Darkness and Light, chapter 2
May. 15th, 2016 06:22 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
scripsiI managed to get my husband hooked on Versailles and while he has watched I have been writing and peeked at those scenes I liked best. I have developed a full blown crush on Tygh Runyan, while I’m at it.
Title: Darkness and Light
Fandom: Versailles
Rating: All ages
Genre: Drama
Word Count: 891
Chapter: 2/4
Characters/pairing: Fabien Marchal/Claudine Masson, Monsieur Bontemps
Warnings: Mentions of blood.
Summary: The King has trusted Claudine Masson with his life. Can Fabien Marchal trust her too?
AN: I started to write this fic after watching episode 5 which made me think there was an interesting dynamic between Fabien and Claudine. Two very different persons but who both serve the King. I was very happy when the rest of the season provided a few more scenes between them.
The king has taken to a fever and Claudine is sent for. Takes place during episode 7.
Claudine stared up at Monsieur Bontemps in incomprehension. How could she leave her father? Then his meaning crystallised and took form in her mind. A choice; to save her father or to save the King and with him, France. She looked down on her father and saw the blood seeping out of his mouth and his ashen face. No, it was not her choice because she could not save him no matter what she did. Her choice was to either watch helplessly as he died or go to the King. It ought to make her decision easier, but she still clutched her father in her arms, hoping he would regain consciousness and speak to her one last time, though she knew he never would.
"We must leave”, Bontemps repeated and Claudine knew what she had to do. She carefully laid her father down, trying to make him comfortable even if he would never know it. With as much haste as possible she splashed water on her hands, washing away the blood, before she collected her remedies. It was then she noticed her father’s casket and saw the empty compartment. She found the bottle, lying where her father must have been sitting when he first started to vomit blood. It was empty, but when she sniffed it, the smell was not quite what she expected from what she knew it was supposed to contain.
She considered telling Monsieur Bontemps of the terrible suspicion growing in her mind, but when she saw his anguished face, she kept quiet. He ought to know, he must be told, but perhaps it would be kinder to not add yet another worry right now. And he wasn’t the man to deal with it, Claudine knew. There was another man who would be better equipped to take care of threats towards the King.
Finding the King’s bedroom without the King deepened Bontemps worry to real fear and Claudine was left alone while he went to search. She walked restlessly around the room, blind to its grandeur. Forced inactivity when she had expected to be hard at work was not welcome. The thoughts she didn’t want to dwell on swirled in her mind. Tears, yet unshed, rose in her eyes and she blinked hard, fighting to keep them away.
The doors burst open and Fabien Marchal walked in, taking in her presence and the King’s absence in one quick glance around the room.
“Where is his Majesty?”
“I don’t know. We came back, and he was gone. Monsieur Bontemps is searching for him.”
He turned to leave, but then he gave her another glance and took a few long strides back towards her.
“Who made this?” he demanded, putting his hand under her chin and turning her head so he could better see the wound on her temple and the bruise on her cheek. “Who dares to strike the King’s doctor?”
“My father,” she answered, her voice quivering slightly.
Marchal’s brows furrowed. “Your father! I will speak to him.”
Claudine opened her mouth, but her grief welled up inside and rendered her unable to speak. Instead she put a hand to his chest as if that alone could make him understand.
“What’s the matter, girl. Speak up!” His tone was harsh, but he didn’t remove her hand. She could sense his heartbeats through her palm, slow and steady and it steadied her and she found her words again.
“It’s not that he hit me. He was angry, yes, and I lost conscience But when I woke up he was laying beside me, dying.”
“Dying?”
“Yes. And oh, that’s not all. I think- I’m almost sure he was poisoned. He had drunk a cordial he thought would calm him, but there was something wrong with it. And Monsieur Marchal, it was the same potion he wanted to give to the King!”
With those words Claudine’s self control abandoned her and the despair she had tried to push away suddenly washed over her in a great flood. More by instinct than reason she took a step forward and buried her face at Marchal’s breast. The fine cloth of his doublet against her skin and the warm scent of his perfume felt comforting. In that moment she could think of no better solace than to stand there and cry into the chest of the most dangerous man in France. She could feel him tense, but then he almost gingerly put his hand on the back of her head and held her for a moment. Then he gently pushed her away, placing his hands on her shoulders and looked her straight in the eyes.
“There will be time to mourn your father later. Now you must do your duty and I will go to mine. You will heal the King and I promise you I will find out who is responsible for your father’s death. They will not escape me.”
He raised his hand to her cheek, wiping away the tears.
“You can do this. You must.”
Claudine swallowed and nodded. “Yes, yes I can. I will not weaken again.”
