A Bewildered Heart, chapter 5
Apr. 14th, 2017 10:48 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
scripsiTitle: A Bewildered Heart
Fandom: Versailles
Rating: Teen
Genre: Drama
Word Count: 1860
Chapters: 5/5
Characters/pairing: Fabien Marchal/Sophie de Clermont.
Warnings: For this chapter; kink negotiations, mild painplay
Summary: Sophie de Clermont is settling down to her new role in life, but Fabien Marchal still disturbs her peace of mind. If not exactly the same was as before.
AN: For some reason, this chapter took ages to come together. I hope you will think it works. I’ve also lowered the rating. Originally I had intended to include some smut, and if there is an interest for it, I may post that bit as a separate part later.
For no better reason than boredom and frustration, Sophie had a love affair. A young and dashing vicomte with perfect cheekbones and bluest eyes she had ever seen, paid attention to her. Henri was gallant and attentive, pursuing her with poems about her beauty and endless praise of her virtues. In the convent she and the other girls had often discussed the perfect man, and Henri was everything she had dreamt of back then. To her surprise, she didn’t feel as excited as she had thought she would be, now when he had appeared.
The poetry was beautiful, and Henry knew how to deliver the lines with passionate fervor, but still Sophie’s mind wandered. Somehow it seemed like such a waste of time to her, a tedious wait for something more exciting. She longed for Henri to touch her, but when he finally did, he did it as gently as if she was a fragile porcelain figurine. Sophie almost snapped at him she wouldn’t break, but she knew he expected her to be demure and shy. If she had been the inexperienced virgin Henri thought she was, she would probably have appreciated it, but now it only left her dissatisfied. If she kissed him with more ardour than he thought fitting, he drew back in confusion, and Sophie had to will herself into passivity, killing what little desire she had felt for him.
It was also tiresome how Henri never cared for her opinions. She had got used to discuss her reading with Fabien, who relentlessly demanded her opinions. Now she found it an annoyance to be expected to listen to Henri’s views while her thoughts were superfluous and unwelcome. And above all he was too safe and predictable. After a few weeks Sophie had learnt Henri’s mannerisms and quirks, and she often knew what he was about to say, before he said it. But she continued to see him, because her friends envied her, and perhaps, because she hoped Fabien would acknowledge it. So far he had not commented on her liaison with Henri. Sophie hadn't told him about it, but she was sure he knew, and eventually he remarked upon it, proving her right.
“And when had you planned to tell me about your little dalliance with the vicomte?”
Sophie shrugged. “He is of no importance.”
“You are right. He is of no significance, and you will stop giving him attention. There are better venues for your charms.”
Her first reaction was to protest but then Sophie murmured her consent, earning a surprised glance. For a moment she thought Fabien would say more, but he dismissed her. Back in her room Sophie wondered why she hadn’t argued with him, at least for form's sake, but she didn’t want Henri, and to be truthful she felt it was a relief to let him go. The only thing her brief relation with him had given her, was the knowledge she wanted a man who dared to touch her like she wouldn’t break, and who didn’t object to her using her mind. And she knew who it was.
It was a sin, whichever way Sophie looked at it. A sin to want a man when she wasn’t married, but she had already broken that rule. A sin to want her mother’s lover. Surely a sin to want her mother’s executioner. But it was Fabien she desired, and though he seemed indifferent on the surface, she knew it was mutual. She had felt the heat and need from him the first time and it had been there when he kissed her. But he had not pursued it further, and Sophie realised it would be up to her. The wisest thing, she knew, was to move on and forget her ill-considered attachment, but she didn’t want to. For weeks she considered what she could do, and one day she sat down a wrote a note to Fabien, a few words asking him to come to her room in the late evening.
When Sophie became part of Madame de Montespan’s household she had been given a new room, closer to her mistress. It was not as large as the rooms she had shared with her mother, but still spacious enough with a large window; by the standards of Versailles she was very lucky. She had assumed it was Fabien’s influence; it was in his interest she was seen as someone with importance, but he had never been there. And she was not at all sure he would come. It was he who summoned her, dictating the when and where’s of their meetings. But tonight she needed to be in the place which belonged to her, not him.
