Darkness and Light, chapter 5
Jun. 26th, 2016 11:01 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
scripsiAfter two days of perfect weather, the rain is now pouring down. The forecast says only until Noon, so I thought I could use that this to finish this fic, which was annoyingly “almost finished” when my vacation started. I’m quite pleased with it, even if I surprised myself with writing a love story with a happy ending. Well, a happy-ish love story anyway, the hero really isn’t a hero and even if he behaves himself here, he hasn’t really redeemed himself. I’m not all that much into the trope of a bad guy being bad to everyone but that one special person, and here I am having written something that at least rubs shoulders with that trope. I must be turning soft in my old age.
Title: Darkness and Light
Fandom: Versailles
Rating: All ages
Genre: Drama
Word Count: 1642
Chapter: 5/5
Characters/pairing: Fabien Marchal/Claudine Masson, Monsieur Bontemps
Warnings: Mentions of blood.
Summary: Fabien 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.
As the days passed after the Princess death, Claudine returned to her normal routines. She helped those who came knocking on her door and she went to court when summoned. And all the while she worked, her thoughts were constantly on Fabien. At first she told herself it was because she worried his wound would be infected, but he healed without complications. He came by a few times so she could be certain all was well, but eventually she had to concede he had no more need of her attentions.
Then she decided she merely thought of him because she tried to puzzle out who her father’s killer was. Fabien had not told her and she hadn’t dared to press the question, but she still wondered. She had never taken part in the court gossip, but now she listened with a keen ear to the whispers in the halls and corridors of Versailles. It was easy to learn which of the court ladies whom were no longer present, and after overhearing a particular conversation, Claudine was sure she knew who was responsible for her father’s death.
She was walking down a staircase, just behind two elegant women. None of them bothering to lower their voices if they even noticed anyone was within earshot of them.
“It seems Madame de Clermont has gone back to Pau. Well, surely she will be back after a suitable number of months.”
“When she has regained her figure.”
“Indeed. Everyone knows how she has favoured Monsieur Marchal.”
“That brute. I can’t imagine what she saw in him.”
“You can’t, my dear? Oh, well, clearly Madame Clermont would disagree with you.”
The ladies burst out in a tinkling mean-spirited laugh and Claudine stopped and let them walk on so she wouldn’t hear anything more. She remembered Madame Clermont well; a woman who was no longer young but still stunningly beautiful. A woman with hard eyes, but she was not alone in possessing that among the court ladies. There was a daughter too, an extremely pretty girl the same age as Claudine and to her vague relief, Mademoiselle Clermont was still at court. Claudine wondered if she knew what had happened to her mother. She rather thought so as she saw the girl glide through the throngs of beautifully dressed people, smiling a sweet smile which didn’t seem to reach her eyes.
There was a certain relief in knowledge, and though she felt no happiness over Madame Clermont’s death, it still gave some peace of mind knowing her father had been avenged. But her enlightenment also brought a new and unexpected misery. Madame de Clermont had been sophisticated and experienced. Even if Claudine had possessed the fine clothes and impeccable manners of a noblewoman, she would still have been as different from Madame Clermont as night was from day. It should not bother her, she had always strived to be clean and presentable, but had never cared for the finery and trinkets other girls hankered after. She had found her men’s clothes vastly more practical and comfortable to wear and did not miss her gowns. Now she went home and stared into her mirror for a long time. She had been told she was pretty, Fabien had even said so too, but though her features were pleasant and well-formed enough, she had nothing of the radiant allure of Madame Clermont.
“And I wouldn’t want it either”, she firmly told her mirror image. For all her beauty and grace, Madame Clermont had been a killer, and Fabien Marchal had shown no mercy, regardless of what he had felt for her.
But she still felt miserable and eventually she had to confess to herself that she cared for Monsieur Marchal in a way she had not thought possible. She sternly told herself her sentiments were unwise and in her mind she heard the admonishments in her father’s dry voice;
“How can you form an attachment to a man like that? Daughter, I always thought you such an intelligent girl, how can you be so foolish? You know he is not worthy of you; a heartless and cold-blooded man like that.”
