Chapter 21: Versailles

December 27, 1785

The Palace of Versailles was something almost out of a fairy tale if it weren't so garish and the country wasn't so reeked with poverty and squalor. The Lafayettes had gone through the gardens that were gigantic and absolutely ostentatious with golden fountains and statues alike. Genevieve couldn't help but wonder how many livres invested in the gardens alone could have gone toward the people of France.

Wearing a simple but lovely pale dress that reached her wrists as her arm looped through her husband's, Genevieve followed the majordomo up the steps and into the grand palace. Even in the main hall, she knew that the château was far bigger than she could even imagine. She wondered whether or not it was ever full.

Past the ballrooms and numerous staircases and rooms and even a theatre, the three of them finally reached the ceremonial hall. Lafayette stiffened, clearly recognizing the doors and she gave the slightest squeeze. Not one the guards could realize as friendly but just enough to know that she was at his side.

If only she could stand closer to Lafayette, to feel his warmth seep into her bones and stave off her own worry. With all the political experience under her corset, she still couldn't bring herself to stop imagining what could possibly happen, or go wrong.

But every intention was made clear in the language of movement. Lafayette let out a small breath, one indiscernible by everyone except her, as if to brace himself as the doors began to open. Despite everything, she tried to imagine her two children who were still with Gerard back at the Hôtel. God, give us the courage and pray that we don't overstep, she let her eyes close for a second before opening them.

The doors opened to reveal long, narrow room with the same prolific ambiance of the gardens before. The majordomo stepped inside and to the right, sweeping an arm back and with a leg bent behind the other, bowing deeply to the two figures at the end of the room.

"Monsieur le marquis de Lafayette," suddenly her head felt light. From across the room she could feel the burning stares of the ladies-in-waiting and butlers, but more than that, she could feel the scathing sensation that stemmed from two pairs of eyes that sat atop the thrones, "et sa femme, la marquise."

The hall was full of windows and light as the weak sun's rays shone through and reflected off the crystal chandeliers. The long glass, some stained, some not, lit the gold on fire and the red velvet carpet seemed to glow like the sun as it laid atop the mosaics. The curtains, thick, luxurious and intricate in detail, were drawn back with golden tassels and if they were anywhere else, Genevieve would've loved to run her hands through the fabric and explore every inch of this single room. Instead, her blood froze.

Barely registering that it was her cue to move, Genevieve felt her legs move robotically under her dress. Not taking her eyes off the two monarchs, she clamped down on Lafayette's arm and he didn't even wince.

Granted, he was already holding his breath and it wasn't because of how tightly his tailcoat was buttoned up, the golden buttons clasped firmly around his neck.

King Louis XVI of France and his Austrian queen watched as they slowly progressed down towards them. The monarchs scanned their figures, their dress, and their etiquette with a poisonous eye as the patriots finally stopped a respectful distance away.

Genevieve prayed that what she was wearing was appropriate. Lafayette had seemed to think so. It was expensive, she knew even without her husband telling her when he had brought it home fresh from the tailor yesterday, but with his reassurance that it would not outshine anything the King and Queen would wear.

And did the two monarchs look lavishly beautiful in white and gold draping fabrics. The King, silver draping sleeves and heavy ermine coat with his coat of arms embroidered in the other side, was decidedly flushed and with enough meat around his neck and in his cheeks to feed one small and incredibly famished child. He sat there, scepter in hand as his beady little eyes stared at the marquis. Genevieve only stared. Never had she seen someone so ridiculously dressed yet possessing such dignity in his appearance.

Then again, this was the King.

Lafayette bowed, nearly cinching himself in the waist as he kept his whole body taut. Tension radiated off of him in waves and Genevieve mirrored his manners, curtseying as deep as she could. It was something she had never seen before nor had done in her life. America, newly liberated and lax on propriety even before that time, would have called the courtly bow Lafayette was using strange and the deep curtsey she was holding for what seemed like hours slightly preposterous even if elegant.

King Louis looked somehow much older than his thirty-one years, much older than Lafayette would in three years time and held a smile that looked completely fake yet held its own merit of realism.

Her husband said something but she didn't hear it. What she did hear, though, as she stared at the red velvet under her heels, was the voice of the King. "Rise." Rising in synchronization, Genevieve finally allowed herself to watch the Queen as the King seemed to nod slightly in approval.

