Louis woke up with a thought that would linger for the rest of the day.
She should have been mine.
But to the surprise of most people, the King does not always get what he wants. In fact, the King must want less than most of his subjects, because all the wantings should be for the country. Even for le Roi Soleil.
The heavy crimson velvet curtains were drawn back by the servants early in the morning, before the starlights were dimmed by the waking sun. He had not slept well the previous night, or the past weeks. The night sky was his only companion throughout the lonely hours, and his wife would always be sound asleep in her own chamber down the corridor. But it always felt unreachable.
Philippe and Henriette are coming back today.
The King rose to see his faithful servant, Bontemps, has already dressed and washed and was waiting patiently for the day to start. Louis' own glossy black hair slowly fell from his cheeks to cover his eyes, he had to brush them past his ears to look at Bontemps.
"Good morning, Sire. Did you sleep well?" Louis simply nodded and began to sit on the right side of its bed. Bontemps walked towards the servants' door and knocked twice. Almost immediately, six servants have walked in a fast pace carrying Louis' clothes for today. One of the servants carefully pushed a full-length mirror with a golden frame handcrafted by the very best of Venice's artists, and Louis naturally stepped in front of it.
A chemise in a white in the softest silk France has ever known, decorated with laced ruffles around the wrists and neck that would gently sway every time Louis moved his hands or simply, moved. These laces were from Milan, the softest and lightest there were to be bought with money. A pair of black linen hoses was to go with the outfit today, which was comfortably worn right beneath it. But all these were to be hidden under one of Louis' favorite jacket, an artisan piece which the blue of the velvet fabric that hung right by Louis' knees was the unspeakable depth of the water, serene with a trembling presence of royalty. Yards of golden threads were hand sewn delicately along the arms and down the chest spreading like branches in heavy floral patterns topped by the best jewels in Europe. Sparkles of diamonds and rubies highlighted the King's divineness.
The King sat once more at the foot of his bed, while a servant put his feet into a pair of red leather heels with a golden buckle on top. Louis rose once again and strode towards the mirror.
At last, a long strand of stiffened silk was the brightest of red, tightened around Louis' waist as the servant carefully adjusted its place.
All the trouble and thoughts put into the wardrobe of the King of France were for one purpose and one purpose only - to scream grandeur to all eyes.
"Bontemps, have the Duc et Duchess d'Orléans sent to me once they arrive."
"Yes, sire," and everyone followed their King out of the Chamber, whose mind was still lingering on that fine afternoon outside his now grand Versailles, but for the then twenty-one-year-old, it was a pause for breathing with a lovely girl away from Paris, away from duty, away from being King.
"Come on!" Strands of her golden hair were flying as she roamed across the trees on her pearl white mare, and she turned her head back for a second to give Louis the smile he would never forget.
He was dazed to catch up to the dream ahead of him, a few feet before him but seemed to be forever out of reach. He once again pulled the leather reins in his hands to urge her black Stallion to run faster.
"I'm going to catch you, Minette!" It did not matter to Louis who won the little racing game, nothing really mattered when Henriette was with him. Having grown up together, Louis and Henriette were the closest of friends, apart from Philippe, Louis' only brother. No other kids their age would dare to challenge the King, and Louis has been King ever since he was just eleven.
Who would dare to humiliate the King of France in a racing game? No one would want to lose their heads over some children's games, but little did they know, it wasn't pleasant to win, or to have to win, all the time.
Henriette was different. She knew Louis like no others, not even his mother. Minette saw the tenderness that was inside Louis and the exhaustion of his mind, to be ever cautious with the people around him, and to behave properly like a dignified King would. Sometimes, Louis felt like the most impotent man in France because there was no Louis, there was only Louis the Great, the Sun King.
But once in a while, he got to step away from all the politics for an afternoon or two, and Henriette would be here. She knew exactly what to do, what to ignite in Louis to make him feel complete and powerful again.
"Whoever reaches the Fountain first wins!" Henriette's white mare seemed to be excited by her master's words, that she ran even faster, leaving a good few yards between the two horses. Louis wanted to be ahead of Henriette, not to win, but because you can only look at her face if you're in the front.
Our God must be a benevolent and omnipotent one, for only a God so great can create a girl so beautiful and divine, thought Louis every single time he caught her emerald eyes, deeper and more mysterious than the forests' livid green. Her golden locks were always tightly braided, what would Louis give to have his finger entwined between those silky threads.
Lost in thoughts, Louis was surprised by the abrupt stop of Henriette, who was already starting to dismount from her mare. Of course, it was not considered proper for a noble lady to be on a horse, but she was the King's cousin, and Louis would give her anything her heart desires.
"You are distracted today, come here," Henriette sat down by the Fountain, her eyes focused on Louis who was elegantly dismounting in a skillful pace.
I would break her heart with mine, Louis felt starks of pain in his chest that he could not ignore any longer.
He led both their horses to the nearest tree, and tied the reins. He didn't want to sit next to Henriette, knowing what must be done. But he left his brother out of this afternoon trip for a reason, and a King must perform his duty. A man must perform his duty to those he is responsible to.
He walked towards Henriette with a smile, hoping his face wouldn't betray his heart. Sitting in front of him was the girl he wanted, and the girl he could never have.
"Where's Philippe today? I thought he wanted to ride too." Her eyes were fixed onto the blue sky above their head, cloudless, a vacant canvas for the curious mind to wonder.
