Marie-Elisabeth: With Charles again
 

Waiting for something to come, Marie-Elisabeth was acutely aware, had the very annoying effect of making time drag on to a ridiculous degree. It felt like days instead of just hours since she had gotten up this morning, and found the wedding invitation on her side table. She had spent most of the morning flitting around between the front entrance waiting for Charles to arrive, and the suite next to hers making sure everything was just right for when he arrived. “Although” she mused, as she wandered back to the front entrance “If my visit this morning was successful we won’t be there for long. We could be moving into the only suite left in the better half of the palace. Which not only would be a great advancement for my little chou d’amour, but would get me farther away from that vile neighbour of mine”. She smiled at the thought as she all but skipped down the enormous stairs that lead up to the palace, wondering what on earth was taking Charles’ coach so long to get there.

In fact, as she reached the final step she was delighted to see the Valois coach come up the main roadway leading to the palace. She smiled to see a familiar blonde head hanging out the side, darting around looking at everything. Marie-Elisabeth was hard pressed not to run down the road like a madwoman to meet him, or to giggle as she saw a hand dart out from inside the carriage and yank Charles back inside. “Simon” she thought, chuckling as the carriage pulled up “Charles would break his neck if it weren’t for him”.

But any thoughts of anyone else were rapidly wiped from her head as soon as the ornate carriage came to a stop and the door swung open, revealing her beloved son . His bright brown eyes, the only thing he really had of his father in him, were twinkling with suppressed mischief from being cooped up so long. “Maman” he cried, bounding out of the carriage and into her waiting arms. “I’m here, and you wore your pretty dress today. You look so pretty Maman, I missed you”. Marie-Elisabeth smiled into his hair and tightened her arms around him. She honestly hadn’t realized quite how much she had missed him until he was right back there in her arms. And despite her initial misgivings about bringing him to court, she was quite seriously considering keeping him there with her now. That was how much she missed him.

“Maman missed you to chou d’amour, very very much” she said, releasing him to smile at him “And I wore it just for you, I know how much you like it”. “I hoped you would” he said, grinning at his mother who straightened herself up and took his hand ‘That’s why I wore blue today too. So we would match. Right Monsieur Simon?”

The man nodded as he exited the coach behind him. “He was most insistent upon it Madame. He wouldn’t have any other colour”. Marie-Elisabeth smiled and squeezed Charles’ hand as he grinned at her. “Thank you for bringing him here safely Monsieur. You have my gratitude. And I trust you’ll be able to see everything safely to the suite”? she said, looking over at Simon who nodded. “Of course I will Madame” he said, bowing “And believe me it was no trouble with such charming company”.

Marie-Elisabeth smiled at him again, before turning her attention back to Charles, who was tugging on her hand after waving his goodbyes to Simon. “Come on Maman. You have to show me everything around here. I want a tour” he said, all but leading her by the hand. Not that she was protesting the fact any. She has just happy that he was back with her where he belonged. “Of course love. I shall give you a tour right away. I bet there are lots of people who can’t wait to meet the grand Comte de Valois”. He grinned at that, always pleased to be referred to so importantly. “I know, that’s why we have to get going” he stated, tugging her hand again and she smiled and led him towards the gardens.



(((OOC: Approachable, really I’m bored LOL

For the coach, think the same thing except in blue and gold. Valois colours after all With the Valois crest on the doors. And for the portrait, exact same look except blonde hair.

Simon was mentioned earlier, he’s sort of an usher/footman kind of deal for Charles. Something like a man version of a lady’s maid/lady in waiting. He did the same for Charles Sr

Oh and in case you didn't notice...Charles=Only person capable of bossing ME around to any degree LOL)))

Bella and Elena - Orangery
 

(((OOC: I'm pretty sure I started rambling at some point, so do let me know if I've made no sense at all. Hope this works out for you!)))


From the moment she met Elena – even before the façade had been dropped – Bella had had it in her mind to be careful around the woman. There was that edge, the unsettling yet inspiring quality to her that placed her a cut above most women of her time. All admiring aside, basically Elena was dangerous as she was powerful, her word being the sine qua non in her estates in Spain and the rebellion yielding rather catastrophic results. Well, good luck, Octavien.

So, there it was, the need to control everything and everyone around her. With Bella now working for her, it was more than assured that she’d want to know what it was that Bella wanted. Yes, there was her half of the deal, finding Bella’s father, but the younger woman knew Elena would look beyond the idea of a loving daughter looking for her father. Any lies and dress-ups that Bella had offered would have been pushed aside in preference to Elena’s own theories. She’d no doubt asked around, found out about the Duc/Baron issue and God only knew what else and it’d be a matter of time before she figured it out. Was it just hope to think that she’d only become that interested in Bella’s familial issues if the latter decided it’d be a good idea to misbehave? Or was it going to be Elena’s ploy to drain the situation dry to her advantage?

Either way, her chances of finding out what exactly the grand secret entailed were quite slim. She didn’t know the right people, the main person who would have blabbed was dead, as was the crux of the entire problem and everyone else knew to keep their mouths shut. Yet, it was Elena and there was always that risk that she’d find a way. If and when she did, she wouldn’t tell. She’d probably use it to wield more power over Bella. Hence, the antidote was to find something on Elena. Problem was that the woman played her cards too close to her chest.

It was past difficult to discover the secrets of someone who said so little and thought so much about what little they did end up saying. Such was the case with Elena. Nothing passed her lips without thorough scrutiny. Nothing was ever uttered that might actually reveal any personal information about her. Nothing. It was frustrating, to say the least. Well, then, alternative methods had to be implemented. She had to give Elena the impression that she always had the upper hand, regardless of what Bella knew. It was in hope again, that Elena would be in her element somewhat and thus perhaps lower her guard. If that didn’t work, at least it kept Bella safe from her wrath and fine, she could speak as little as she wanted, her body language would have to suffice.

