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"It is morning already?"
Philippe groaned, slinging an arm lazily over his lover's waist and shrinking away from the sunlight streaming through the windows.
"Indeed it must be..." The Chevalier de Lorraine replied, burrowing his head under a pillow. "I..." He said with a pause. "...Do not want to get up today." He finished, shifting about on the mattress in an effort to get more comfortable.
Philippe rolled his eyes dramatically, a soft smile playing on his lips.
"Get up." He said, lightly hitting the Chevalier's back. He heard a groan, and the Chevalier lifted one arm in a blind attempt to hit Philippe back. His arm fell pathetically back onto the bed with a thud.
"No."
Philippe shook his head, throwing back his side of the sheets and swinging his legs over the side of the four-poster bed. Hastily, he buttoned his shirt.
"You must."
The Chevalier rolled onto his back, but kept his head hidden beneath the pillow, relishing in the darkness. Philippe smirked, poking the Chevalier in the ribs.
"Who commands that I must?" Chevalier replied. He, too, was smirking in the dark, relishing in the early-morning humour.
Climbing back onto the bed and kneeling with one leg either side of the Chevalier's chest, Philippe pressed his lips to the pillow, close to where he hoped the Chevalier's ear would be.
"Your prince." He said in the tone of mock-command that he reserved only for the Chevalier. The Chevalier's arms rose up around Philippe's waist and his head emerged at last from underneath the silken pillow.
"Well now, I'm never one for disappointing my sovereign. But perhaps my prince would rather like to join me beneath the sheets?" He said suggestively, raising his fair eyebrows. Philippe laughed, leaning his head back to look at the ceiling.
"Ah, my love," He lamented. Bringing his gaze back down to his lover, he gently stroked the Chevalier's cheek. "How much I wish I could." He said, pressing a gentle kiss to the Chevalier's lips. The Chevalier reached up to twist a lock of Philippe's dark hair around his index finger, absently twirling the strands whilst Philippe continued to speak.
"My brother wishes to see me. No doubt he wishes to chastise me for something... Perhaps it rained three weeks ago and he wishes to blame me for it." He said cheerfully, with only the slightest hint of cynicism. The Chevalier paused twisting his hair, raising his eyebrows. Philippe broke into a smile.
"I suppose I cannot keep you from the king." The Chevalier said begrudgingly. Philippe nodded his head, swatting away the Chevalier's hand from his curls. "Go, then!" The Chevalier said grandly, motioning towards the door. "You wouldn't want to be so late that all of the king's advisors miss your grand entrance, would you?" He said with a grin. Philippe laughed again, the sound easy and breathless.
"No, my love. I would not." He said, his eyes glistening mischievously.
He rose from the bed, pulling the Chevalier's fingers away from his own as he approached the large double doors. He paused, his fingers inches away from the gilded door knob.
"Get up." He repeated, turning back to his lover and smiling softly. The Chevalier simply waved his hand and rolled back over.
Philippe walked through the hallways already heaving with bodies. Despite it still being morning, courtiers lined the walls, congregating in groups. Philippe walked past them with his head held high, meeting eyes with none of them. He had places to be, and had no time to entertain idle gossip.
As he reached the king's outer chamber, he found the doors closed. One of the guards moved as if to open the door for him, but Philippe shook his head. Smirking ever so slightly, he paused before the doors and straightened his collar. Then he pressed forward and pushed both doors open with a force that sent them banging into the walls on the other side.
Louis, sat at the head of an oval table, glanced up from the papers before him and exhaled heavily.
"I see you have arrived, brother." He said flatly. Philippe nodded, pulling out a chair. Louis' fist clenched atop the table. Bontemps, his valet, looked at Philippe with contempt. He was used to Philippe making these sorts of theatrical entrances, and, in the eyes of Bontemps, it was entirely unacceptable. Louis allowed it, but did not enjoy it. The rest of the king's council simply thought his brother was an imbecile.
"The king did not permit you to sit." He said curtly. Philippe raised an eyebrow.
"You forget who you are addressing, monsieur." He said with a short laugh. Louis glared at him from the other end of the table. He sighed heavily, and pushed away the papers.
"We shall have to discuss this later." He said to Louvois, his war secretary. Louvois shot a look of disdain Philippe's way, to which Philippe responded with a glittering smile. "Leave us." Louis said, bidding the men around him to exit. They filed out of the room in silence as Philippe watched with raised eyebrows. Bontemps lingered longer than the others, but with a nod from Louis, he too departed. Philippe wanted to laugh, but a warning look from his brother told him not to.