"He, erm, I had him stay in the lodge," he was staring at her jawline, along her pale cheek to her lips the color of blooming rose. He has always hated the paintings in the castles, all so lifeless and forceful, but yet, they all seemed to be staring at him eerily when the night grew tired and the candles were lit. If only the artists would look at Henriette and see what a blasphemy it would be to paint her, to lock the ethereal her inside a stiff portrait. But god, did Louis want to capture this forever, her under the sunlight, content, next to him.
"Whatever for? He would love the breeze out here," and she looked at him.
Louis was rarely speechless, because a King should always know how to address his people, but now he wasn't addressing his people, he was simply talking to a friend, a dear dear friend.
"Minette, you know I am fond of you and I like having you here, and Philippe of course," her emerald eyes were fixed on him, and suddenly he forgot the next word that was stuck in his throat. She just looked so happy, and he hated to think that what came out of him would taint this moment forever.
She simply took his hand and placed them on her lap, over the deep blue satin dress. He had never known skin could be so soft and fragile, but alive and warmth at the same time. The sun was strong today, but nothing compared to that hearth she has ignited once again in Louis that melted his deepest fear, but it also started to burn him on the inside. "And I am fond of both of you, too, and…"
"I am to marry Maria Theresa of Spain."
Her fingers loosened, but Louis' palm was still safe within her hands. She never took away her gaze, but the smile she wore seconds ago was fading, like an unexpected rainstorm that came brooding.
"Congratulations, sire. I am sure…"
"It was not my choice." Louis begged in his heart that Henriette understood. "We need to put Spain in their place and my mother…she demands me to marry their princess, my cousin."
But she took it just like any other ordinary news Louis could share with her. "That is good to know. The Queen Mother is a very wise and thoughtful woman, I am sure…"
Louis could not hear another word of etiquette. He wanted, needed, Henriette to understand that it wasn't his choice, it was never his decision to make. He enclosed her hands with his other free hand, and held them hard.
"You are not sure. You cannot be sure. It's you. It has always been you, Minette. From the moment you danced with me in the masquerade, from the moment you planted a kiss on my cheek." But as if rejecting any more shock, she looked away and tried to stand up, Louis held on.
"I love you."
The ruffling sound of the millions of leaves in the forest was silenced by the dying breeze, but none of them were aware of anything, anything but their hands still together somehow.
"I have duties to fulfill, and so do you. As the King to my people, to you, I must do what would be best for France, no matter how much I disagree, Minette. You have no idea just how much." She pulled her hands free, and the forceful smile she had on was finally let go. Her lips were slightly open, but the words, if there were any, would not come out. There were too many of them. Or perhaps, they shouldn't come out.
"Why are you telling me now and here?" Her usual voice of cherry and wine turned coarse, and the teasing she gave out when they were riding had gone without a trace. Her cheeks had never been paler, but her eyes burned with unspeakable thoughts.
"Only you know, not even Philippe has heard. I made sure that you heard this from me. And I need you to know that if I could choose, you would be mine. You would always be mind, Minette." He hoped she heard just how desperate he was, trying to make her understand and agree, trying to make everything fine as it was yesterday, before his mother declared the he must marry a Spanish princess he had never met.
"Of course, my King."
She tore away from Louis' hands with strength normally hidden under layers of silk, satin and lace. She mounted her mare with no trouble, and she rode with haste back towards the lodge.
Louis sat by the Fountain, thinking about the day Henriette would wear that beautiful wedding dress, with another man holding her hands.
It had been an eventful morning, with dozens of letters from England and Holland. Many sent their late congratulations on the union of Philippe Duc d'Orléans and Princess Henriette of England to King Louis, who must be thrilled that his dearest brother had found such a matching wife. There were some letters about the shipping of Italian marble and glasses for the renovation for his father's old hunting lodge, but none of them really held a place in Louis' mind that day.
Henriette was coming back, with Philippe as her husband.
The night before he had spent with his queen, another tedious night with little conversation and zero connection. When they first married, sex would be a way to distract themselves from their binding and loveless marriage. But now that Queen Maria was already blessed with a child, there was simply no point in making love when there was no love at all to begin with.
But none of the previous night has lingered on Louis. For the past weeks, only one thought really stayed in Louis' mind day and night, a doubt that he could not erase no matter how sure he was of his own decision.
"Philippe, my brother, shall marry Princess Henriette as an alliance to England." Louis himself had declared the marriage in front of his counsel and his brother, who would never be worthy of Henriette. As indecisive as his dear brother may be, Philippe has already found love for himself. Unusual that might be, Louis had seen enough to know that it was real.
Louis loved his brother, no matter where he wanted to go, or what he desired to do, he would indulge him. He even let Chevalier de Lorraine stay with them when Philippe visited his brother. He only had one brother, and he had the responsibility and the native instinct to take care of him. But Phillipe, too, had to know they all had their own duties.
Setting Philippe and Henriette together would be to torture the earlier, and ruin the latter. But a king must do what is best for his people.
Once again trying to extinguish the doubt, Louis found himself staring at his glass of Rosé. The color of her cheeks in summer…
"Sire, the Duc et Duchess d'Orléans have entered the gate of Fontainebleau."
Louis stood up, and walked towards the two people he loved most in the world.