One implementation of such a tactic was now, when Bella had waited for Elena to signal when she wanted to discuss things. And there it was, the subtle nod, the mild disapproval of Bella’s indulgence in dreary cordiality between two women who were breaking a worrying number of those rules. Treachery, spying, deceit and this would all probably lead to conspiring against the crown at some point. Then there was that small smile that had emerged when Bella had decided to lift her painted veil and attempt to converse with Elena as they both really were. The other woman disliked the masquerade as much as Bella disliked having to constantly play the part.

“Clearly, you have done so admirably,” were the words Her Excellency had responded with, the inferences made by her own cunning mind unmistakable in the tone. “How does life at Court agree with you otherwise? Anything...noteworthy to mention? So many new acquaintances, I'm sure.”

And thus it begins.

Regardless of how much leverage Elena had in this situation, Bella wasn’t about to just hand over what she had to trade without knowing that Elena had fulfilled her part of the deal. In any case, that was the point of this whole clandestine issue, Bella didn’t want to risk decapitation simply because she had little else to do with her life. And on the other side, Elena would respect her little if she found herself under the impression that Bella was somewhat a ditzy little girl; she’d then find good reason to make the younger woman dance to her tunes in a more overt way. Right now, as it was with Elena keeping her gloves on, it was much better.

“Oh, only the usual, various courtiers and our... illustrious Prince,” Bella replied with a wily tone of her own to match Elena’s as she glided towards the other woman slowly. It was a promise of things to come, seeing as Bella had gathered more than adequate information to fulfil the quota of the three days she’d been here. On top of all that, she had in fact made Octavien’s acquaintance, which did elevate her chances of continuing to discover more about him. Although, given their current surroundings, the tightness in her shoulders just refused to leave despite her minor triumph in her and Elena’s deal. Better that it was there because it was currently keeping her from sprinting for the door. “…. But I'm sure I'm not the only one to have made interesting acquaintances, your Excellency?”

It was said as one friend would to another after a holiday; ‘Yes, I’ve done all this and had so much fun, but you must have had such a good time too!’. Except Bella’s question had been regarding her own interests that lay in Elena’s capacity and she expected the other woman to have kept up her part of the deal. If not, she was better out of this association with Elena before things became… acrimonious.

Octavien, César and Joséphine - the lake
 

If César had been harsh and unsympathetic in his response to Octavien's apprehensions regarding Elena and his impending marriage to her, Joséphine was turning out to be quite the opposite. As the sarcasm poured out of her husband's mouth and Octavien felt himself shrink ever so slightly, much like a child being scolded, Joséphine met his gaze in the brief glance he cast in her direction, and during those few moments it lasted, she somehow managed to offer him enough support to strengthen him, leaving him reassured that she for one could understand his concerns, and that for whatever reason, César seemed to be intentionally critical of the same, instead of being open to his friend's thoughts on the matter, as Octavien had expected he would be. Perhaps that was why the young Prince felt so vulnerable and uncomfortable, being questioned like that; because he had counted on César's understanding. Not his confirmation exactly, that Octavien should indeed be as apprahensive, but at least some sign that regardless of whether it made sense or not, César could understand where Octavien was coming from.

Instead, it was Joséphine who proved to be not only the most supportive one of the two, but the only supportive one. It would seem the understanding Octavien had been looking for in César mostly, man to man and friend to friend, arose in her instead, so much that César's failure to understand seemed to downright upset her, to the point were her emotions seeped through in her voice as she seized the moment of Octavien's subdued silence and César's jeering one to speak her mind;

"Beauty often causes vanity", she started and then paused for a moment, before continuing in a tone of voice that grew increasingly fierce with every word; "Refined manners help conceal one's true intent and a clever tongue may be the mark of a scheming mind! Equally, despite not being old, she is quite advanced in age for an unmarried woman, particularly one of such high birth, which begs the questioning of reasons! I think Octavien has every right to be wary, at least until she proves herself as a friend!"

A long and above all surprised silence followed in the wake of that passionate statement, as César and Octavien both simply looked at her, each rendered temporarily mute for their own personal reasons. César for the obvious ones of pure surprise at having his wife practically tell him off like that, speaking with far greater gravity than he himself had, something he had expected her to know, and Octavien too. And in Octavien's case, it was a matter of relief at having someone understand him, and acknowledge his concerns, as well as surprise at witnessing the fire with which Joséphine did so, opposing all her husband's simple and rather superficial observations with iron-clad logic. Like Octavien, she didn't see whatever pleasant traits displayed at a first meeting as any guarantee that they were genuine and pure, and not subject to change once charades were no longer a necessity, no longer possible means to an end. She understood, and she sided with him against her own husband. Octavien simply could not help but feel his heart swell with warmth and affection for her, for her compassion, so obvious to him in the words she had spoken in his defense, but also in the look in her eyes. And it occured to him then; his mistake at thinking César would be the one to truly understand, when it was Joséphine who knew better just what exactly Octavien was going through. Her marriage had been an arranged one as well, and while César was indeed part of it and had known little more about Joséphine than she had about him, he, as a young man, had had the privilege of being able to refuse the marriage, without the consequences of doing so being all too dire, should he have found her the least bit displeasing, even through rumours, whereas Joséphine, as a girl and one of slightly lower rank at that, had not had the same freedom. Just like Octavien didn't have much freedom now, to refuse a marriage he didn't want, lest he'd be deemed an 'inconvenience' and somehow disposed of as such, or worse, betray what he held so very close to his heart; loyalty towards his country, and the royal family. In fact, the latter was probably more of a reason for him to not openly object or somehow cause rifts between the royal family, and Her Excellency and the Spaniards, than the suspicion of what fate might have in store for him if he did. He had a powerful ally in Queen Isabella, who knew quite well how to handle Edouard and make him see things her way, so the threat of being sent away as a 'diplomat' to some far-away Godforsaken continent, was not as great as it would have been, had he not had Isabella on his side. And if all went well, he'd soon have the King himself there asw ell.