Once the room was empty, Louis rose from his chair and wandered to the window.
Philippe remained sitting, and lounged back in the chair, studying the upholstered arms and picking at a loose thread.
"When I was a boy, I always thought the court had to always remain in Paris." Louis began, staring idly out at the gardens of his father's hunting lodge. Carriages were already riding up the gravelled pathways, all of them carrying courtiers and nobles from Paris. Louis pulled the frilly sleeves of his undershirt out through the sleeves of his cloth of gold overcoat, tugging gently on the fabric until it sat just so. Philippe raised his eyes from the chair, but said nothing.
"But I am going to move the court here." Louis said brightly, suddenly, turning to face his brother. He turned gracefully, with a click of his heels on the marble tiles. He had always been a fabulous dancer, a trait Philippe envied only slightly.765Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ6g11ncWSAT
The king's expression was proud. His eyes closed; a grand vision was unfurling behind his eyelids. "I see a great theatre, and a ballroom. And mirrors. Lots of mirrors."
Philippe considered this, and shrugged.
"What does this have to do with me?" He said bitterly. He had hoped Louis requested his presence this morning for something more... important. An invitation to lead the army in the next battle, perhaps.
"This was our father's hunting lodge. I shall be making drastic changes to the place. I thought it only common courtesy to inform you before I knock the place down." Louis said regally. He moved fluidly to the table, and pulled out a chair next to Philippe. It was not the king's chair, it was smaller and less ornate. He sat in it anyway.
"Kind of you." Philippe muttered, only the barest hint of sarcasm seeping into his tone. Louis noticed, but decided to rise above it. He merely rolled his eyes and moved on.
"I didn't have to tell you. I don't have to tell you anything." He said with furrowed eyebrows.
"You don't tell me a fucking thing." Philippe scoffed. Louis bristled, fists clenching.
"I am your king, not merely your brother. You forget that." Louis replied, working hard to keep his breathing steady and his temper calm. He was in no mood for the same old argument with his brother today. The simple truth was that he did not trust Philippe, and he doubted there would ever come a day when he would. His brother did not take kindly to his lack of faith in him.
"You never let me forget it." Philippe snarled, rising swiftly. He pushed the chair back forcefully, its legs scraping the flooring and creating a sound so high-pitched that it made him cringe. He stormed for the doors and pulled one of them open wide. He left quickly, his feet slamming onto the floor beneath him. He allowed the doors to slam shut behind him, not caring that not only had he turned his back on his brother, he had turned his back on the king.
Philippe stormed to his chambers, caring little that the courtiers he passed whispered behind cupped hands that the king's brother was throwing a tantrum once again like a child. He was no child, and yet still Louis treated him like one. Well, Philippe thought, if he wants to treat me as a child, I shall act like one.
He reached his own antechamber, and poured himself a large glass of wine from the decanter. The doors to his bedchamber were still shut; the Chevalier was probably still asleep. Philippe glared at the doors, his eyes angry and dark.
"Ah! Love, you are back!" The Chevalier called, opening the doors of Philippe's bedchamber. Whilst he had removed his nightshirt and put on a pair of breeches, he still remained half undressed. There he stood, wearing only breeches, in the doorway with open arms.765Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡUPneoCQ1qp
He saw Philippe's stormy expression and sighed.
"What has he done this time?" He asked. Philippe glowered.
"Nothing. That is the problem."
"What did he want to see you for?" The Chevalier asked, pouring his own glass of watered-down wine.
Philippe cleared his throat, strolling into his bedchamber and closing the door behind them. He did not want the whole court to hear him voice his discontent against his brother. One of them would probably accuse him of treason.
"He is building a new palace. Here. At Versailles." He said, sitting on the chaise-lounge at the bottom of the bed. The Chevalier considered this, his bottom lip sticking out slightly as he did so. His eyebrows were furrowed, as they tended to do whenever he concentrated on something.
"I see... I still don't see why he wished to see you."
"Neither do I." Philippe replied. The Chevalier laughed, joining Philippe on the chaise-lounge and throwing an arm about his shoulders.
"I hate him." Philippe muttered, looking down at the wine in his glass. The Chevalier shook his head.
"He is your king." He said gently, caressing his cheek.
"He is my brother." Philippe corrected, inhaling deeply. "And I still hate him."
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