Three years ago, at the Court of Versailles.
"The prognosis is not good," sighed a white-clad doctor to the patient's clearly distraught wife. "The poison is working its way through his body at a rate too fast to be stopped by any of the antiviral medications we have available, and we estimate that it is a mere matter of hours until it shuts down the heart. An exact timeframe I cannot give, but I would again stress that he has very little time left."
Breaking through her stream of tears and agony, the wife managed to make a plaintive plea, "Please, do whatever it is you can for him. I know he wants to live, but don't let him suffer, that'd be even worse—just do anything you can."
"We've begun administering a morphine drip to dull whatever pain he is feeling, but in the state he's in, I would doubt he's feeling anything," replied the doctor. "Do you wish us to say?"
"No, leave, if there's nothing more to be done," said the woman quietly as she gazed upon the now almost lifeless body of her beloved husband. The glow that had so characterized his appearance and his life was fading away into a pale melancholia, as his silent breathing grew more and more strained. "Oh, Henri," murmured the wife as she knelt down by his bedside and clasped her hands around his left, "we've been through so much together, so many trials and troubles---is this how thirty years of marriage is to end? All thanks to an assassin's potion? Why must the Lord look upon his servants with such dismay—what have we done to deserve this?"
For the couple in question were not just any normal husband and wife, they were royalty. And not just any sort of royalty, but they were French royalty, sitting on the throne that had been occupied by their predecessors for more than two millennia. King Henri XIII was beloved by his people, and had eagerly joined His Holiness Pope Alessandro in creating a new era of peace for all Europeans, both human and vampire. Peace was his dream not just for his own people or his continent, but for the world.
Peace. What a noble goal and idea for the world, yet also full of bitter ironies. Did peacemakers such as the King really deserve to be slain? Why was it that God's servants should be tried in such a brutal manner? This was the question that Teresa de Medici, the soon to be Queen Dowager of France and Navarre, demanded an answer to from her Lord and Saviour. "Why, oh why, dear God, do you subject us to the same trials you placed your son? He died so that we might live in peace and freedom from fear, not so that we would experience great pain and agony---why? Why have you forsaken your servant Henri? Why have you forsaken France? Why have you forsaken me?"
The Queen's laments continued uninterrupted for nearly an hour when an attendant entered the room and asked the Queen if the royal children, the young Dauphin and Madame Royal, should be brought to their father's deathbed.
"No, no, no, no," Teresa insisted, visibly shaking. "This is a spectacle that young eyes should not witness. Leave them be."
"What should I do with them, Majesty," said the somewhat-confused attendant. "They are beginning to wonder what's happening."
"Take them to the Chapel and have them pray. Hard. Let them know that their mother is safe, and that their father shall soon be in the glory of God."
"As you wish, Your Majesty, I shall do as you instruct, but…"
"But what, dear Madame Ventadour?"
"I cannot help but think that His Majesty would not want you to cling to his bedside. I do know what it's like to lose a husband, indeed I do, Ma'am, but maybe you need to begin making the preparations for what will happen when your son sits on the throne. His Majesty's body may be mortal, but his kingship is everlasting," advised the Duchess, who was speaking about the eventuality of the young Dauphin coming to the throne and the need for a regency for the child. France's government must go on despite the loss of her sovereign, after all.
"Your counsel is welcome. But please leave us for the moment, though. We need time for reflection," ordered the Queen as the attendant left the bedchamber. "Reflection indeed," pondered Her Majesty as she stayed by the side of her dying husband. What could she possibly do to ensure that France would retain good government? She was but a woman and had very little taste or inclination towards politics, a fact that set her apart from many of her Medici relatives. Medici--now there was a name that could get you places in the world. Since Armageddon they had provided many Roman Popes, Queens and Duchesses Consort, and countless billions in cash to the movers and shakers of the continent. With the other notable royal families of the continent, they helped to govern what was left of humanity.
Perhaps France, though she was ruled by the Bourbons, deserved to experience the benefit of Medici rule, thought the Queen. Her dear cousin Francesco, specifically, could serve as the Chancellor of the realm on behalf of the Queen Regent. Francesco had made quite the name for himself as head of the Papal Inquisition and the overall commander of the Vatican's military forces, and had he not been limited by the illegitimate circumstances of his birth, may very well be Pope today in lieu of his half brother. The Empire and the Vatican were at peace, and Francesco was no doubt very restless. Perhaps he would make a fine minister for her son, thought Teresa as she continued her vigil.