No, what kept Octavien from rebelling, was what he had in him; his sense of honor and loyalty. At this point, he regarded it as as much a curse as he did it a blessing, for while it had taken him as close to the top as anyone could ever hope to get, it had also left him marred by experiences and troubles he would have been happier not having to cope with at all. Such as the one of being faced with a marriage to yet another woman whom he didn't trust.

Yes, Joséphine did indeed understand his dilemma and his fears, and the way she chose to express them, opposing César in the process, truly filled Octavien's heart with warmth towards her. A warmth he had felt before, yet this time it was different somehow. Different, in that the affection running through it had grown, to the point where it now intermingled with that other intangible... something that sometimes stirred within him when his gaze locked with hers, so tightly entwined that he was no longer sure he could tell them apart...

"Speaking from experience, I suppose", came Joséphine's voice again all of a sudden, breaking the silence that had settled between the three of them following her minor outburst, and dragging Octavien back from his inner musings. "I recall fearing you might be a brute before meeting you, mon cher."

Still addressing César, her tone was now far more relaxed than before, and mischief was sneaking into her words, causing a slight smirk to curve her husband's lips, as César took it to mean that she had now realized her mistake in going at him, and that while his own words might have been rather poignant, they had been nothing to get so riled about, as his intention had been to provoke thought, not hurt. According to him, Octavien was being far to glum about this whole thing. After all, a wife such as Elena Sánchez would look good on him - socially as well as politically - and if they ended up not getting along, then Octavien could just find some other woman that pleased him more to share his bed and his days. He was the Prince, after all, and so he would be practically expected to take a mistress. At least. All royals did.

"Perhaps I wasn't entirely unfounded in my fears", Joséphine added with a slight smirk of her own, almost as though she had heard the thoughts going through her dear husband's mind at that precise moment.

The ironic curve of her lips soon vanished however, replaced with surprise at finding, after a quick search, that they were already out of wine, and - yet again - before César had the chance to retort.

"Have they only brought us one bottle?" she asked, with a look on her face that drew a light laugh from her husband.

Had he had a witty reply to her playful gibe on the tip of his tongue, it was now gone, retreating to make way for another, born out of this recent burst of amusement. She just had provided him with such a golden opportunity, he simply couldn't pass it up.

"I guess they didn't take you into account, my dear", he grinned, flashing her a teasing look.

However, clearly Joséphine wasn't the only one to desire more of the delectable wine, since with that, César himself reached to look inside each of the two baskets, only to come to the same conclusion as she had seconds earlier; there was indeed no more of it to be found.

"Well then", he said, as though he had just reached a decision, and he pushed himself up, out of his comfortable position on the blanket, in order to stand. "Part brute I might be. That, I shall admit. But, a complete brute, I am not. As thanks to our exalted friend here, we can not ask a servant to be so kind as to fetch us some more, I will take upon myself this chivalrous task, so that my darling wife will come one step closer to having all that she could possibly desire."

Now firmly and steadily on his feet, he gave an elegant bow, which he still somehow managed to make seem not completely serious.

"Marquise, Your Majesty", he said, flashed them both another grin, and was off, leaving Joséphine and Octavien to watch as he disappeared further and further away.

Sitting in silence at first, Octavien soon felt as though it was starting to turn into that rather uncomfortable one, that had once seemed to rule the air between himself and Joséphine when alone, and so he turned to her with a faint smile on his lips.

"Thank you", he said softly, with the warmth he had felt for her when she defended him against César's gibe seeping into his voice, despite him not having meant for it to. "I'm glad to know not everyone thinks me to be as unreasonable and censorious as César will have me seem."



(((ooc: I didn't bold all names all the time, because frankly, there were so many it would be hard on the eyes to read it if I had.)))

((ooc: Marie-Elisabeth isn't occupied She's approachable))

Bella and Elena - Orangery
 

Life was a fine line and living it well was the art of tightrope walking. Of course, if you’d already fallen from grace, there was no line to walk and thus you could stumble around drunk all you wanted. However, any life worth living was a fine line. Granted, for some, the line was broader you ample space to make your mistakes and anneal the plans you made. For others, it was twine, thin and treacherous. Either way, sobriety was much recommended.

If there was ever a sobriety inducer on God’s green Earth, it was Elena, especially if you were involved in a rather delicate affair with her. Such was the case with Bella. All the right reasons, all the compulsion and all the advantages aside, it was a dangerous, potentially devastating endeavour. Fortunately, it applied to them both. However, unfortunately, the effects were likely to be more pronounced in Bella’s case.

Thus, Bella had to dance to Elena’s tunes more than the converse. The Spanish noblewoman with her higher status and soon to be even higher power, was more protected, from almost every angle. And she most probably knew it. However, she must have also known that she wasn’t completely protected, just as Bella teetered on the edge of the wolves’ den, Elena wasn’t that far behind.

Thus, Bella’s advantage. The assurance that Elena wouldn’t backtrack on their deal because there were consequences for her as well. Hence, within limits, of course, Bella could assert her demands in their little agreement. The dangerous element in that was the fact that someone else could so easily strike Elena’s interests. Yes, she probably knew full well that she’d simply seen the tip of the iceberg when it came to Bella’s capabilities, but if the Comtesse proved too difficult, Her Excellency would simply favour another, leaving Bella much like a jilted lover. Hence, Bella had to keep Elena more than simply satisfied.