Marie-Antoinette, Austrian born and raised, was all porcelain skin caked in powder, rosy cheeks and mousy brown hair piled atop her head as off-white feathers on an intricate silver hairpiece wilted gracefully. Her eyes, decidedly bigger than her husband's, were narrowed as her dark brows arched in an unnamed expression. She was not as easily pleased, straight-backed and the very definition of pride in her slight smirk that inhabited her neutral mask.

Despite that, Genevieve realized that they weren't untouchable. The mere thought of the blade strapped to her thigh calmed her rapid heart. Although the absolute hatred in her gaze - as they warned by Jefferson for their American exploits - from the Queen, Genevieve felt calm wash over her. Angelica's words echoed in her mind as she took the deepest breath she could without giving it away.

"Not everyone's untouchable. A cool head can go a long way when you are speaking to someone with more power than you can ever imagine. And a woman tends to be so unsuspecting that before they even know it, you can hold all the cards."

"Monsieur and Madame de Lafayette, how considerate of you to be here so soon." The King again, offering the kindest words that would probably be said today. Genevieve, bless the Lord, felt the very refreshing lessons of French Gerard had all but drilled into her head. With every word the butler had said, memories of her own mother teaching her had flooded back.

"It is an honour, your majesty. The regret is that I could not have made haste sooner." Keeping the blank expression upon her face, she watched carefully as Lafayette appealed to his King. "I was extremely preoccupied as I made the journey from America. Many thanks for your patience."

"And what was the cause of this?" The Queen asked, almost too courteously. Genevieve saw how the King watched his wife, showing no distaste yet holding no love or interest. "We are, however, extremely pleased nonetheless," the use of the word was never more falsely used, "that the coups and rebellions against royalists have not stalled you forever." A cruel chuckle. "However, it is to our knowledge that your little mutiny had ended nearly three years ago."

Whatever response Lafayette had built melted away in his mouth. He spared a glance at the brunette beside him and Genevieve had to will herself not to look at him. Taking a deep breath and sending a prayer to every single God, even the ones she knew didn't exist, she spoke.

"The marquis and I met before the war. I would say that I was the cause of his delay as he seeked my hand, although if the time was ill spent," a side glance to her husband who was regarding her with discomfort. Carefully impartial, her words conveyed neither pleasure nor displeasure as her French held steady, "that is up to him to decide." A smile towards the monarchs, one as if completely genuine unless you were one who knew her well. In this case, it was Lafayette.

"Genevieve Alcott, the new marquise de Lafayette." Genevieve decided to disregard the fact that the Queen had called her the 'new' one, as if Lafayette had time to marry another woman. "I must admit, you were not what I expected when Minister Jefferson had spoken of an American woman." She was unsure if that was an insult or compliment. "Though, do tell me, are you arranged to marry as many women of Europe are?"

Success. Exactly what they wanted the monarchs to think.

Yet...

The silence could have allowed one to hear a mouse shuffle across the shining floor as Genevieve felt her throat constrict. It's what she had planned, yet saying those words out loud caused pangs in her core. The quiet began to grow, trying to choke the life out of her. "Do women grow to love the husbands they were assigned to?" She countered at last. Not a denial nor an affirmation. "I was merely a tavern owner's daughter. Should someone as rich and powerful as the marquis choose me to be his bride, then who am I to refuse?" The implications behind her words were devastating.

The shock that radiated from her husband caused regret to well in her soul for every single word, she wanted to take back. With one quick glance at her stock-still husband, one that said, You know that I married you for who you are and not for what you have, Genevieve returned her gaze to the thrones, expecting to find a burning stare drilling into her skull. But Her Majesty was taking in her words, mulling them over as they were delivered without hesitation and without a shakiness that could not be accounted to her disfluency in the language.

Doubtful words sounded differently than that of lack of practice.

"I see." A smile, a smirk, a sneer. All looked the same on that woman's face as she nodded, gleaning from the information Genevieve had falsely put out, "Yes, us women have to sacrifice a great many things to go far in this time. Don't you agree?"

Readily: "Of course, your Majesty."

The King took this pause in between the two women to interject, "Lafayette," he raised his head, "I must admit that you have picked well. We were skeptical at the first mention of you marrying an American." The King squeezed his scepter tighter, whether on habit or on purpose, Genevieve was unsure. "Now that we see her in person, we can finally match words to a face and a pretty one indeed." Lafayette stiffened more, if that was even possible, "Your decision, while bewildering and slightly offensive, is less so in our eyes."

