Reneé getting pregnant one year into their marriage and being all happy and casual about it while Alexandre goes through all the stages of internal panic because he's 40 and he never thought he would have a family and he has no idea what to do and is TERRIFIED of messing up
first entry for the rc-catalog valentines event !!
decided to go with the prompt unrequited love for feb 2.
fandom: vying for versailles.
pairing: renée/alexandre. (unrequited.)
rating: M.
word count: 1270 words.
trigger warnings: unhealthy obsession, mentions of murder, stalker behavior.
MC: isabelle, hedonism path, single, unrequitedly obsessed with the valet.
summary: he's got those eyes that drive her crazy, and she's got eyes to watch him sleep. or, a treaty on obsession.
special taglist: @liykaii (who made the banner thank you so much, love you kiki <3)
Sigh. He couldn't find the words. Bent over his letter, he continued to mindlessly dip the feather in the inkwell — before his eyebrow raised. Did he just hear a creak ?
Wordlessly, he turned around in his chair. Had he not been the spymaster that he was, the rustling would've gone unnoti—
"Isabelle."
One simple name spoken into the air. And yet, that was enough. The rustling got louder, clearly an attempt from the duchess to hide as he stood up, in his shirtsleeves.
"There is no need to hide. What are you doing ?"
Truth be told, this was a rhetorical question. He knew what she was doing, he knew why she was here. That being said, he didn't like it one bit.
That's when Isabelle, despite her attempts, finally revealed her hiding spot from under his bedsheets, dusting off her gown.
"I got lost."
"And, let me guess — tripped, fell into my bed, which followed to my sheets being possessed by who knows what devil trying to murder you ?"
...Perhaps Isabelle should have thought of a better strategy, or at least a better excuse. She stood there, embarrassed about being caught — but the flush of shame on her cheeks was quickly overtaken by a flush of desire.
She wanted him. She needed him. It ate away at her — the fact that he was never responsive towards her advances, she couldn't help but wonder if the problem lied within herself or within himself.
What could he not want ? She was beautiful, young, witty, wealthy — Oh my god. Perhaps he wanted someone else.
That's when her desire was replaced with burning hot jealousy, raging in her green eyes. Had someone else ensnared him ? She had to find a way to —
"Mademoiselle."
His stern voice snapped her out of her reverie, looking up at him, unable to hide her scowl.
"You can't deny what has grown between us, valet."
"Between us ? The only thing between us is the king, whom we both serve. There is no us, Isabelle."
"No us ? So I mean nothing to you ?"
"That is not what I —"
"Are your eyes set on someone else ?"
She sharply asked the question, threateningly taking one step closer to him, then another — Alexandre backing away in response, his back against the table which she kept him pinned against.
Her chest pushed against his, her eyes throwing daggers. How she wished she could take one of those daggers and stick it through his heart, tear it apart, piece by piece to see what preoccupied it.
Silence followed her question — and to her, that could only mean one thing.
She was right.
SHE WAS RIGHT !
Usually, she loved being right — but not this time. This time, she had been hoping to be wrong.
Meanwhile, Alexandre silently mused over what Isabelle could be thinking about, brewing up in that brain of hers — nothing good, at least that's what he was sure of.
"No."
He responded, his heart being... troubled. He knew he wasn't in love — so why was that word so... uncertain ? He wasn't unsure, was he ? Of course he wasn't — Louis didn't want him to fall in love, so why would he ?
Clearing his throat.
"No."
"You hesitated."
"Get out, mademoiselle."
He frowned at her, trying to appear threatening, but knowing that in front of her determined gaze, he could crumble.
Silently swallowing.
The silence was palpable, you could cut through it with a butter knife.
"I'm afraid you've had too much wine at the Prince's party," He said, fully aware that she was sober, trying desperately to hang onto the slight hint of rationality that this situation could benefit from. But part of him knew it was futile — you can't explain this situation with logic. The heart wins over the head, and the head falls in defeat.
"And I fear you long for a closeness that is not the one we should have."
"Is my status a problem ?"
"The problem is that I don't love you, Isabelle. And I fear your desire for closeness is leading you to see things that aren't there."