However, Bella could not, in any quarter, prove to be a push over, manipulated easily by Elena, regardless of the short term benefits for the long term implications were likely to be very, very bad. The smallest inclination of submission, Elena would get ideas and push the boundaries, deciding that perhaps Bella wasn’t that difficult to wield at all and then there would be no difference between Bella and dear Juanita. So no, Elena had to be reminded, constantly, that Bella was a collaborator, not a servant. Thus, Bella had to always incite that undertone of appreciative respect from Elena.

With Bella’s previous statement, it had been realised. And apparently appreciated, the small inkling of a smile upon Her Excellency’s crimson lips, and yet no warnings, to put Bella in her place, to show her who exactly held the reins in this journey. Not yet. Was she giving Bella enough rope to hang herself with?

“Much of the same, yesterday evening has been particularly memorable. However, more interestingly still I have been corresponding with some older acquaintances who wrote to me about their travels. They had some intriguing news from across Europe,” Elena’s words and their underlying meaning rung loud and clear to Bella as the other woman produced an envelope from the pockets of her dress. Ah, was that Bella’s payment? “So, do tell...how did you meet my future husband? What do you think of him?”

The words almost drifted past unnoticed while Bella’s eyes remained on the envelope, Elena’s current leverage against her. Holding it in sight but out of reach, so that Bella knew Elena had what she wanted. Did she know where he was? Had they found him? More importantly, would Elena actually tell her if they had found him or would she reveal the trail, slowly, giving enough time to get what she wanted from Bella? Her rose lips parting to draw a deep breath as she peeled her reluctant eyes from the envelope, raising the sunrise eyes back to the other woman to fulfil her part.

Right, this was how it was going to work then. For every shred of information that Bella gave Elena, there had to be something that Elena returned to interest Bella to give more. They were going to play by the Law of Reciprocity. Granted, this was going to be a game that Elena wasn’t going to like one little bit. However, she couldn’t very well complain about it if she didn’t know she was playing it. The problem was, it was incredibly difficult to deceive Elena. Hence, the game will be played, but as subtly as possible, for Bella had more than enough information on Octaiven to make her fill for the night. Question was, did Elena have enough ammunition?

As for how Bella had come to meet Octavien, well, she wasn't going to reiterate the real story, simply because it was rather embarassing that she hadn't known it was him.

"Oh, you know, it's a small court, people run into each other," she inconspicuously explained off, with an incipient smile and a wily flicker in her eyes. Elena was more than welcome to figure that Bella had diligently planned the whole thing.

“He’s certainly a remarkable man, Your Excellency,” she commented, with a slight inclination of her brow to indicate what she really meant. Yes, he was remarkably far from arrogant for someone in his position, that wasn’t what she meant. Oh, no, according to what she’d seen and heard, apparently he wasn’t quite the innocent. Well, for starters, regardless of his reasons, he’d deceived Bella when they’d first met. “To an extent where one has to appreciate his remarkable mind.”

“However,” she carried on, a slight change in tone, less appreciative and more contemplative, as she interlaced her fingers, her eyes still on Elena. “He does seem rather… perturbed by some rather alarming recent events….”

There was that sly look on her face, the signal that this was something that Elena really wanted to know about. But first, back to Elena’s turn in their little game:

”Forgive me, your Excellency,” Bella gave a small sigh and raised her almost entirely innocent gaze back to Elena. “I do have a tendency to digress. I’m afraid I’ve given you no opportunity to participate in conversation?”


(((OOC: Hope this works, Ghanima? Also, she's still a little on egde (tightness in shoulders etc) because she's in the Orangery of all places, so she's not entirely a happy bunny. Just couldn't find a way to include it properly in the post :D)))

Octavien and Joséphine - three's a crowd, by the lake
 

It was destined to happen. Two young people sharing a deep throbbing ache they had no choice but to conceal as best they could - one made a victim of loyalty, and the other of love, and neither of them able to act against those feelings - and finding themselves in what was perhaps the most romantic of settings for miles around, with the sun of spring gently descending across the sky, painting the lush surroundings with an ethereal rosey hue reflected in the rippled facet of the lake... The mutual and so very dangerous ambiance of attraction between them, so forbidden, and so intoxicating, currently further fuelled by wine, and by each of them finding themselves at a time of such emotional strain, and knowing the other was going through much the same thing... It was as classic as it was natural.

When Joséphine's fingertips brushed against his own, Octavien's gaze dropped, watching how the touch seemed to awaken his hand to a life of it's own, slowly turning over for his fingers to gently grasp hers. Such a simple sign of friendship reassured, and yet at the same time, so electrifying he barely even heard the words she spoke.

Perhaps it would have been better if he had, for the mention of 'Her Excellency', of Elena, his wife to be, might have roused him from that slight daze, and made him pull back, retreat, once again faced with what for a moment he had found an escape from, when raising his gaze back up to meet with Joséphine's; reality. Plain and simple. Reality, and all the problems it currently held for him.

Joséphine, it seemed, was overcome by something similar. Like him, she kept looking into the eyes opposite her own, seeing in them so much of what she understood and could relate to, and like him, she drew nearer, as though something in them urged them to look closer, in search of what they really, truly sought, but did not know.

When their lips finally met, in a sense of understanding shared, of wanting to give and to be given comfort, it was in a kiss so fleeting the touch was barely there. And yet they felt it, they both felt it, for it seemed to ignite something deep within each of them; those dark, glowing embers hidden away and all but forgotten for such a long time, until just the other day. It drew them into another kiss, more passionate this time, but still as gentle, speaking more of what was truly ruling the air between them, and less of the hurt they shared. There was fire, burning tantalizing and warm, and there was tenderness, and compassion. And there was guilt. Slithering it's way into their minds, it was ultimately what finally made their lips part, and the both of them to pull back, ever so slightly, to gaze at one another again, in silent understanding.