Slightly nervous Sophie excused herself earlier than usual from the evening's entertainment and returned to her chamber. She allowed her maid to undress her and wrap her in a robe, not wanting Mariette to suspect something unusual would happen. When she had dismissed her maid, Sophie remained in front of her mirror, brushing her hair in long slow strokes to calm herself. The long tresses straightened by the tug of the brush, only to bounce back into glossy curls as she released them. It soothed her, but when there was a discreet knock on her door shortly after midnight, Sophie suddenly felt short of breath and there was an unpleasant fluttering sensation in her stomach. Without waiting for her answer the door opened, and Fabien slipped in. He glanced around the room, his alert eyes taking in everything before he crossed his arms and leaned back against the door.
“What is of such importance you couldn’t wait?”
“I needed to speak with you. You may be content with how things are between us, but I’m not. And I don’t think you are, either.”
Fabien remained leaning against the door, but Sophie noticed the muscles tensing in his neck, and his face became even more unreadable than usual.
“There are reasons, and you know them.”
“Yes. For one, you think I’m too young. But I’m not, not anymore, and you are partly to blame.”
He turned his hand slightly in acknowledgement.
“And then there is my mother. I know you loved her.”
Fabien’s jaw set, and he pushed himself away from the door. Sophie suppressed an impulse to back away from him as he approached her.
“You have a lot of gall to make presumptions about my feelings.”
“I know because talking about her makes you so angry. Only those we love can hurt us like that.” Sophie’s voice wavered, and she had to stop for a moment before she could continue. “I know, because I loved her too.”
She had not planned to cry, but tears rose in her eyes, and she had to stop speaking. Turning around, away from Fabien she swallowed angrily, pressing her hand hard to her mouth to stop the threatening sobs. He moved behind her, and then he placed his hand on her shoulder, only for a heartbeat or two before he removed it. Somehow it made her feel calmer.
“I’m not in love with you. It’s not that I’m trying to tell you.”
“What it is then?”
Sophie gave herself another moment to compose herself before she turned back to face Fabien.
“I have an offer for you.”
“Another one?”
There was a faint tinge of irony in his voice, and Sophie reddened.
“Madame once told me the most important thing is to belong, or you will be lost. I thought she meant to to be part of a place, but she was speaking of belonging to someone. I do; I’m yours. My offer is, you could belong to me.”
“Why would I want that?”
“Because I can give you something you want, which you don’t think you can have. I have been watching you.”
He raised an eyebrow at that.
“You have? And what has your observations told you?”
“Everyone is afraid of you.”
“That’s hardly difficult to see.”
“No. I suppose you find it useful.”
“It is. Is that all?”
“No. You are lonely too. I have talked with the maids. They are all terrified of you, but not because you make use of them, as many men here do.”
“I’m not in the habit of forcing women.”
“They also say there were no women before my mother- or after. You don’t frequent the bawdy houses in the village either, as far as I can tell. I guess it wouldn't be a very safe place for you to be vulnerable at. And if you don’t pay for your company, then it must be difficult for you to know if a woman is truly willing, or if she is afraid what you might do if she say no. ”
“So that is what you think?”
“Am I wrong?”
He didn’t answer, but Sophie took his silence as affirmation, and pressed on. She had said far too much now, to stop.
“Still, you are a man who enjoy your power over others. You like the power you have over me. You could make me do anything you want. But you don’t.”
“I told you; I don’t force women.”
Sophie stretched out a tentative hand and touched Fabien’s face, not knowing if he would let her, or not. But he turned his head briefly so his lips brushed over her fingers, and she dared to caress his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin and the slight stubble of a man who had shaved many hours ago.
“I know. But if we could belong to each other, you wouldn’t have to worry. What we did, I can’t stop thinking about it. I want more.”
She dared to take a step closer to him, still not sure if he would push her away again. Fabien didn’t move, but she could sense how tense he was.
“I asked you once what it is you want from a woman, but you didn't answer me. Now let me tell you this; I liked everything you did to me.”
Without daring to look away from Fabien's dark eyes which seemed to bore into her with an intensity she could almost feel like heat, Sophie took his hand, and lifted it against her throat.
“Everything. Even when you hurt me. That is what you like, is it not? And I I want you to do it again.”
Fabien drew in his breath sharply. His fingers tightened briefly then he shifted it to close inside her hair, painfully pulling her head back so far the her neck muscles protested under the strain.
“Like this?”
“Yes,” Sophie whispered.
Fabien’s other hand moved over her face, caressing it like she had caressed his, before it slipped down her arm, twisting her hand up behind her back as he had done once before. Sophie gasped when pain shot through her arm and shoulder. Last time she had been afraid, but now the reason to why her heart pounded so hard in her breast was excitement.
“And this too?”
“Yes. Please.”
