CHAPTER 3
Bumping down the road towards Versailles in the Range Rover Huygens had gotten from Newton at last year's Super-Scientist Christmas Party, Louis fidgeted nervously in his seat as the (actual) Dutchman across from him attempted to explain the situation. "Your Majesty, what Fouquet has managed to do is incredible! He has somehow created a time vortex that surrounds his person which allows him to both simultaneously suspend and travel through time! This is an amazing breakthrough in scientific discovery! I cannot wait to speak with him!" Louis pursed his lips and snapped, "You make it sound as though he is some sort of hero! He made a complete fool out of me!" Suppressing a smirk at the memory of the less regally-clad monarch, Huygens answered, "Not at all, sire. A hero for science can still be an enemy of the state. He deserves whatever treatment you choose to bestow upon him. Perhaps you can even bottle his talents for your own use?" Louis fell silent as he looked at his own reflection in the car window. While certainly not old, he was not the man he was in his youth. By reversing his own time while allowing his surroundings to progress normally, it was foreseeable rule his kingdom forever! If there was a kingdom to rule, that is. For when they pulled into the drive, the place he had known as his darling Versailles was practically unrecognisable.
Louis's face lit up. "I'm already beginning to like some of the changes around here!" chimed Louis, nodding approvingly.
The statue towering over Huygens's Range was a glorious depiction of Louis XIV at the height of his reign riding a suspiciously small horse across the Place d'Arms. Behind it was a vast car park filled with large coaches from across Europe.
"Nobility from all-over have come to pay homage to my magnificence!" boasted Louis.
Huygens groaned. "I don't think you quite understand the gravity of the situation, Your Majesty."
"Nonsense Huygens! Allow me to see my people!"
"As you wish, Majesty."
Louis put on his tallest heels and approached the courtyard. It was strange, the queue of people outside his château. Things were never so orderly at Versailles before! Suddenly, a group of strange women ran towards him. With their flat faces and wide eyes, they were like nothing he had seen before. Certainly they had come from the edge of the world.
"Oooooooo kawaii~~~~~", they screamed. Louis did not understand their most inappropriate behaviour, so he pushed them aside and continued forward.
People in the oddest clothing he had ever seen kept gaping at him, as though he was the strange one! When he attempted to walk to towards the palace gates, he was directed by an angry tan man to get at the end of the massive queue. Imagine he, the glorious king on the (not-at-all small) horse in front of his palace forced to stand with the people presumably there to see him! Unaccustomed to the highly uneven cobblestones, he wobbled over to where he was told, grasping an irritable Huygens for support. There were large groups of the strange women who he had seen earlier who kept holding up small boxes and shining lights at him, then giggling as they showed them to one another. "Huygens, I don't understand! What's happening? Why am I queuing to enter my own home?" The Dutchman solemly shook his head, and pointed to the front, where two young people dressed more nicely than the rest appeared to be arguing with some sort of guard. Louis' eyes widened as he caught the bits of their conversation that was in French. Turning slowly to his companion, he whispered, "Am I hearing this correctly?! They cannot come to visit me BECAUSE they are dressed less offensively?"
Huygens nodded. "I believe so, yes. As I said, sire, things are not as they may have first appeared. This is Fouquet's doing, after all. It would stand to reason that he would reverse your cardinal rule, out of spite."
At that moment, a group of children passed out of the north ministers' wing and screamed at Louis and Huygens.
"Très jolie!" "Marie-Antoinette!" "C'est la Reine!"
Louis recoiled and grimaced. "La Reine?! LA REINE!? And who in the hell is this creepy 'Antoinette Husband'?"
"Not even I fully understand yet, Majesty, but from our research, in this world you married this Marie-Antoinette who then leaves you for a shorter man named Napoleon."
Steam began to rise from Louis's head, though it cannot be certain whether it came from anger or evaporating sweat from under his enormous wig facing bombardment from the sweltering French sun. Eventually, Louis reached the front of the queue and began to make his way gracefully in to the château at last.
"Monsieur. Arrêt! Ce n'est pas possible! C'est costume incorrecte!"
"QUOI!? JE SUIS L'ETAT. VOTRE ROY. STEP ASIDE."
Citoyenne Marianne looked annoyed and pulled Louis aside. "Please don't make a scene, monsieur. You are not dressed appropriately for Versailles. You must leave now."
"I think you are mistaken. As you can see I am wearing a coat, *and* I have brought my sword. Now let me pass."
As Louis flashed is hilt, Citoyenne Marianne's eyes widened with shock. She reached for her radio. "Citoyen Jacques! We have a code 1792!"
Immediately a team of gendarmes filed out of a Securité de la Domaine du Château Versailles car and chased after Louis. Louis grabbed Huygens's hand and ran, nearly tripping in his heels.
"To Saint-Cloud!" he screamed.
As they ran down the main road, they came upon a strange vehicle with the words "SAINT CLOUD". Without hesitation, he and Huygens jumped in, and Louis' eyes squinted as he was overwhelmed by a bunch of tan, buff, scantily clad men, all wearing different coloured sparkly speedos. After staring at Louis and Huyg ens in silence, one of the men came over and wrapped his arm around Louis.
"Well, aren't you just a precious couple? First time to Saint Cloud?" Pushing his arm away, Louis snarled, "We AREN'T a couple. I'm just going to see my brother."
The other man laughed, "Oh, there's no need to be ashamed where we're going. Everyone knows Saint Cloud is the biggest gay resort in Europe! But, you cuties are going to want to change if you're going to take advantage of those fab fountain pools!" Louis rolled his eyes. Even in this world, at least Philippe hadn't changed much.