But as Joséphine's eyes were drifting into focus of Octavien's vision, there appeared something behind her; a new element in the surroundings, a looming shadow that had not been there before. Upon noticing it, Octavien's gaze shifted to take in it's proper form, and suddenly he froze, eyes widening in utter horror.

Behind Joséphine, César had appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, and was now staring at his wife and his friend in speechless shock. The look in his eyes was that of someone who for the first few seconds of a horrible epiphany simply refused to believe what he was witnessing, and his jaw hung loose, as though just as he happened upon the scene he had been about to speak, or as though he was trying to say something, but his brain would not cooperate, and no words would come out.
Then suddenly, his mouth snapped shut, his jaws tightening with anger, and the usually bright and spirited eyes darkened to a near black. Signs Octavien knew all too well, despite having seen them only a few times before, and never aimed at himself. Until now.

"César...", he said and quickly came to his feet, as though he was about to try to explain, or prevent his friend from turning on his heel and leave before one could be made.

But no sooner had he straightened his back from standing, than César flew past Joséphine, grabbing Octavien by the collar of his coat, and slamming him up against the nearest tree, pinning him against the rugged surface, so tightly that for a moment Octavien thought he was actually about to choke him.

"My wife!", he hissed, and had his fists not already nailed the young Prince to the tree, the eyes flashing with unbridled rage would have managed to do the job just fine.

Having encountered a servant halfway back to the Palace, César had gladly left it in their capable hands to fetch more wine for the Prince and his friends, while he himself turned back to the lake, though ending up taking another route there, due to his ever-present yearning to explore his surroundings. And he returned, only to find this?! His cherished wife, and one of his very best friends, kissing?! There was not enough strength in his entire being, no amount of pressure he could apply to Octavien's slender form, to vent the anger searing within.

"César...", Octavien wheezed in his grip, his voice little more than a mere whisper.

Yet again his attempt to explain was cut short, when César jerked him away from the tree and let go, giving him a shove in the process, with such force that Octavien almost plunged to the ground. And before he could fully regain his balance, César was at him again, giving him yet another shove, and another, until Octavien finally tried to fend him off, thrusting his arms away in what was the beginning of yet another violent shove. But that only fuelled César's fury even more, and with the anger rumbling in his throat, he lunged toward Octavien, as if to tear him down; an attack that sent them both tumbling, right into the lake.

Though César didn't appear to care, or even notice. Not the water, not Octavien's attempts to get a break long enough to actually say something that might halt him, and not Joséphine's desperate outcries for them to stop. As soon as he was back on his feet in the knee-deep water, he lunged forward once again, aiming a punch at Octavien's face. Luckily, his fist only grazed the side of Octavien's jaw, and he lost his balance, as now it seemed even the water itself was trying to hold him back.

And it was then, finally, in that briefest of moments, in that split second of actual stillness, that Joséphine's urgent pleads reached his ears, and halted him.

César, Joséphine and Octavien - the lake
 

(((ooc: My, the rest of you are really quiet. Don't make me create another character, just to get some action.... errr.... some MORE action going here! I really have too many already. *nod*)))


A raging wildfire, roaring as it had engulfed everything in it's path without the tiniest shred of mercy and set it ablaze, suddenly squelched by a single, massive bucket of ice cold water, reducing the searing flames to mere embers fighting to stay alive under the downpour, hissing sharply, like a wounded animal, whenever struck by a single drop of moisture. Still sizzling and glowing, but no longer aflame.

That was how Joséphine's words hit César. And it was a most fitting analogy too, given how he had been so infuriated that he had heard nothing but the deafening thunder of the wrath filling mind and body alike, and seeing nothing but the face of Judas in his eruption of near murderous rage, and how now those pitch black eyes of his, still flashing with remnants of pure hatred, glared from underneath a curtain of dripping wet auburn tresses. Though what appeared in those darkened orbs more than anything, as Joséphine's own outburt tore them away from the Prince's face, was shock. Again shock, much like only a minute ago, when first he had happened upon the scene of the two of them kissing. And where before Joséphine's fingertips had dug into his chest as she seperated him from Octavien, there was now only a growing distance from her, as her words took him by such surprise that the mere force of them pushed him back a step.

"How dare you!", she'd cried out at him, with an anger nearly matching his own contorting her pretty features. "After all you have done to me, how dare you! For six years...six years, César, I've turned a blind eye, pretending I didn't know of all the women you bedded unscrupulously, whenever it struck your fancy, even now, traipsing around the Palace with that Comtesse, for everyone to see, under our very roof for God's sake!"

She knew? For a moment, that was the only tangible thought César could produce. She actually knew? And she'd known all along, since the very start? How? How could she know? He'd been so very careful, and considerate in that he hadn't flaunted his affairs like so many other men did. He'd been discreet, never kissing or fondling any of his mistresses in the open, never showing another woman any unwarranted interested while in Joséphine's company, and always giving reasonable explanations for where he'd spent the night - or the afternoon, or the evening - and why. He'd even lavished Joséphine with all the love and affection he was capable of, both vast and passionate, because of the simple reason that he still held her so very dear.

But, one might wonder, if that was truly the case, then why all the indiscretions?

The sad truth was, César's hypocrisy ran deep. With a father who himself had several affairs over the years and did not try very hard to hide them, César had been raised to believe that it was every man's privilege to not limit himself to only appreciate one woman's company and beauty. That even though one was married to one woman, and had promised before God to love and honor her, always, there was nothing fundamentally wrong in having a 'fling' on the side every now and then. And, it didn't end there. Through his father's words and actions, he'd even been led to believe that when it came to noblemen, Princes and Kings, they were nothing short of expected to take at least one mistress. It was a sign of status, of being prominent, virile and desired, and had nothing really to do with the wife.

