Darkness and Light, chapter 3
May. 22nd, 2016 11:16 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
scripsiI got unstuck. :)
Title: Darkness and Light
Fandom: Versailles
Rating: All ages
Genre: Drama
Word Count: 1518
Chapter: 3/5
Characters/pairing: Fabien Marchal/Claudine Masson, Monsieur Bontemps
Warnings: Mentions of blood.
Summary: TFabien Marchal kills for the King. Claudine Masson saves people’s life. They are very different, but both search for truth.
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.
This chapter takes place during episode 8, after Marchal has gone to Claudine for help. The remedies Claudine prescribes are actual 17th century medicines. I used The London Practice of Physick, Or The Whole Practical Part of Physick by Thomas Willis, Thomas Basset and William Crooke, published 1685 as a reference.
After his first outburst, Marchal let Claudine put the poultice on his inflamed eyes, securing it all with a piece of clean linen. He moved his head from side to side as if to get a sense of the surrounding room. Claudine felt a surge of pity. It must cost him to be rendered blind when the poison had already made him too vulnerable. She crouched beside him, putting her hand on his forehead which was clammy and cold.
“Do you know when you got the poison inside you?”
There was a tone of bitterness in his voice. “I coughed blood late last night and then it grew worse. I’m fairly sure it was given to me earlier in the evening.”
“I will give you Wine of Squills to drink now to help you purge as much poison as possible. It will be a very unpleasant night night for you, I’m afraid.”
“I imagine it will be worth it to survive.”
When he had drunk the cordial she helped him to her father’s bed. It was slow work as cramps made him stop several times, doubling over in pain. Claudine stayed by his side the whole night, watching poison and cure fight over his body. She was not at all sure he would survive, there had been many hours for the position to do its damage. But by her estimate he had got a smaller dose than her father had and he was also in his prime, strong and healthy. The attacks grew less frequent and less violent as the night passed and she felt more and more certain he would make it through the ordeal..
By dawn the attacks had waned and the ugly marks on Marchal’s skin had faded. Claudine allowed herself to rest for a few hours. When she awoke he was sleeping, but when she touched his arm to wake him up, he woke up much more abruptly than she had expected. Before she could react he seized her wrist and dragged her down on the bed, twisting so he was on top, his body heavy and hard against hers. Her arms were painfully wrenched up above her head and she almost cried out in pain. Then she realised he wasn’t fully awake, and though her first impulse was to fight, she willed herself to lay still instead, and spoke in a voice sounding much calmer than she felt..
“Monsieur Marchal. Fabien. Let go of me. You know who I am and you know I’m not going to harm you. But you are hurting me right now. Please, let go.”
For a moment nothing happened, but then he relaxed and moved away from her, releasing her as he did so. Claudine sat up and massaged her wrists. She felt a bit shaken, she had forgotten he was a man for whom violence came all too easily.
“I apologise.”
“You were startled and I imagine your nerves played a trick on you. How do you feel now?”
“Better, I believe.The pain is fading. I’m thirsty. What is your judgement, physician?”
“You will live. For now I will only give you chamomile tea, but if you continue to improve you can have broth to drink later.”
“And my eyes?”
“A few more days. I will have a better idea of when after I have changed the bandages. You will need to rest and build your strength, anyway.”
Marchal sighed and turned away from her, but Claudine studied him carefully for a few moments. In the hazy state between dream and consciousness he must have mistaken her for the person who had poisoned him. He knew who it was, she was certain of that and he was angry over it, but she could also sense he felt betrayed and hurt. Suddenly she was sure it must be a woman who had done this to him, a woman he knew. Perhaps even loved, or at least trusted well enough to let his guard down.
Later, when he asked her about love potions, her suspicions was confirmed. She wondered who this woman could be. Most likely one of the beautiful and elegant ladies of the court. They never noticed her, but she had watched them in their glittering clothes and complicated hairstyles. To her they all seemed like gaily chattering birds and she found it surprised her a little that someone like Fabien Marchal would be interested in such a woman. A woman who must be play a very dangerous game she didn’t want Marchal to find out about. And who must also be responsible for her father’s death.
They day passed with no relapses, even though Marchal’s eyes were still much too inflamed when Claudine checked. She went on with her usual work, making sure to draw the bed curtains to hide him every time someone came to the house. By evening, after being able to drink some broth, he had enough strength to sit up in bed. Even if Marchal had accepted her orders of rest, she understood that for an active man this enforced immobility, paired with being sightless, must be very hard for him to endure. To distract him she talked about her work, describing what she was doing at her work table as she mixed herbs for cordials and potions. He asked her a few intelligent questions, and soon Claudine was lost in the first real discussion she had had since her father died. She talked with plenty of people every day, but it had been a long time since she had spoken with someone who seemed to understand what she was talking about.
“You are not a stranger to the art of medicine”, she told him happily when she was cleaning away her day’s work.