She slipped her free arm around his neck and pulled him close. When he kissed her, Sophie could feel he was smiling.
End
Fandom: Versailles
Rating: Teen
Genre: Drama
Word Count: 1860
Chapters: 5/5
Characters/pairing: Fabien Marchal/Sophie de Clermont.
Warnings: For this chapter; kink negotiations, mild painplay
Summary: Sophie de Clermont is settling down to her new role in life, but Fabien Marchal still disturbs her peace of mind. If not exactly the same was as before.
AN: For some reason, this chapter took ages to come together. I hope you will think it works. I’ve also lowered the rating. Originally I had intended to include some smut, and if there is an interest for it, I may post that bit as a separate part later.
For no better reason than boredom and frustration, Sophie had a love affair. A young and dashing vicomte with perfect cheekbones and bluest eyes she had ever seen, paid attention to her. Henri was gallant and attentive, pursuing her with poems about her beauty and endless praise of her virtues. In the convent she and the other girls had often discussed the perfect man, and Henri was everything she had dreamt of back then. To her surprise, she didn’t feel as excited as she had thought she would be, now when he had appeared.
The poetry was beautiful, and Henry knew how to deliver the lines with passionate fervor, but still Sophie’s mind wandered. Somehow it seemed like such a waste of time to her, a tedious wait for something more exciting. She longed for Henri to touch her, but when he finally did, he did it as gently as if she was a fragile porcelain figurine. Sophie almost snapped at him she wouldn’t break, but she knew he expected her to be demure and shy. If she had been the inexperienced virgin Henri thought she was, she would probably have appreciated it, but now it only left her dissatisfied. If she kissed him with more ardour than he thought fitting, he drew back in confusion, and Sophie had to will herself into passivity, killing what little desire she had felt for him.
It was also tiresome how Henri never cared for her opinions. She had got used to discuss her reading with Fabien, who relentlessly demanded her opinions. Now she found it an annoyance to be expected to listen to Henri’s views while her thoughts were superfluous and unwelcome. And above all he was too safe and predictable. After a few weeks Sophie had learnt Henri’s mannerisms and quirks, and she often knew what he was about to say, before he said it. But she continued to see him, because her friends envied her, and perhaps, because she hoped Fabien would acknowledge it. So far he had not commented on her liaison with Henri. Sophie hadn't told him about it, but she was sure he knew, and eventually he remarked upon it, proving her right.
“And when had you planned to tell me about your little dalliance with the vicomte?”
Sophie shrugged. “He is of no importance.”
“You are right. He is of no significance, and you will stop giving him attention. There are better venues for your charms.”
Her first reaction was to protest but then Sophie murmured her consent, earning a surprised glance. For a moment she thought Fabien would say more, but he dismissed her. Back in her room Sophie wondered why she hadn’t argued with him, at least for form's sake, but she didn’t want Henri, and to be truthful she felt it was a relief to let him go. The only thing her brief relation with him had given her, was the knowledge she wanted a man who dared to touch her like she wouldn’t break, and who didn’t object to her using her mind. And she knew who it was.
It was a sin, whichever way Sophie looked at it. A sin to want a man when she wasn’t married, but she had already broken that rule. A sin to want her mother’s lover. Surely a sin to want her mother’s executioner. But it was Fabien she desired, and though he seemed indifferent on the surface, she knew it was mutual. She had felt the heat and need from him the first time and it had been there when he kissed her. But he had not pursued it further, and Sophie realised it would be up to her. The wisest thing, she knew, was to move on and forget her ill-considered attachment, but she didn’t want to. For weeks she considered what she could do, and one day she sat down a wrote a note to Fabien, a few words asking him to come to her room in the late evening.
When Sophie became part of Madame de Montespan’s household she had been given a new room, closer to her mistress. It was not as large as the rooms she had shared with her mother, but still spacious enough with a large window; by the standards of Versailles she was very lucky. She had assumed it was Fabien’s influence; it was in his interest she was seen as someone with importance, but he had never been there. And she was not at all sure he would come. It was he who summoned her, dictating the when and where’s of their meetings. But tonight she needed to be in the place which belonged to her, not him.
Slightly nervous Sophie excused herself earlier than usual from the evening's entertainment and returned to her chamber. She allowed her maid to undress her and wrap her in a robe, not wanting Mariette to suspect something unusual would happen. When she had dismissed her maid, Sophie remained in front of her mirror, brushing her hair in long slow strokes to calm herself. The long tresses straightened by the tug of the brush, only to bounce back into glossy curls as she released them. It soothed her, but when there was a discreet knock on her door shortly after midnight, Sophie suddenly felt short of breath and there was an unpleasant fluttering sensation in her stomach. Without waiting for her answer the door opened, and Fabien slipped in. He glanced around the room, his alert eyes taking in everything before he crossed his arms and leaned back against the door.