So why then, with this firm and deeply rooted belief to support his actions, had he tried to be so very careful and not let Joséphine know about what was going on?
Well, for the simple reason of being - or so he thought - considerate. Ladies, he had learned, long before he had even met and married Joséphine, tended to see it as an embarrassment if their husbands, fiancées or, in the case of being neither married nor engaged, their official lovers, were known to be missing from their beds at night. Evil tongues rarely passed up the opportunity to strike up theories of why exactly the lover would seek the embrace of another woman, and being the target of such humiliating gossip was neither desirable nor pleasant, no matter if it was fairly common. It could cause a dwindling self-esteem in the lady made target of such rumours, and might even spur problems in the marriage itself, such as arguments or simple growing apart. That was a fate César didn't wish for Joséphine, nor for his marriage to her.

But still... Were these his only reasons? Had he not known, on some level at least, that Joséphine was too proud and independent a woman, to see her husband's indescretions as a mere embarrassment? Wasn't it even part of why he loved her; that she was not a meek little mouse who let the world and the people in it walk all over her? She was assertive and intelligent, very much capable of holding her own in any conversation, and challenge most people's notion that women were just vain and silly geese, in need of a firm hand to guide them. Thus, should César not have been at least partly aware that she wouldn't be particularly inclined to share said notion?

Not that he had a chance to reflect on all this now. His mind was still stuck on the question "she knows?", trying to fathom her awareness of something he'd honestly thought he'd managed to keep secret from her, when Joséphine continued her bitter tirade;

"And do you know the worst of it all?" she said, the brief pause she'd made having lowered her voice to a normal, albeit still very angry and biting tone. "Having to play the same pathetic game every time, pretend that I saw nothing, heard nothing, knew nothing... your game, César! Your rules! Do you think that because I am a woman I don't have feelings, or a brain, or that I don't see what you do? That it doesn't hurt? It does hurt, it hurts more than I can possibly explain, because you don't care, and because nothing will ever change no matter how much I bear, what I do to please you or... or, how much I love you!"

Still staring at her, each word struck him much like the lashes of a whip, not to mention how the tears welling up in her eyes were like daggers to his heart. He'd hurt her. He'd actually hurt her. Despite never trying to, despite never even wanting to, he'd actually caused her enough pain to draw out such anguish, such stinging bitterness in her voice, and in those beautiful eyes, usually radiating with life and humor, but now only with angry contempt.

It all made the look in his own eyes soften, to something closely resembling pained regret, and in pure reflex his hand started reaching out towards her, towards her face, to cup that tear streaked cheek, if she would let him. Though the motion had just barely begun, when a movement behind her reminded César of the third person present. Instantly, his hand froze in it's semi-raised state, and shadows filled his eyes once more when again he was made to see the whole picture, and not just his own part in it.

Joséphine and Octavien. Octavien and Joséphine Two of the people that mattered the most to him. Wasn't that twice the betrayal, compared to what his precious wife was accusing him of? He'd confided in Octavien, considered him one of his very best friends, someone he could truly count on. A partner in crime, during all their adventures and shenanigans, and one he'd trusted to keep Joséphine distracted when.... Oh god! César almost groaned out loud as the irony hit him. How many times had he asked Octavien to 'keep Joséphine occupied', like he had the other day? 'Keep her occupied'... Oh, it would seem Octavien had kept her occupied, alright!

While all this was running through his head, wave upon wave of so many different thoughts and impressions crashing over him, the look in his eyes mirrored the complete and utter turmoil within. It kept changing, softening one moment, and hardening the next, as though the feelings were running amuck in him, with such speed and frenzy that he didn't stand a chance to grasp a single one of them long enough to have it guide him through his reaction and his reasonings. Though finally, anger was crowned the temporary victor of the battle being fought, because no matter how many times César saw Joséphine's tear-filled eyes, and heard her words echoing in his mind, he still could not erase that mental image burnt into his mind's eye. The vision of her, and one of his best friends, kissing!

"Him!" he thus seethed with an indicative motion towards Octavien, so violent it sent tiny droplets of water flying from the ruffled sleeve of his soaking white shirt. "Of all people, him!"

With that, he turned to make his way back to dry land, but stopped and spun right back around when something else occured to him.

"And, I don't care?!" he spat with narrowed eyes. "I shower you with affection daily, because I do love you, more than life itself! I have never, not once, laid a finger on you, because I would never intentionally hurt you, nor could I! I side with you against my own mother, my own flesh and blood, because I know how what she says about you makes you feel! And I most certainly do not get intimately acquainted with your friends, with the people one would think you could trust! And I don't care?!"

It was far from being eloquent, far from being level-headed, and probably far from being mature, but at the moment, César couldn't care less. He was angry, he was hurt, and, he was leaving. The presence of Octavien and even Joséphine, let alone the both of them together, was more than he could bear. Therefore, as soon as he finished speaking, he shot them both an icy glare, and then turned once again, this time determined to get himself out of the lake, and, more importantly, away from it.

Bella and Elena - Orangery
 

Well, she wasn’t pleased. In fact, Elena was far from pleased and one didn’t need Bella’s sharp mind to discover that.

The darkness creeping into the Orangery was not entirely derived from the disappearance of the sun, but rather from Elena herself. The ominous clouds beginning to encroach over her features as she began to almost glare at Bella. The flickering behind the eyes giving clues as to what she was thinking, that she was thinking. Of course, it being Elena in question, of course she was always thinking. Currently, however, the focus of her contemplations would most likely be Bella and her growing petulance.