So he was calling her crazy. That's how he wanted to play it. Okay. She backed away, tempted to throw everything, grab a letter opener and stab him — or maybe grab him by the hair and throw him face first into the fire of the chimney ! No one makes a duchess feel this humiliated — especially not Isabelle de Noailles of all people.
But she stopped. Despite her spontaneous desires of destruction, she restrained herself. This was not over. He would love her, one way or another. This idea that his heart had been stolen by someone else bothered her a lot. He was hers. Hers ! HERS !
If she couldn't have him, no one would.
Turning away — not saying goodbye before she left for her room, feeling her heart break.
She had known many lovers. Many men, and women, who she could bed with. And yet, her eyes reserved themselves to him — the one thing she couldn't obtain. Did the gods enjoy toying with her like this ?
Isabelle made her way back to her room, to hopefully get the Moon's advice, and a good night's rest. She couldn't believe that she had — crumbled like this, in front of him ? How she wished she could undo it. It killed her that she couldn't have everything she wanted, as much as she tried. Wine, parties, dancing, arts, beautiful gowns and expensive jewelry — all of those meant nothing if she couldn't be with the man she loved.
But someone else would.
With that lingering thought running through her head, she went to bed.
Meanwhile, Alexandre's chest heaved up and down, looking around the room, slowly sliding to the ground.
His knees felt weak. His breathing was uneven. He didn't want to admit it — especially not to Isabelle — but he feared for his life in that moment. And rightfully so, the mademoiselle's hedonism was something to fear. Besides, he knew she was capable of disposing of him if she so desired. Desire is a powerful force, and so is lust — Louis of all people knew it best.
Louis. What would he do, without Alexandre ? Had he died, would he have missed his faithful valet ? Would he mourn ? Be sad, attend his burial ? Even organize one for him ? Or would he simply not bother ? Replace Alexandre as he does with all his other mistresses ? Why would he compare himself to those women ?
And yet, thoughts creeped in intrusively. What would it be like, to have Louis of all people miss him ? The driving force of France, missing him ? Begging for him to be back if he were gone ? Wearing black for his valet ? Why could he not push all repulsive thoughts away from his brain ?
Standing up, wiping his hands over his shirtsleeves, as if they were dirty, as if he was trying to get something off of them.
And that's when he realized. Something brutal, something he couldn't deal with, something that he was never going to admit. Something that would change the way he looked at himself in the mirror for the rest of his life.
Staring at the letter he was writing in horror, the feather dipped in ink suddenly resembling the golden apple that caused the Trojan war, lasting for ten years, destroying so many lives in the process, ending with the burning of the city.
He felt his eyes burn, each word on that letter addressed to the king changing, making him pale in terror.
He knew who he loved, and it wasn't Isabelle, or any courtier.
Renée: I don't know how to tell you this, Alexandre, but you're in love with me.
Alexandre: What??
Alexandre: …
Alexandre: …
Alexandre: Oh shit, I am—
François: What kind of confession was I just a witness to…?
"I love it when RC adds new LI branches according to the fandom's feedback and I hope they'll continue to do so starting with Boris. People like to complain about it but had we not asked for them we'd be missing a lot of great LIs like Alexandre, Ramesses, Dean etc so please stop policying what others can or can't ask for, you're entitled to your own opinion and no one else's"
I started playing Vying in Versailles few days ago and completed my first playthrough so I went for another to make better choices this time.
I went for Alexandre Bontemps as my main LI so imagine my SHOOK when I never ever expressed ANY interest to anyone. Never had a single diamond scene with anyone. Always went to bed, bypassed LIs, flings.
And then in episode 5 the game informed me in very lovely fashion that I am going to be forced to have LI that I absolutely must invite on some social event. So I threw my hands and invited the king because I am in his retinue so it seemed logical. For some reason the writing shifted completely and without a single prior romantic interaction my MC and the king suddenly were in love??? Yearning after each other??? Once again I declined all premium scenes only for Alexandre to sulk in garden, telling me to face THAT I HAVE LOVER.
But I don't have a lover??? I never kissed nor held hands with anyone. And then after this the King appears and acts like I broke his heart.
What the. Actual. Fuck.
I feel like the game raped me or something.
Yes, Alexandre, imagine MY frustration as to why everyone thinks that I have lover when I DO NOT.