Three days later, at the Vatican residence of Cardinal Medici:
"So King Henri is no more, it appears," said the Tuscan Cardinal to no one in particular as he read the day's situation report. Henri and the Bourbons had always gotten on the nerves of the Cardinal, for they were part of the peace camp that had infected the Vatican and tainted his brother Alessandro into thinking that man and vampire could coexist. Even though they were a Catholic dynasty and were still holders of the title Most Christian King, Medici felt they showed little love for sacred doctrine. Rome was the representative of God's authority on Earth, and no King could or would violate her decrees without being damned to hell. At least, that was what Francesco still held to be true.
But did that really matter these days? Alessandro, fool that he was, had issued a bull that argued that the Methuselah were creatures of God just as much as men were, and that they held the same rights and privileges that we, the non-parasites, did. This, combined with the signing of the Athens Treaty of Perpetual Peace with the Empire and the marriage of a peer of that empire to the Queen of Albion led to a stark change in cultural attitudes. Now, just eight years after the supposed defeat of the Contra Mundi at Londinum, it was as if man and vampire had never been enemies! This cost the Florentine prince his power: he had since been reassigned as Prefect of the Congregation for the Sacred Doctrine, removing his privileged place at his brother's side. That damned Crusnik was also making great strides- he was now Bishop, and rumour had it that he would soon be made a Cardinal. A vampire as a Prince of the Church? What in the name of all that is holy were they coming to? Dear Caterina, it seemed, had managed to outsmart him---for now.
Politics aside, Francesco was appalled by the flagrant disregard for the Sacred Doctrine. Did it ever occur to anyone that they were ignoring their mission from God to protect his creation against invasion by the Devil's handiwork? Why was man so eager to make friends with his enemy?
This was a question that he often pondered when reading situation briefs, and was about to read another dispatch detailing some succession problem in one of the German states when, all of a sudden, he discovered a simple white envelope within packet. It wasn't clear who sent it at first, for all that was on the front was a handwritten "To Cardinal Medici", but, once he flipped it over to open it, Francesco observed the royal seal of France on the envelope.
"What could cousin possibly need my help with? Surely Versailles will still keep her on the civil list," thought the Cardinal as he gingerly opened the envelope and took out the contained letter.
"Your Eminence," began the letter, "I write to you in this most profound time of need for both my family and the French nation. By the time you receive this letter, you will have heard, I am sure, that my sovereign lord and master, Henri XIII, the Most Christian King of France and Navarre, has been called home to Heaven by our heavenly Father, and has thus left his wife and two children, as well as his subjects, without a father and guide. My son now sits upon the most ancient throne as Charles XV, and my husband commended me to the nation as his protector and thus as Regent of the Realm. I am deeply encouraged by this honor and by the trust that the nation has placed in me, but I still do not trust my talents to govern. I am a simple woman, and I hold no wish to engage in the deals and games that is necessary to play politics. Such, I hope, will not offend you or my family, for I merely wish to lead a life that all widows should be entitled to lead: one of reflection and peace.
Thus I beseech you, on the behalf of the people of France, her peers, knights, and officers, that you come to Versailles and serve as my chief minister. Your wisdom and temperance in dealing with the threats posed to Christendom are most revered in our nation, and your gift of administration is most appreciated as well. You shall have a broad mandate in conducting affairs of state, your power only limited by the advice you are bound to hear from the Parlements and the Peers of the Realm.
I understand this is a great imposition I ask of you, but I would hope, dear cousin, that you would do honour to our family's name by assuming this position. The fatherland is in need of a great statesman to guide her through these confusing and changing times, and I pray that God may grant us your presence.
-Teresa, Queen Mother of France and Regent of the Realm."
Versailles would be a nice change of scene, mused the Cardinal as he read and re-read his cousin's letter. It would certainly allow him space to breath and give him lots of room to run affairs as he saw fit. He wouldn't be kept cooped up by the Sforza-Nightroad duumvirate there, and maybe he could turn France into a truly Most Christian Kingdom, a beacon for the entire world. If Rome was beyond redemption, then maybe a new one could be built to supplant it...
"May God keep and defend His Majesty Charles XV," Francesco said smiling as he began writing his acceptance of the position. "And may he protect the Medici, Regents of France!"
Author's Note: Please Review. I welcome any commentary or criticism, and would like to hear your ideas for the story. Also note that I will make references to countries that are not explicitly named in the anime or manga (though be warned I have only watched the anime, and am still working my way through the series, but I do know how it ends), this is purely for purposes of storyline. So yeah, you can consider this an AU.
Also, for pairings, so far I have identified Abel/Asta, Ion/Esther--there may be more, but it depends on how I develop the story.