After he left, Claudine sorted her medicines and tools, preparing to have everything ready when they returned with the king. She was the King’s doctor, and she had work to do. After she could be her father’s daughter, again.
Title: Darkness and Light
Fandom: Versailles
Rating: All ages
Genre: Drama
Word Count: 891
Chapter: 2/4
Characters/pairing: Fabien Marchal/Claudine Masson, Monsieur Bontemps
Warnings: Mentions of blood.
Summary: The King has trusted Claudine Masson with his life. Can Fabien Marchal trust her too?
AN: I started to write this fic after watching episode 5 which made me think there was an interesting dynamic between Fabien and Claudine. Two very different persons but who both serve the King. I was very happy when the rest of the season provided a few more scenes between them.
The king has taken to a fever and Claudine is sent for. Takes place during episode 7.
Claudine stared up at Monsieur Bontemps in incomprehension. How could she leave her father? Then his meaning crystallised and took form in her mind. A choice; to save her father or to save the King and with him, France. She looked down on her father and saw the blood seeping out of his mouth and his ashen face. No, it was not her choice because she could not save him no matter what she did. Her choice was to either watch helplessly as he died or go to the King. It ought to make her decision easier, but she still clutched her father in her arms, hoping he would regain consciousness and speak to her one last time, though she knew he never would.
"We must leave”, Bontemps repeated and Claudine knew what she had to do. She carefully laid her father down, trying to make him comfortable even if he would never know it. With as much haste as possible she splashed water on her hands, washing away the blood, before she collected her remedies. It was then she noticed her father’s casket and saw the empty compartment. She found the bottle, lying where her father must have been sitting when he first started to vomit blood. It was empty, but when she sniffed it, the smell was not quite what she expected from what she knew it was supposed to contain.
She considered telling Monsieur Bontemps of the terrible suspicion growing in her mind, but when she saw his anguished face, she kept quiet. He ought to know, he must be told, but perhaps it would be kinder to not add yet another worry right now. And he wasn’t the man to deal with it, Claudine knew. There was another man who would be better equipped to take care of threats towards the King.
Finding the King’s bedroom without the King deepened Bontemps worry to real fear and Claudine was left alone while he went to search. She walked restlessly around the room, blind to its grandeur. Forced inactivity when she had expected to be hard at work was not welcome. The thoughts she didn’t want to dwell on swirled in her mind. Tears, yet unshed, rose in her eyes and she blinked hard, fighting to keep them away.
The doors burst open and Fabien Marchal walked in, taking in her presence and the King’s absence in one quick glance around the room.
“Where is his Majesty?”
“I don’t know. We came back, and he was gone. Monsieur Bontemps is searching for him.”
He turned to leave, but then he gave her another glance and took a few long strides back towards her.
“Who made this?” he demanded, putting his hand under her chin and turning her head so he could better see the wound on her temple and the bruise on her cheek. “Who dares to strike the King’s doctor?”
“My father,” she answered, her voice quivering slightly.
Marchal’s brows furrowed. “Your father! I will speak to him.”
Claudine opened her mouth, but her grief welled up inside and rendered her unable to speak. Instead she put a hand to his chest as if that alone could make him understand.
“What’s the matter, girl. Speak up!” His tone was harsh, but he didn’t remove her hand. She could sense his heartbeats through her palm, slow and steady and it steadied her and she found her words again.
“It’s not that he hit me. He was angry, yes, and I lost conscience But when I woke up he was laying beside me, dying.”
“Dying?”
“Yes. And oh, that’s not all. I think- I’m almost sure he was poisoned. He had drunk a cordial he thought would calm him, but there was something wrong with it. And Monsieur Marchal, it was the same potion he wanted to give to the King!”
With those words Claudine’s self control abandoned her and the despair she had tried to push away suddenly washed over her in a great flood. More by instinct than reason she took a step forward and buried her face at Marchal’s breast. The fine cloth of his doublet against her skin and the warm scent of his perfume felt comforting. In that moment she could think of no better solace than to stand there and cry into the chest of the most dangerous man in France. She could feel him tense, but then he almost gingerly put his hand on the back of her head and held her for a moment. Then he gently pushed her away, placing his hands on her shoulders and looked her straight in the eyes.
“There will be time to mourn your father later. Now you must do your duty and I will go to mine. You will heal the King and I promise you I will find out who is responsible for your father’s death. They will not escape me.”
He raised his hand to her cheek, wiping away the tears.
“You can do this. You must.”
Claudine swallowed and nodded. “Yes, yes I can. I will not weaken again.”
After he left, Claudine sorted her medicines and tools, preparing to have everything ready when they returned with the king. She was the King’s doctor, and she had work to do. After she could be her father’s daughter, again.