But Fabien had been kind to her in his own way and even if she didn’t understood him, he seemed to understand her. Starved of companionship as she was, it was perhaps not so peculiar if she felt fondness for the only one who had offered her a measure of sympathy since her father’s death. It may make her a fool, but who would know if she felt a secret joy because Fabien Marchal lived and breathed? No one at all, least of all Fabien himself who, she was sure, could only think of her in terms of her usefulness and nothing else.
She often saw him in crowds around the King, both of them being satellites to the sun, but though he gave her a nod when they met, he did not speak to her. There was no reason to, unless he needed her medical knowledge and, Claudine felt, that was for the best. So she was very surprised when he knocked on her door late one evening. He strode into the room, barely acknowledging her and placed a book on the table.
“I found it in Paris, quite by chance, but I thought it may interest you.”
He sounded brusque, as if he didn’t care if she found it interesting, or not, but he seemed to have come for no other purpose than to gift her with it. Claudine leafed through the pages, her interest instantly piqued. The book was filled with drawings, interspersed with notes in a small but easily read hand. The drawings were detailed and skilfully made and Claudine felt a stir of excitement. The book must have belonged to a physician, and she already looked forward to read it.
“Thank you”, she said and turned her head toward Fabien, only to find he was much closer than she had realised. He stood just behind her and bewildered she turned back to her book. He came closer, and she became acutely how close hís body was to hers. His scent, by now so familiar to her, seemed to embrace her and she found it hard to breathe properly. The feeling intensified when he stretched out his arm and traced the outline of a drawing, very close to where her hand rested.
“Are you afraid of me, Claudine?”
“I should be, I know, but no, I’m not.”
“If the King-”
“If I fall from grace, you will follow the King’s orders, no matter what they contain. I don’t doubt it.”
“Yes, I will.”
He fell silent and Claudine watched their hands so close together. She did not have the white and dainty fingers of a lady, but her hand still looked very small next to his.
“Do you want me to leave?”
She did not. “Please stay.”
Claudine placed her hand on his. Fabien exhaled sharply, but he didn’t move. Still she snatched her hand back, blushing over her own daring.
“Do you still want the answer to the question you asked me?”
“I do.”
“It might not please you much.”
Claudine turned so she could look at him. She had got used to read his face where very little emotions ever showed, and there was a sense of turmoil under the calmness of his face.
“It doesn’t matter. How can I decide upon an action if I don’t know the truth?”
He smiled briefly, but then turned serious again..
“I guess you have an idea who she was by now?”
Claudine nodded, and he continued.
“She was a very beautiful woman. Love don’t come easily for a man like me, and she went to my head like wine. I was a fool who let myself be intoxicated by her face and form though I knew a lady like her would have nothing to do with the likes of me without reasons. She was a dream come flesh, but no, I did not love her. Inside she was tainted and twisted, she would have made her own daughter a whore is that had advanced her plans. And now she is dead.”
“Mademoiselle Clermont is still alive.”
“She was not her mother’s accomplish. But don’t delude yourself I let her be out of compassion- she remains here because I find her useful. I’m not a good man.”
“I know. But I think you are a honest man.”
He looked surprised. “Perhaps. And what do you think I can be for you? I have nothing to offer but death.”
She looked at him carefully. Over time his face and body had grown familiar to her, and she had touched him many times in the course of her profession, Now it was just Claudine the girl who tentatively touched his cheek. He closed his eyes, letting her fingers explore his cheekbones and forehead, tracing his lips before she stood on her toes and kissed him with her lips closed. When she stood back he had opened them again, his dark eyes betraying no emotions.
“What do you see when you look at me, Fabien?”
He looked at her for an intense moment before he spoke.
“I see everything I am not. I see how your eyes shine with compassion like light in darkness. I see beauty and virtue. I see truth.”