“I like to read,” he answered, but then added. “And I have found that knowledge of human anatomy is useful for my line of work.”
Claudine felt suddenly cold. “You mean for-”
“For torture, yes” There was a slight pause. “You don’t approve.”
“I saw what you did to the man you brought here. I found it barbaric!”
After her outburst she was afraid she had provoked him, but he answered in an even voice.
“That man had robbed and murdered innocent people on the King’s road where they should have been safe. Should I not have tried to find out who employed him? Or do you think those men should have free rein?”
“No, no, of course not. I only wish there was no need to cause such pain and I wish the world wasn't like this. I guess you call me naive.”
“Somewhat perhaps. It’s a beautiful dream. My services wouldn’t be needed in a better world, but it’s not the world we live in. Do you think the King’s enemies would back down if he stopped trying to outmanoeuvre them? If I wasn’t here to do the bloody, dirty, jobs needed to protect him, do you think the King would still be alive? And you, surely you must know it’s only the King’s grace who allows you to live this life. Where would you be without it?”
Claudine blinked and paused. If the King hadn’t elevated her beyond the limits of her sex she would, at the best, do midwifery. And the worst, like a dark shadow in the back of her mind, there was the frightening accusation of witchcraft.
“I suppose you are right.”
“I am right. You think it’s distasteful, and it is, but it’s also necessary. The King’s foes are ruthless and they don’t care who is caught in their conspirations and what the cost will be. Like your father. No one could be certain the King would drink the poisoned potion and, indeed, it was not the King who suffered.”
A sharp pang of grief flashed through Claudine. “But you know who did it now? Who killed my father and tried to do the same to you?”
“I believe so. But I need more proof. I have been blind long before this,” he gestured at the bandages over his eyes. “And now when I can see again, I still don’t know if I want to condemn an innocent woman, or not. Right now my feelings tell me she is guilty, but am I right?. Perhaps it is as well I’m bound here for the moment so I can’t take any reckless actions.”
“But you will find out.”
“Oh yes, I will.”
A little later when Claudine brought him water, he stretched out a hand, feeling for hers and she gave it to him. He brought it closer to his face.
“I am sorry I hurt you- I should have known it was you this morning.”
“How so?”
He smiled. “The scent of orange blossoms and a light touch- who else could it be?”
Claudine blushed and tried to take her hand back, but he didn’t let go at once. “You saved my life. I thank you.”
Still flushed she retired but yet again could not sleep for a long time. Somehow Fabien Marchal seemed to have that effect on her.
Title: Darkness and Light
Fandom: Versailles
Rating: All ages
Genre: Drama
Word Count: 1518
Chapter: 3/5
Characters/pairing: Fabien Marchal/Claudine Masson, Monsieur Bontemps
Warnings: Mentions of blood.
Summary: TFabien Marchal kills for the King. Claudine Masson saves people’s life. They are very different, but both search for truth.
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.
This chapter takes place during episode 8, after Marchal has gone to Claudine for help. The remedies Claudine prescribes are actual 17th century medicines. I used The London Practice of Physick, Or The Whole Practical Part of Physick by Thomas Willis, Thomas Basset and William Crooke, published 1685 as a reference.
After his first outburst, Marchal let Claudine put the poultice on his inflamed eyes, securing it all with a piece of clean linen. He moved his head from side to side as if to get a sense of the surrounding room. Claudine felt a surge of pity. It must cost him to be rendered blind when the poison had already made him too vulnerable. She crouched beside him, putting her hand on his forehead which was clammy and cold.
“Do you know when you got the poison inside you?”
There was a tone of bitterness in his voice. “I coughed blood late last night and then it grew worse. I’m fairly sure it was given to me earlier in the evening.”
“I will give you Wine of Squills to drink now to help you purge as much poison as possible. It will be a very unpleasant night night for you, I’m afraid.”
“I imagine it will be worth it to survive.”
When he had drunk the cordial she helped him to her father’s bed. It was slow work as cramps made him stop several times, doubling over in pain. Claudine stayed by his side the whole night, watching poison and cure fight over his body. She was not at all sure he would survive, there had been many hours for the position to do its damage. But by her estimate he had got a smaller dose than her father had and he was also in his prime, strong and healthy. The attacks grew less frequent and less violent as the night passed and she felt more and more certain he would make it through the ordeal..
By dawn the attacks had waned and the ugly marks on Marchal’s skin had faded. Claudine allowed herself to rest for a few hours. When she awoke he was sleeping, but when she touched his arm to wake him up, he woke up much more abruptly than she had expected. Before she could react he seized her wrist and dragged her down on the bed, twisting so he was on top, his body heavy and hard against hers. Her arms were painfully wrenched up above her head and she almost cried out in pain. Then she realised he wasn’t fully awake, and though her first impulse was to fight, she willed herself to lay still instead, and spoke in a voice sounding much calmer than she felt..
