french-louis:
âOh?â His tone was riddled with curiosity and a hint of humour. His smile widened as he gently took Camilla by the arm, folding it neatly around his elbow. âI believe I may know of some of these instances, yet you rise so valiantly from them. Your endurance is admirable.â Befitting of a Queen, he had almost blurted out had he not quickly considered the greater implications of such a statement. He could not deny it though, the young woman would make an excellent Queen.Â
The air was thick with anticipation, as though to inhale was to choke rather than feel replenished. Despite the isolation of the two, Louis always felt eyes upon him, watching and criticising his every move. It was not public knowledge that the French King did not intend war and many glared at him, noting the power he held in every stride- the power to plunge Europe back into war. It would be dishonest of Louis to deny how he relished such power, though he was determined not to use it. âAre you hungry, my lady? I can only imagine that after such a journey, you would care for something more delicious than what you were regrettably subjected to on the ship.â
She watched the words roll unto his lips, the lull of the syllables rustling between the kingâs teeth. Entrancingly, she watched even those rows of white, sharp tokens, something from a chessboard or a statue, not the flesh world, as they clamped upon questions. She wondered if the other woman looked upon him so, was besotted so, compared him to Arthur and Alexander so. She wondered if such greatness could be lost to anyone, or go amiss. Did it not cower all these men here, with their balding patches and their paunch bellies? Did it not make them aware of the full force of their failures?
His constant measurement of their surroundings did not go beyond Camilla. She was not yet too lost in reverie dâamour not to notice his appraising, like his eyes were tailors, like the crowd was a cloth he must cut. At once, the realization of her true purpose her dawned upon the girl. They were in a foreign land, meant to smooth talk themselves out of the war path. Their circumstances emblazoned themselves with reality, as though before this moment she was still part of a play, and only now began to see above the curtain. She had been a sluggard, a foolish, overweening thing, to believe it would lead anywhere if she remained a distraction. No... what she desired required a toll heavier than giggles and blushes; it required understanding and gravity on her part, to acknowledge him as more than the object of her love, but as a being, autonomous, vulnerable and often dragged down by duties. âSenses such as hunger fade to the stern in these moments, Monseigneur.â The words were quiet, more meaning dripping into them than usual. She leaned closer to him, propped on his elbow like a hunting bird, with her own grace but her declared obeisance. âYour Highness, supper would be delightful, if you so desired. A private game, too. But I am at thy disposal for so much more. If sometime you need to speak things that no other man should catch sign of, I am here. Ever at your elbow.â








