Remembrance, part 1
Jan. 2nd, 2018 10:13 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
scripsiTitle: Remembrance
Fandom: Versailles
Rating: Explicit
Word Count: 880
Characters Sophie de Clermont, Fabien Marchal, Claudine Masson, Duc de Cassel
Pairings: Fabien Marchal/Sophie de Clermont, Fabien Marchal/Claudine Masson
Warnings: Non-con and abuse, which reference events in the show.
Summary: Sophie de Clermont has fled Versailles, with nowhere to go and only her memories for company.
On AO3
Prologue
Sophie woke up to her husband's hands tearing her nightdress, his body pressing her down into the bed. She struggled against him, and he laughed, only growing more eager by her fear. Sophie twisted this way and that, one of her hands broke free, and she reached out for her mother.
“Help me”, she pleaded, wondering why her mother was just standing there as if she couldn’t see the man violating her daughter. “Mother, make him stop. Please!”
Beatrice suddenly took a step forward, pressing a small flask into her daughter’s hand. Sophie didn’t want it, she knew what it contained, but when she opened her lips to protest, Cassel’s mouth was upon her’s, suffocating her. When the kiss broke, her mother was gone, but to Sophie’s relief Thomas was there instead. His hands closed around Cassel’s throat, but as Thomas choked him, it was Sophie who couldn’t breathe. It felt like she was drowning, she fought desperately for air, and she was awake. Gasping she sat up in bed, stifling the cry which tried to break free, then she realised it had been a nightmare, and she was alone. All alone. Her mother was long gone, and now both her husband and lover were dead too.
Sophie lay down again, turning to her side and curling up into a tight ball, willing herself not to cry The nightmare was not a new one, it had plagued her every night since her flight from Versailles, and she knew she would not sleep more tonight. Wide awake her thoughts invariably went to her current situation, and what she was to do next.
Panic had made her flee Versailles, and when she had calmed down enough to realise it had been a foolish thing to do, it had been too late to return. If she had remained calm she would have been safe; Fabien Marchal had told her so. She could have taken her place as an honourable widow at court, her secrets safe with him. But she had fled from the dead body of a spy, and she could not believe Fabien would still protect her, not now.
The first few hours of her flight she had just let her horse run, her only thought to put as much ground between her and Versailles as was possible.When she had paused, Sophie had strained her ears after pursuers, but she heard nothing. When she was too tired to ride she had rested in the woods, cold and miserable, and with a growing alarm over her actions. At daybreak she had found a road, and eventually a village with an inn. Sophie had been keenly aware of the odd glances she was given; a noblewoman did not travel alone, but she put up her chin and treated everyone so haughty no one questioned her. Every time she had heard horses in the yard she had expected Fabien, but no one came. The next day she hired a man to escort her to the next small town where she had found a room to rent from an old widow. And here she had remained.
What else could she do? Sophie had no idea what to do next. She had nowhere to go. Thomas had intended to take her to the court of William of Orange, but without him she was not sure she would be welcomed. What interest could the Prince have in her; she didn’t even have any information to trade. And she would not want to. Despite everything that had happened to her, she was still a Frenchwoman, and she was not a traitor.
But she dared to go back to Versailles and face the King’s wrath, so her only choice was to stay were she was. For now, because it could only be a temporary solution. Sophie’s purse had not been well-filled when she left, and the money was dwindling rapidly. When her few coins were gone, Sophie would have nothing. Cassel had been impoverished a long time ago, and the dowry the King had given her had been squandered as well. Perhaps there was something settled for her widowhood, but to claim it she would have to return to Versailles. Without family and without skills, the only thing Sophie possessed now were her youth and her beauty. She could put a price on her body, but the thought of letting yet another man use her, made her feel sick. But soon, very soon she must decide what to do.
Over and over again Sophie went through her limited options. At dawn she rose, still without an answer. She got dressed and made sure her little room was neat and tidy. Then the whole day lay ahead of her, with nothing to do but to fill it with her thoughts. Tired of trying to find a resolution to her dilemma, Sophie tried to find comfort in her memories of Thomas instead. But his voice was already faint, and when she tried to remember his face, the outline of him seemed vague. What kind of woman was she if she could forget her love so quickly? Miserable, Sophie tried to remember their first dance, the first kiss, but unbidden her thoughts only conjured up the visage of another man; Fabien Marchal.