“Monsieur Marchal. Fabien. Let go of me. You know who I am and you know I’m not going to harm you. But you are hurting me right now. Please, let go.”
For a moment nothing happened, but then he relaxed and moved away from her, releasing her as he did so. Claudine sat up and massaged her wrists. She felt a bit shaken, she had forgotten he was a man for whom violence came all too easily.
“I apologise.”
“You were startled and I imagine your nerves played a trick on you. How do you feel now?”
“Better, I believe.The pain is fading. I’m thirsty. What is your judgement, physician?”
“You will live. For now I will only give you chamomile tea, but if you continue to improve you can have broth to drink later.”
“And my eyes?”
“A few more days. I will have a better idea of when after I have changed the bandages. You will need to rest and build your strength, anyway.”
Marchal sighed and turned away from her, but Claudine studied him carefully for a few moments. In the hazy state between dream and consciousness he must have mistaken her for the person who had poisoned him. He knew who it was, she was certain of that and he was angry over it, but she could also sense he felt betrayed and hurt. Suddenly she was sure it must be a woman who had done this to him, a woman he knew. Perhaps even loved, or at least trusted well enough to let his guard down.
Later, when he asked her about love potions, her suspicions was confirmed. She wondered who this woman could be. Most likely one of the beautiful and elegant ladies of the court. They never noticed her, but she had watched them in their glittering clothes and complicated hairstyles. To her they all seemed like gaily chattering birds and she found it surprised her a little that someone like Fabien Marchal would be interested in such a woman. A woman who must be play a very dangerous game she didn’t want Marchal to find out about. And who must also be responsible for her father’s death.
They day passed with no relapses, even though Marchal’s eyes were still much too inflamed when Claudine checked. She went on with her usual work, making sure to draw the bed curtains to hide him every time someone came to the house. By evening, after being able to drink some broth, he had enough strength to sit up in bed. Even if Marchal had accepted her orders of rest, she understood that for an active man this enforced immobility, paired with being sightless, must be very hard for him to endure. To distract him she talked about her work, describing what she was doing at her work table as she mixed herbs for cordials and potions. He asked her a few intelligent questions, and soon Claudine was lost in the first real discussion she had had since her father died. She talked with plenty of people every day, but it had been a long time since she had spoken with someone who seemed to understand what she was talking about.
“You are not a stranger to the art of medicine”, she told him happily when she was cleaning away her day’s work.
“I like to read,” he answered, but then added. “And I have found that knowledge of human anatomy is useful for my line of work.”
Claudine felt suddenly cold. “You mean for-”
“For torture, yes” There was a slight pause. “You don’t approve.”
“I saw what you did to the man you brought here. I found it barbaric!”
After her outburst she was afraid she had provoked him, but he answered in an even voice.
“That man had robbed and murdered innocent people on the King’s road where they should have been safe. Should I not have tried to find out who employed him? Or do you think those men should have free rein?”
“No, no, of course not. I only wish there was no need to cause such pain and I wish the world wasn't like this. I guess you call me naive.”
“Somewhat perhaps. It’s a beautiful dream. My services wouldn’t be needed in a better world, but it’s not the world we live in. Do you think the King’s enemies would back down if he stopped trying to outmanoeuvre them? If I wasn’t here to do the bloody, dirty, jobs needed to protect him, do you think the King would still be alive? And you, surely you must know it’s only the King’s grace who allows you to live this life. Where would you be without it?”
Claudine blinked and paused. If the King hadn’t elevated her beyond the limits of her sex she would, at the best, do midwifery. And the worst, like a dark shadow in the back of her mind, there was the frightening accusation of witchcraft.
“I suppose you are right.”
“I am right. You think it’s distasteful, and it is, but it’s also necessary. The King’s foes are ruthless and they don’t care who is caught in their conspirations and what the cost will be. Like your father. No one could be certain the King would drink the poisoned potion and, indeed, it was not the King who suffered.”
A sharp pang of grief flashed through Claudine. “But you know who did it now? Who killed my father and tried to do the same to you?”
“I believe so. But I need more proof. I have been blind long before this,” he gestured at the bandages over his eyes. “And now when I can see again, I still don’t know if I want to condemn an innocent woman, or not. Right now my feelings tell me she is guilty, but am I right?. Perhaps it is as well I’m bound here for the moment so I can’t take any reckless actions.”
“But you will find out.”
“Oh yes, I will.”
A little later when Claudine brought him water, he stretched out a hand, feeling for hers and she gave it to him. He brought it closer to his face.
“I am sorry I hurt you- I should have known it was you this morning.”
“How so?”
He smiled. “The scent of orange blossoms and a light touch- who else could it be?”
Claudine blushed and tried to take her hand back, but he didn’t let go at once. “You saved my life. I thank you.”
Still flushed she retired but yet again could not sleep for a long time. Somehow Fabien Marchal seemed to have that effect on her.