She let out her breath a little shakingly. If she had once dreamt of declarations of love they had never sounded like this and they had never been told by a man like Fabien Marchal. Perhaps she would regret her decisions one day, but not now- now she felt happy.
“I will trust it will be enough.”
He took her face in his hand and kissed her then and Claudine twined her arms around him and kissed him back.
Title: Darkness and Light
Fandom: Versailles
Rating: All ages
Genre: Drama
Word Count: 1642
Chapter: 5/5
Characters/pairing: Fabien Marchal/Claudine Masson, Monsieur Bontemps
Warnings: Mentions of blood.
Summary: Fabien 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.
As the days passed after the Princess death, Claudine returned to her normal routines. She helped those who came knocking on her door and she went to court when summoned. And all the while she worked, her thoughts were constantly on Fabien. At first she told herself it was because she worried his wound would be infected, but he healed without complications. He came by a few times so she could be certain all was well, but eventually she had to concede he had no more need of her attentions.
Then she decided she merely thought of him because she tried to puzzle out who her father’s killer was. Fabien had not told her and she hadn’t dared to press the question, but she still wondered. She had never taken part in the court gossip, but now she listened with a keen ear to the whispers in the halls and corridors of Versailles. It was easy to learn which of the court ladies whom were no longer present, and after overhearing a particular conversation, Claudine was sure she knew who was responsible for her father’s death.
She was walking down a staircase, just behind two elegant women. None of them bothering to lower their voices if they even noticed anyone was within earshot of them.
“It seems Madame de Clermont has gone back to Pau. Well, surely she will be back after a suitable number of months.”
“When she has regained her figure.”
“Indeed. Everyone knows how she has favoured Monsieur Marchal.”
“That brute. I can’t imagine what she saw in him.”
“You can’t, my dear? Oh, well, clearly Madame Clermont would disagree with you.”
The ladies burst out in a tinkling mean-spirited laugh and Claudine stopped and let them walk on so she wouldn’t hear anything more. She remembered Madame Clermont well; a woman who was no longer young but still stunningly beautiful. A woman with hard eyes, but she was not alone in possessing that among the court ladies. There was a daughter too, an extremely pretty girl the same age as Claudine and to her vague relief, Mademoiselle Clermont was still at court. Claudine wondered if she knew what had happened to her mother. She rather thought so as she saw the girl glide through the throngs of beautifully dressed people, smiling a sweet smile which didn’t seem to reach her eyes.
There was a certain relief in knowledge, and though she felt no happiness over Madame Clermont’s death, it still gave some peace of mind knowing her father had been avenged. But her enlightenment also brought a new and unexpected misery. Madame de Clermont had been sophisticated and experienced. Even if Claudine had possessed the fine clothes and impeccable manners of a noblewoman, she would still have been as different from Madame Clermont as night was from day. It should not bother her, she had always strived to be clean and presentable, but had never cared for the finery and trinkets other girls hankered after. She had found her men’s clothes vastly more practical and comfortable to wear and did not miss her gowns. Now she went home and stared into her mirror for a long time. She had been told she was pretty, Fabien had even said so too, but though her features were pleasant and well-formed enough, she had nothing of the radiant allure of Madame Clermont.
“And I wouldn’t want it either”, she firmly told her mirror image. For all her beauty and grace, Madame Clermont had been a killer, and Fabien Marchal had shown no mercy, regardless of what he had felt for her.
But she still felt miserable and eventually she had to confess to herself that she cared for Monsieur Marchal in a way she had not thought possible. She sternly told herself her sentiments were unwise and in her mind she heard the admonishments in her father’s dry voice;
“How can you form an attachment to a man like that? Daughter, I always thought you such an intelligent girl, how can you be so foolish? You know he is not worthy of you; a heartless and cold-blooded man like that.”