Fandom: Versailles
Rating: Explicit
Word Count: 880
Characters Sophie de Clermont, Fabien Marchal, Claudine Masson, Duc de Cassel
Pairings: Fabien Marchal/Sophie de Clermont, Fabien Marchal/Claudine Masson
Warnings: Non-con and abuse, which reference events in the show.
Summary: Sophie de Clermont has fled Versailles, with nowhere to go and only her memories for company.
On AO3
Prologue
Sophie woke up to her husband's hands tearing her nightdress, his body pressing her down into the bed. She struggled against him, and he laughed, only growing more eager by her fear. Sophie twisted this way and that, one of her hands broke free, and she reached out for her mother.
“Help me”, she pleaded, wondering why her mother was just standing there as if she couldn’t see the man violating her daughter. “Mother, make him stop. Please!”
Beatrice suddenly took a step forward, pressing a small flask into her daughter’s hand. Sophie didn’t want it, she knew what it contained, but when she opened her lips to protest, Cassel’s mouth was upon her’s, suffocating her. When the kiss broke, her mother was gone, but to Sophie’s relief Thomas was there instead. His hands closed around Cassel’s throat, but as Thomas choked him, it was Sophie who couldn’t breathe. It felt like she was drowning, she fought desperately for air, and she was awake. Gasping she sat up in bed, stifling the cry which tried to break free, then she realised it had been a nightmare, and she was alone. All alone. Her mother was long gone, and now both her husband and lover were dead too.
Sophie lay down again, turning to her side and curling up into a tight ball, willing herself not to cry The nightmare was not a new one, it had plagued her every night since her flight from Versailles, and she knew she would not sleep more tonight. Wide awake her thoughts invariably went to her current situation, and what she was to do next.
Panic had made her flee Versailles, and when she had calmed down enough to realise it had been a foolish thing to do, it had been too late to return. If she had remained calm she would have been safe; Fabien Marchal had told her so. She could have taken her place as an honourable widow at court, her secrets safe with him. But she had fled from the dead body of a spy, and she could not believe Fabien would still protect her, not now.
The first few hours of her flight she had just let her horse run, her only thought to put as much ground between her and Versailles as was possible.When she had paused, Sophie had strained her ears after pursuers, but she heard nothing. When she was too tired to ride she had rested in the woods, cold and miserable, and with a growing alarm over her actions. At daybreak she had found a road, and eventually a village with an inn. Sophie had been keenly aware of the odd glances she was given; a noblewoman did not travel alone, but she put up her chin and treated everyone so haughty no one questioned her. Every time she had heard horses in the yard she had expected Fabien, but no one came. The next day she hired a man to escort her to the next small town where she had found a room to rent from an old widow. And here she had remained.
What else could she do? Sophie had no idea what to do next. She had nowhere to go. Thomas had intended to take her to the court of William of Orange, but without him she was not sure she would be welcomed. What interest could the Prince have in her; she didn’t even have any information to trade. And she would not want to. Despite everything that had happened to her, she was still a Frenchwoman, and she was not a traitor.
But she dared to go back to Versailles and face the King’s wrath, so her only choice was to stay were she was. For now, because it could only be a temporary solution. Sophie’s purse had not been well-filled when she left, and the money was dwindling rapidly. When her few coins were gone, Sophie would have nothing. Cassel had been impoverished a long time ago, and the dowry the King had given her had been squandered as well. Perhaps there was something settled for her widowhood, but to claim it she would have to return to Versailles. Without family and without skills, the only thing Sophie possessed now were her youth and her beauty. She could put a price on her body, but the thought of letting yet another man use her, made her feel sick. But soon, very soon she must decide what to do.
Over and over again Sophie went through her limited options. At dawn she rose, still without an answer. She got dressed and made sure her little room was neat and tidy. Then the whole day lay ahead of her, with nothing to do but to fill it with her thoughts. Tired of trying to find a resolution to her dilemma, Sophie tried to find comfort in her memories of Thomas instead. But his voice was already faint, and when she tried to remember his face, the outline of him seemed vague. What kind of woman was she if she could forget her love so quickly? Miserable, Sophie tried to remember their first dance, the first kiss, but unbidden her thoughts only conjured up the visage of another man; Fabien Marchal.
