? "You still can. You still protect Alexandre. You still protect the royal family. France still needs you." That, and her own country. "Spain needs you. My husband needs you to advise him on Spanish politics. You can still help without being in the field. By acting as envoy, you protect me too. It is your job to help Spain when I cannot be there. Your responsibilities at court are important to me. Do not be scared. I will help you." She vowed, sincere for one of the first times in her life. With that, she pushed away from him, striding back to the door. The cup of tea was in her hand.
"I think the lateness of the hour makes people question themselves. I plan to go to bed now, but..." she trailed off, not wanting to sound offensive, "perhaps there are things you must mull over, that only Spanish wine will clarify. I bid you goodnight, Renaud." With a small, close-lipped smile, she started up the stairs, the train of her dress swishing behind her.