Commanding herself not to pay attention to their surroundings, Bella fought in vain to relieve herself of the stress in her shoulders. She had Elena to worry about. Despite her assertions over the fact that she expected Elena to reciprocate and hold up her end of the bargain, Elena made counter assertions of her own:

“No, Comtesse, I'm in the mood to listen,” was the dry reply that Bella received. She was refusing to play games. “I'm led to think your tale is bound to become more captivating still, I wouldn't want to...interrupt it. If still interested, you may then read all about a fresh lead my associates have encountered in Florence. It would appear your father has been sighted there recently. Italy, don't you find that interesting, Comtesse Devine?”

Or was she refusing to play games? Not so much at all, it would seem. She was still offering what she was offering, simply demanding more worth for her information than Bella was currently paying. It was a glimpse into what the envelope held. He was in Italy?! That had been the first place she’d visited, given that it’d been where… everything started. Well, he obviously hadn’t called in on Duchessa Pizerio, otherwise Bella would have heard of it. Where had he gone then? And, how very dare he do this?! How very dare he do this to her whilst being alive and completely, utterly capable enough to travel?! Argh, if he really wasn't dead, she'd kill him herself.

Hence the fury fuelled compounded the tightness in Bella’s posture, soon finding another ally. Elena was threatening. She’d placed emphasis on the surname. It was a French derivative, but it had such strong Italian connections. In fact, so strong that it was frequently mentioned at court, carrying closeness to the royal family. Had she heard? Did she know?! Of course she did, she couldn’t. There was no way. Yet there was the way she held the envelope, wielding it like a knife in a way Bella could but interpret it as Elena’s weapon. That research could lead to some surprising findings. That this could turn so sour. Well, it was sordid enough to turn sour.

"Now...what are these alarming events that have His Majesty so perturbed?"

Alright then. Bella would hold up her end of the bargain, going on Elena’s subtle assertion that she had held up hers. After all, there wasn't much room to navigate around the topic, was there?

Moving closer to the other woman, her voice regressing to more of a whisper than a speech, yet carrying the countenance of two women having a simple conversation, Bella started.

“He is quite likey to be the people's Prince, it appears,” she said with a small inclination of her brow. It was Octavien's humility that led her to that conclusion. He was apparently a man not of titled upon his arrival at court, flying the flag for all those who felt that the titled nobility shunned them and was forever untouchable. Yet, despite his new found power, he had still been very modest with her when they had first met. “Well… save for a minor sector of people who decided that he wasn't good enough for the monarchy and felt the need to voice their political opinions with a dagger.”

She let a moment pass to allow Elena to soak in the information. Chances were, Octavien hadn’t told her. Given the degree of his glee the other night, he wasn’t exuberantly ecstatic about his impending nuptials and therefore was less than likely to have recounted his entire life to his bride upon their first meeting.

“He was attacked and stabbed in the arm, by a Marquess Berini, in his suite, only a few days ago,” Bella continued. “For currently unknown reasons, but I am working on it.”

There. She knew more about the Prince, of course, but not with enough certainty to discuss with Elena. Furthermore, there was the case of leverage. If it came to it, there was still much more she could tell Her Excellency.

Marie-Elisabeth & Little Charles - In the Gardens
 

Marie-Elisabeth had to admit that the past afternoon was one of, if not the, most enjoyable she had spent in quite some time. Just being in the company of her son made her happier and the day had been spent sharing everything that had happened while they were apart. She was delighted to hear of all the progress Charles had made in his studies, and he had been thrilled to hear that she had made the acquaintance of one of his father’s fellow soldiers from back in his army days. He was rather disappointed to hear that the Duc d'Lorraine wasn’t in court at the moment, but Marie-Elisabeth assured him that she would seek him out and introduce them as soon as he returned. Marie-Elisabeth had tried not to laugh at that thought, wondering exactly how Dimitri would spin her husband’s infamous story about their capture by the English, back when said Duc was only 15 and far from the fearsome figure he was now.

The fact that there hadn’t been too many people around was an added bonus, although he had been much admired by the few people they had crossed paths with. He was so likeable and personable, especially for a child so young, that he couldn’t help but charm everyone he met. That always caused Marie-Elisabeth to smile because her myriad of family members always said she was exactly the same as a child, and that it was a quality she still largely retained.

But mother and son had largely been left to enjoy each other’s company, and time had flown by so fast that Marie-Elisabeth barely noticed how dark it had gotten until Charles tugged on her arm. “Maman” he said, looking up at her “It’s getting dark out and I’m hungry. Can we go inside for dinner now?”. “Of course my love” she said, smiling at him and taking his hand "I'm just glad I have such a dependable young man to escort me back to the palace so late at night".

"Of course you do maman" he said, grinning at her "I'm the man of the family, since papa isn't with us anymore, so it's my job to look after you. That's what Monsieur Simon says". Marie-Elisabeth chuckled and used her free hand to ruffle his hair.

"Well Monsieur Simon is very right chou d'amour, and I bet your father would be very proud of the wonderful job you're doing". Charles was all but beaming with pride at that, and she continued to smile at him as they made their way back to the palace.


(((OOC: Figured I would post something that would work as a wrap up. Unless anyone wants to run into them on their way in from the gardens, I'll jsut say they had their dinner and went to bed till morning)))

César
 

"Then why?"