But Fabien had been kind to her in his own way and even if she didn’t understood him, he seemed to understand her. Starved of companionship as she was, it was perhaps not so peculiar if she felt fondness for the only one who had offered her a measure of sympathy since her father’s death. It may make her a fool, but who would know if she felt a secret joy because Fabien Marchal lived and breathed? No one at all, least of all Fabien himself who, she was sure, could only think of her in terms of her usefulness and nothing else.
She often saw him in crowds around the King, both of them being satellites to the sun, but though he gave her a nod when they met, he did not speak to her. There was no reason to, unless he needed her medical knowledge and, Claudine felt, that was for the best. So she was very surprised when he knocked on her door late one evening. He strode into the room, barely acknowledging her and placed a book on the table.
“I found it in Paris, quite by chance, but I thought it may interest you.”
He sounded brusque, as if he didn’t care if she found it interesting, or not, but he seemed to have come for no other purpose than to gift her with it. Claudine leafed through the pages, her interest instantly piqued. The book was filled with drawings, interspersed with notes in a small but easily read hand. The drawings were detailed and skilfully made and Claudine felt a stir of excitement. The book must have belonged to a physician, and she already looked forward to read it.
“Thank you”, she said and turned her head toward Fabien, only to find he was much closer than she had realised. He stood just behind her and bewildered she turned back to her book. He came closer, and she became acutely how close hís body was to hers. His scent, by now so familiar to her, seemed to embrace her and she found it hard to breathe properly. The feeling intensified when he stretched out his arm and traced the outline of a drawing, very close to where her hand rested.
“Are you afraid of me, Claudine?”
“I should be, I know, but no, I’m not.”
“If the King-”
“If I fall from grace, you will follow the King’s orders, no matter what they contain. I don’t doubt it.”
“Yes, I will.”
He fell silent and Claudine watched their hands so close together. She did not have the white and dainty fingers of a lady, but her hand still looked very small next to his.
“Do you want me to leave?”
She did not. “Please stay.”
Claudine placed her hand on his. Fabien exhaled sharply, but he didn’t move. Still she snatched her hand back, blushing over her own daring.
“Do you still want the answer to the question you asked me?”
“I do.”
“It might not please you much.”
Claudine turned so she could look at him. She had got used to read his face where very little emotions ever showed, and there was a sense of turmoil under the calmness of his face.
“It doesn’t matter. How can I decide upon an action if I don’t know the truth?”
He smiled briefly, but then turned serious again..
“I guess you have an idea who she was by now?”
Claudine nodded, and he continued.
“She was a very beautiful woman. Love don’t come easily for a man like me, and she went to my head like wine. I was a fool who let myself be intoxicated by her face and form though I knew a lady like her would have nothing to do with the likes of me without reasons. She was a dream come flesh, but no, I did not love her. Inside she was tainted and twisted, she would have made her own daughter a whore is that had advanced her plans. And now she is dead.”
“Mademoiselle Clermont is still alive.”
“She was not her mother’s accomplish. But don’t delude yourself I let her be out of compassion- she remains here because I find her useful. I’m not a good man.”
“I know. But I think you are a honest man.”
He looked surprised. “Perhaps. And what do you think I can be for you? I have nothing to offer but death.”
She looked at him carefully. Over time his face and body had grown familiar to her, and she had touched him many times in the course of her profession, Now it was just Claudine the girl who tentatively touched his cheek. He closed his eyes, letting her fingers explore his cheekbones and forehead, tracing his lips before she stood on her toes and kissed him with her lips closed. When she stood back he had opened them again, his dark eyes betraying no emotions.
“What do you see when you look at me, Fabien?”
He looked at her for an intense moment before he spoke.
“I see everything I am not. I see how your eyes shine with compassion like light in darkness. I see beauty and virtue. I see truth.”
She let out her breath a little shakingly. If she had once dreamt of declarations of love they had never sounded like this and they had never been told by a man like Fabien Marchal. Perhaps she would regret her decisions one day, but not now- now she felt happy.
“I will trust it will be enough.”
He took her face in his hand and kissed her then and Claudine twined her arms around him and kissed him back.