Offensive, how? Because he couldn't find a decent woman in Paris? Genevieve thought sourly. With you running the show, I can see why so many of them are not. She thought back to the kind girls and boys she had seen just yesterday in the streets. Hopefully the next generation will be happier than theirs. Shoving down her feelings, she only gave a polite smile as Lafayette nodded, "Thank you, your Majesty."

"We wish you and your wife all the happiness." Despite the compliment, it sounded forced between gritted teeth.

"Thank you, your Majesties." He repeated, "And to you as well. May the good tides of fortune fall on your shoulders." Genevieve wanted to raise a disbelieving eyebrow and when she glanced at the Queen, the exact expression was mirrored in her face. That's laying it a bit thick, love, she thought, bemused despite their situation. Marie-Antoinette raised her chin slightly, as Lafayette bowed. The brunette may have been inexperienced with a royal court - the only 'Excellence' she ever had to address was George Washington and he was already an acquaintance - but then again, it could've been her husband trying to gain the King's favour.

"I'm sure you will show your gratitude through your service to our country," Louis remarked and Lafayette agreed. "Have you turned your attention to the circumstances surrounding Paris?" A sharp nod.

"Of course, your Majesty." Lafayette affirmed, "I have been giving the subject my undivided attention."

"A generous thing to say for a husband and father of two children." The Lafayettes froze. Their children could not be brought into this. Genevieve stiffened, out of the corner of her eye watching Lafayette's face twitch. I have to think fast. The Queen, triumphant, had that twist on her lips where one was unsure whether it was a smile or a smirk once again. "How old are they? Four?" The Queen must've intentionally gotten it wrong because when Genevieve looked into her eyes, she knew the truth.

"Three," the brunette corrected anyway, voice level. And she forced every feeling behind her eyes as she offered a small smile.

"Darling things, are they not? It seems family and politics are not so distant as they seem. Heat flared in her, like her blood was warming in the morning sun. The King himself looked away from his wife as Marie-Antoinette cocked her head just so. "Amusing, non? That despite your husband's 'undivided' attention, he seems to have enough time to form a family in how long? Less than a year?"

Genevieve could not find the heart in her to reply. Jefferson had informed the two of them of the rumors that had swept over France - cruel myths of the monarchy's infertility no doubt due to the amount of time it took to have an heir presented to their country. The King was obviously embarrassed and the two could hardly blame him.

"Yes," she finally croaked. "But other than that, politics is at the forefront of his mind," the distaste in her voice wasn't fake at all as she directed the attempt at dispelling the tension at Marie-Antoinette. Again, what she didn't say said more than what she did and the Queen leaned back, nodding.

"Le marquise de Lafayette, you have served your King's interests dutifully, no matter how unorthodox your methods." Turning to his hostile wife slightly, Louis continued, "He has unshackled America from England's hold and in doing so, has secured us an invaluable ally. He remains as faithful to France as we are now." Returning to Lafayette, he gave a curt nod, "I trust that we can rely on you to prove my words true, monsieur."

"Of course, your Majesty. I am your obedient servant, as I always was."

"Only time will tell," the poison decreased in potency as the King waved a hand, "We will speak again soon, monsieur le marquise."

"I look forward to that honour, your Majesty." They bowed and curtsied once more before turning around the room. Lafayette offered his arm to his wife who took it and as soon as they made it out of the long room, she stepped closer to him. The entrance was emptier, presumably because the monarchs were now leaving. Guards were nowhere in sight.

Letting out a breath, she wiped her hands in her dress as Lafayette brought her into a tight hug. Instinctively embracing him around his waist, she could hear his pounding heart under his ear. "Just by the trim of my skirt, that audience," she whispered and his chest rumbled with a laugh that, although shaky, was genuine and filled her with warmth.

"It went better than expected," he admitted and she pressed a chaste kiss against his jaw before splitting up. "Home?"

"Definitely - before anyone notices that I'm irrevocably in love with you."

A/N: Anyone else swamped as school draws to a close? Just me? Anyway, I have a few new ideas for the next Hamilton fic I'm gonna write. Poll is up on my profile.

REVIEWS:

stranger ways: TBH, I'm always sleep deprived so it's okay! Everything should be in historical order so nothing happened at the Palace of Versailles yet! Thank you for being so enthusiastic about my story though!

Strawberry the cat: Thank you for using your actual acc to follow this story! It means so much to me and I hope this little fluff in the end was enough to make up for the chapter.

TabbyCat: Thank you!