“What is of such importance you couldn’t wait?”
“I needed to speak with you. You may be content with how things are between us, but I’m not. And I don’t think you are, either.”
Fabien remained leaning against the door, but Sophie noticed the muscles tensing in his neck, and his face became even more unreadable than usual.
“There are reasons, and you know them.”
“Yes. For one, you think I’m too young. But I’m not, not anymore, and you are partly to blame.”
He turned his hand slightly in acknowledgement.
“And then there is my mother. I know you loved her.”
Fabien’s jaw set, and he pushed himself away from the door. Sophie suppressed an impulse to back away from him as he approached her.
“You have a lot of gall to make presumptions about my feelings.”
“I know because talking about her makes you so angry. Only those we love can hurt us like that.” Sophie’s voice wavered, and she had to stop for a moment before she could continue. “I know, because I loved her too.”
She had not planned to cry, but tears rose in her eyes, and she had to stop speaking. Turning around, away from Fabien she swallowed angrily, pressing her hand hard to her mouth to stop the threatening sobs. He moved behind her, and then he placed his hand on her shoulder, only for a heartbeat or two before he removed it. Somehow it made her feel calmer.
“I’m not in love with you. It’s not that I’m trying to tell you.”
“What it is then?”
Sophie gave herself another moment to compose herself before she turned back to face Fabien.
“I have an offer for you.”
“Another one?”
There was a faint tinge of irony in his voice, and Sophie reddened.
“Madame once told me the most important thing is to belong, or you will be lost. I thought she meant to to be part of a place, but she was speaking of belonging to someone. I do; I’m yours. My offer is, you could belong to me.”
“Why would I want that?”
“Because I can give you something you want, which you don’t think you can have. I have been watching you.”
He raised an eyebrow at that.
“You have? And what has your observations told you?”
“Everyone is afraid of you.”
“That’s hardly difficult to see.”
“No. I suppose you find it useful.”
“It is. Is that all?”
“No. You are lonely too. I have talked with the maids. They are all terrified of you, but not because you make use of them, as many men here do.”
“I’m not in the habit of forcing women.”
“They also say there were no women before my mother- or after. You don’t frequent the bawdy houses in the village either, as far as I can tell. I guess it wouldn't be a very safe place for you to be vulnerable at. And if you don’t pay for your company, then it must be difficult for you to know if a woman is truly willing, or if she is afraid what you might do if she say no. ”
“So that is what you think?”
“Am I wrong?”
He didn’t answer, but Sophie took his silence as affirmation, and pressed on. She had said far too much now, to stop.
“Still, you are a man who enjoy your power over others. You like the power you have over me. You could make me do anything you want. But you don’t.”
“I told you; I don’t force women.”
Sophie stretched out a tentative hand and touched Fabien’s face, not knowing if he would let her, or not. But he turned his head briefly so his lips brushed over her fingers, and she dared to caress his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin and the slight stubble of a man who had shaved many hours ago.
“I know. But if we could belong to each other, you wouldn’t have to worry. What we did, I can’t stop thinking about it. I want more.”
She dared to take a step closer to him, still not sure if he would push her away again. Fabien didn’t move, but she could sense how tense he was.
“I asked you once what it is you want from a woman, but you didn't answer me. Now let me tell you this; I liked everything you did to me.”
Without daring to look away from Fabien's dark eyes which seemed to bore into her with an intensity she could almost feel like heat, Sophie took his hand, and lifted it against her throat.
“Everything. Even when you hurt me. That is what you like, is it not? And I I want you to do it again.”
Fabien drew in his breath sharply. His fingers tightened briefly then he shifted it to close inside her hair, painfully pulling her head back so far the her neck muscles protested under the strain.
“Like this?”
“Yes,” Sophie whispered.
Fabien’s other hand moved over her face, caressing it like she had caressed his, before it slipped down her arm, twisting her hand up behind her back as he had done once before. Sophie gasped when pain shot through her arm and shoulder. Last time she had been afraid, but now the reason to why her heart pounded so hard in her breast was excitement.
“And this too?”
“Yes. Please.”
She slipped her free arm around his neck and pulled him close. When he kissed her, Sophie could feel he was smiling.
End
