Author's note:

Hey there! Chapter 1 took a little bit longer to write than I had expected. Sorry!

Hope you enjoy!


Chapter 1


Oscar.

"The French National Guard?" I asked, staring at the general in astonishment.

He shrugged. "They currently are without commander. The last one was taken into custody for high treason as he supported an uprising. The whole company is out of control" he explained in a passing tone while signing documents. "It is certain that in such precarious times, we have to nip any riots in the bud. But no one wants to take the position." Looking up from the paper, he added "Until now, that is."

I slightly raised my eyebrows. I was not used to subduing a horde of rebellious men and I had certainly not been looking for it.

The reason why I had decided to leave the Royal Guard was that I wanted to distance myself from everything. I wanted to stop living for other people's sake. For the Royal Family and the nobility, I was High Commander of the Royal Guard, defender of the crown. For my father, on the other hand, I was son and heir of a family which had guarded the kings of France for generations. An honourable nobleman, loyal and obedient, that was all I was in their eyes.

But I was not sure if I still was or could be the loyal nobleman people saw in me.

What had really destabilized me, however, was Victor Clément de Girodelle's marriage proposal which my father had accepted without my knowledge.

When I had finally learned of it, first, I had only been puzzled that my father had decided to marry the daughter he had always seen as a son off to a man who was in fact inferior to her. Then, I got furious. For one part because Girodelle and even my father began to see me as something I did not want to be - and very few people knew I was - , but for the other much more serious part, because they had both taken the decision over my head, just as if my opinion did not matter, as if I was a good that you trade in. The fact that Girodelle had apologized did not change much about that.

The proposal had been the final straw.

Now, every time I looked into the mirror, I kept wondering whose reflection it really was that was staring back at me. I had begun to have doubts about my identity, evoked by continuous riots in Paris which the nobility continued to ignore and by the proposal.

I wanted a change. So, the day after, I had asked for transfer.

However, again, someone was foiling my plan. Again, someone forced a role on me I did not want. Again, my inner resistance was suppressed by duty.

I could hardly refuse now, given the fact that I had asked for transfer myself - and it was an order either way.

The general leaned back in his chair, looking at me closely. I guess it was obvious that I was not very delighted, although I tried to look impassive.

"It is not what you have expected" he said. It was rather a statement than a question.

"Not quite."

He got up and headed for the window, where he folded his arms behind the back and looked out to the gardens, considering something.

"We rarely ever get what we expect, do we? That is the problem with life. We never know what will happen. I mean, do you know today where we will be in five years? For my part, I do not. Therefore, we should be grateful for what we have or get" the general said.

If he had meant to convince me of the fact that I was given a great honour of becoming the commander of the French National Guard, I was afraid I would have to tell him he had failed. But I preferred to remain silent instead, which he used as an opportunity to turn around again.

"You can go then, Monsieur. What are you waiting for?"

A good question indeed. I cleared my throat. "The papers?"

He seemed to find that quite amusing, for he began to chuckle. "Oh. I do not think you will need them. You know, that is not the Royal Guard, they do not care much for these things there. It does not make any difference to them if you have papers to show or not. They will already hate you for being noble, and that is all. Even so, they are nothing but commoners, so I trust you do not attach much importance to their opinion."

"Well, I do" I said a little bit too prompt and too firm, biting my tongue. He screwed up his eyes and his expression showed suspicion. "How am I to interpret that, Monsieur?" he asked.

I inwardly told myself to go to hell for giving such an unconsidered answer.
"I meant to say that the disloyalty of soldiers to the crown may be a great danger to the regime if it is ignored" I replied, trying to sound self-confident, although I knew I was playing with fire. The meaning of these words was a different one to me than to him, but I had not lied at all and I hoped it was convincing enough.

He actually seemed to be reassured by that as he turned to the window again.

"Hm, yes. Yes, that is true. Concerning this, I hope you will make sure that their loyalty is on the right side."

"I will."


"Since when do you take decisions without consulting with me first?" my father shouted. He was furious and his voice loud, which made me feel the urge to cover my ears with my hands like a stubborn child. "Look at me when I am talking to you!"

Regardless of his demand, I remained seated at my desk and kept watching at my hands. For a short moment, I almost wanted to give in and apologize, like I was expected to do. The answer I chose instead nearly got me a box on the ears.

"Since you are taking my decisions without even letting me know about it" I replied. Granny's whimpering made him sink his hand again - and I think he also realized that there was some measure of truth in what I said, although he would not admit it.

"You are my son after all. You do not need to know anything, you only are to do what you are told" he said more calmly.

"Your son? Do you mean the son you were on the point of actually marrying off like a daughter? Maybe you should at last get it clear in your mind whether you want to have a son or a daughter. I am not a puppet you can treat as you wish"

His fist landed on the desk with a loud bang and I winced involuntarily.

"You", he hissed, "are a noble. Therefore, no matter if son or daughter, you should at least know where your place is. And for all I know, it is not at the French Guard."

"Well, it is not with a husband, either. Thank you, father, but in this case, I prefer the French Guard" I snapped back. He was speechless then, but I could not tell why. Maybe it was for my apparent lack of respect. Or maybe for the unvarnished truth I had revealed.


Author's note:

Thank you for reading! I'd love to hear what you think!