It had been a particularly long weekend away. The King had sent him on business to the furthest reaches of France. Away from him, away from Versailles but most important, away from the Chevalier de Lorraine. These last few weeks he’d been most uncontent with himself and those around him. No fabric, costume or model was enough for him and when he got angry he drank... a lot. Phillipe had told him it was too much. This wasn’t acceptable behaviour for a man inside the palace to which the Chevalier turned on his heel and trotted off down the vast hallways. He was visiting the palace less and less but when he did return he always seemed guilty, drunk or high. Phillipe knew he was out of control but as ever with the Chevalier, there was never much he could do about it. So he left. Phillipe took the job in Bordeaux and rode that night. He spent the night in another palace with another set of noblemen and women trying his best to look... happy. There was no denying it was difficult but there was a worse sight that may be waiting for him if he returned to Versaille. The whole ride back, Phillipe ran their last conversation over in his head. “You must stop. Any more of these... potions and you will destroy yourself.” The Chevalier had simply smiled and taken another sip of wine. “Good. There is nothing good left in Versailles.” Phillipe had bit his lip and slammed the door of their bedroom. There was no reasoning to be done. No understanding to be had but now... now he had to return home and face the mess that had been left behind.
(Part 1 of ...)