As César was making his way towards the Palace, intent on getting as far away from the lake as possible, the desperate, heated outcry coming from his wife as she struggled against the water to follow him, saw his steady pace gradually slow to a near halt, and it almost seemed he would turn once again, and face her with an answer to her question, perhaps even a forlorn confession that he did not quite know why, as he had never actually considered his affairs to have anyhing to do with her, and thus had not thought of it as something that would hurt her if she found out. Displease her, embarrass her, maybe even anger her to a point, but never actually hurt her. It had been on the tip of his tongue seconds ago, when he'd seen the tears spill from her eyes, and now the hurt in her voice drew it right back.
But, as it had been obliterated before, by the sight of Octavien, so was it now, by Joséphine's next tirade;

"Would you rather he had been a stranger?" she continued. "Don't you understand, César, that it doesn't matter? For all it's worth, it was just a kiss neither of us have planned. It... just... happened, and yes, I wanted it! Because I was angry, and lonely, and because he understood. I know... what I did was wrong, but you have no right to reproach me this, César!"

Those were words that struck César far too hard, for his desire to make peace to stand any chance at surviving as... everything came tumbling down over him.
It didn't matter? It didn't matter that it was Octavien, one of César's very best friends, she had kissed, instead of some stranger whom César didn't know? It didn't matter that it hit César twice as hard, as not only did it rob him of his wive's undivided love, but it smothered whatever love he'd ever had for Octavien, and sent a treasured friendship spanning over a decade, into oblivion?
Oh, it mattered! It mattered a great deal! More than Joséphine seemed to realize, even though she ought to! Or was it out of vengeance that she pretended she didn't? Was it cruelty, drawn out by her need to retaliate, that had her kissing someone so very close to César, and then denying that it should hurt him more than had she kissed a stranger! For as difficult as it was for him to imagine her being that spiteful, he couldn't help but to think; if it truly didn't matter to her, then why hadn't she chosen a stranger?

Because yes, César would have rather had it be a stranger! If the choice had been his to make, then yes! A hundred times yes! A stranger, he wouldn't have to face as someone he had known for years, a stranger he wouldn't have confided in, and shared some of the best moments of his life with!
How could she not realize that?

And as for his right to reproach her... If she was capable of committing the same crime herself, as she considered him having committed against her, and if it had 'just' happened, then why did he not have the right to be angry? She apparently was no better, so while he might not have the right to reproach her, who gave her the right to reproach him, when she did the same as him? Had she confronted him, untainted by the same sin as him, it would have been a different matter, but to get back at him by doing to him what she considered him having done to her, and then claiming he did not have the right to be angry, when clearly she had gotten her revenge, and yet was still angry with him... She had done to him what he had done to her, and she had the right to be angry. He had done to her what she had now done to him, and he did NOT have the right to be angry. Why? Was the severity of her crime to be disregarded, simply because he had committed his first?

The thoughts kept racing through his mind, their sheer velocity manifesting itself in his increased pace, and as Joséphine stormed off in one direction, César marched off in the opposite one, without as giving as much as another glance towards his wife, and friend, let alone a single word in response to Joséphine's heated remark.

As always when so angry he did not quite know what to do with himself, the young Marquis immediately headed for the stables, caring little that his clothes were still slightly more than damp, not to mention his overall appearance rather dishevelled. Like Octavien, he found that a ride often helped clear his head and leave him with a chance to start his thinking fresh, from a clean slate. And boy, did he have some thinking to do.

Unfortunately, his thinking lead from one detrimental track to another, as he still simply could not erase that one thing that cast it's shadow over the entire sordid affair; Joséphine, and Octavien. His wife, and his confidant.
And so, a ride with no goal, but a purpose to help him think, slowly morphed into a ride with a goal, and a purpose to stop him from thinking; a tavern, and wine. Lots and lots of wine.

He had begun to realize that regardless of how he himself viewed or meant them, to Joséphine, his indiscretions were betrayals. So very painful betrayals. Despite not ever having meant to, he had hurt her, and that was a realization that pained him greatly.
And, it was the reason for his first and second goblet of wine.
The third and fourth, he drank in order to try and escape that visual burnt into his mind, which no matter how he tried, kept haunting him, and shoving his thoughts off of the path of reason, to plummet right back into the sea of red hot anger, and hurt. He kept coming back to it, over and over again, and each time, there seemed to be something new to occur to him, and fuel his desire to simply turn numb, to drink himself into blissful oblivion.

How long had it been going on, and how far had they gone? Did they love each other, and was Octavien only still César's friend, because of the convenience of having César himself provide him with an excuse for being alone with Joséphine, when asking him to 'keep her occupied'?
Accompanying all these thoughts, were the fifth and the sixth glasses of wine, and just as the last few drops were trickling down his throat, that's when it hit him. The possibility which the very moment it occured to him, truly broke his heart; what if his daughters were not actually his? What if for the last couple of years, he had been as oblivious as he'd thought Joséphine to be, and the two girls he loved more than anything else in this world, were not even his?

Needless to say, after that, César soon lost count of how many goblets of wine he'd had, and he stopped drinking only when the tavern keeper refused him any more. He spent the rest of the night riding around, and returned to the Palace only once dawn's first light was peaking over the horizon. By then, the cool night air had worked it's magic on his intoxicated mind, and he had sobered up enough to be hung over rather than still drunk. He'd been quite tempted to stay away even longer, as attending Octavien's wedding now was hardly something he wanted to do. But, Joséphine would be going as well, and regardless of how César felt about her at this very moment, he did still love her, and knew that if he made her suffer the humiliation of going alone, he would end up hurting her even more than he already had. And, he still simply could not bear the idea of hurting her. Not even now.
Especially not now.



(((ooc: Sorry it's extremely sucky. Not nearly as elaborate and emotional as I had hoped it would be, especially the daughters part, and the end was pretty much scribbled down to avoid having to write ooc what I intended would happen and where César would end up. I had to rush it, as I should have been in bed over an hour ago, and won't be around tomorrow. I simply felt this was my only chance to get something in for César before the wedding starts Might try to re-write it later, because honestly... I'm quite reluctant to post it at all. (And no, I'm not looking for sympathy or reassurance. I'm just saying it's far from how I imagined it.) )))