The coach sped off as the onboard music resumed.
#Young-man, there's a place you can go!#
It was crowded, but Louis and Huygens managed to find seats. Not long after, the steward approached Louis and handed him a flamboyantly pink cocktail with a feather for garnish.
"Compliments of the gentleman there."
A bleach blond macho man a few rows ahead turned around and winked seductively at Louis. Disgusted, Louis poked at the cocktail now sitting before him before sliding it towards Huygens.
"Uch, want this?"
But Huygens was already distracted by the faggots in the row behind offering him penis-shaped cheese puffs.
As they approached the château, a video began to play overhead. Philippe came on camera and welcomed everyone in an extremely gay voice caused everyone on the coach to swoon.
"Bonjour mes petits-dejeuners, et bienvenue à Saint-Cloud!"
There was then an announcement that Samwell would be performing that evening and that stable boys would be available around the clock.
"I think I just vommed a little in my mouth," said Louis to Huygens.
As they stepped off the coach, Louis felt his jaw drop in spite of all the unexpected recent occurrences. The little hedge trees that once surrounded his brother's home had been replaced with massive palm trees, and the entire building was painted bright pink, like some sort of baroque barbie mansion. The fountains were chlorinated bright blue, and more slag fags were scattered amongst them, tossing dick-shaped inflatables at each other.
"MON DIEU! Mon frere, is that you? How nice of you to come to my little play house!"
Barely wanting to look in the direction of the exaggerated, simpering voice, he saw his brother standing there, looking down his nose over massive heart-shaped sunglasses. His neon, sequinned suit was blinding in the summer sun, like the many rings on his pink-painted nails that clutched an equally absurdly dressed white poodle.
"Philippe, we need to talk. This is serious." The words were almost impossible to say when he looked at this new incarnation of his brother, who rendered the Philippe he knew positively sober.
Philippe leaned in close. "Shhhh! I'm undercover!"
"Rather flamboyantly," sneered Louis softly.
"Like what I've done with the place?" Philippe continued ignoring Louis.
"This is certainly only something *you* could think of."
"Actually, it was Colbert's idea!"
"WHAT!?"
"Yeah! Colbert has secretly been gay this whole time!"
Louis was bemused.
"HAHA, JOKING! Everyone knows Colbert's only sexual interest is your face cast in gold."
"Charming." said Louis sarcastically. "
"Colbert thought this would be a good way to make money while we're stuck in this queer reality."
"Whatever. You better not have taken any of your Buttslut Youth out of my kitchen!"
"Don't worry mon frere, my *appetite* is just as strong as yours." assured Philippe slyly.
"You had better be referring to food," quipped Louis; "So explain to me again: *why* are you 'undercover'?"
"Well, if you haven't figured it out by now, Fouquet is TOTALLY gay. Rumour has it that his little morsel-of-a-catbum boyfriend is coming here tonight to my little arc-en-ciel sur la terre to see Samwell perform. I plan to seduce him and force him to-*giggle*-reveal all."
"All I need to know is where Fouquet is!" claimed Louis confidently; "When I find him I'm gonna pound his ass!"
Philippe giggled again. "Ooh I'm sure he'd like that."
Louis resisted his temptation to punch his snarky brother in the face, since he was yet again begrudgingly in his debt. Philippe took his brothers hand and led him upstairs, grinning as he saw his brother attempting to hide his flushed, shamed face from all the wolf whistles and vulgar calls as they passed. Once they were alone, Philippe proceeded to rummage through indistinguishable piles of silk and lace, finally flinging a mass at Louis.
"Change."
Louis scowled, and threw them on the ground. "Oh, no. I'm not getting stuck wearing some humiliating butt slut suit again. You can forget it! I am the ROI, despite how little that seems to be worth anymore."
He felt a dark cloud pass over his face. It had been so long since he had felt like himself or lived his own life, and the fact struck him with a heavy sense of sadness. Philippe's eyes widened; he had never seen his brother so vulnerable before. Sighing, he walked over and gently handed him the suit.
"Louis…I'm sorry about what's happened to you, really. But you have to do this; if you can, this will all be over. But Fouquet has to be defeated."
Slipping the pink silk blouse over his head, Louis looked sternly ahead. "Alright. You seduce the butt-slut. I'll be in the back, waiting for Fouquet to come find him. Even he would never expect me to play the footman."
Louis donned his latest ill-suited disguise and took to the servants' corridors in search of a salon in which to linger. Usually Louis only used the servants' passages when sneaking off for a little snack, be it in the kitchen or in his mistress's chambers. But now he felt strange passing through them in this manner. Busy workers brushed by him running in all directions as the festivities grew in to the night. He felt so small, so insignificant. He came to a busy salon and entered. Then it occurred to him. What on earth was he to do as a footman? Refill wine glasses? Stand by the door as decoration?
"I certainly wouldn't mind playing one of those cheeky footmen who try and steal a biscuit.. I'm famished!" Louis thought.
Several days without a grand couvert was beginning to reduce his strength. And it was at that moment his lack of blood sugars led him to believe he was hallucinating. In the salon was a man who must have weighed 35 stone. He spoke French with a terrible Scottish accent. But neither of those facts were what shocked Louis. It was his blue fleur-de-lys coronation robes and enormous peaked perruque. Why on God's Earth had Philippe hired HIM as his body double?
"DYA THINK IM SHEXY?" Fat Bastard barked at one patron before letting out a prolonged flatulence. "OH YEAH ITS GOOD TO BE THE KING"
Louis flinched as he felt himself vomit a little bit in his mouth. Could his brother possibly be this cruel?! Furthermore, how could anyone believe this disgusting creature was him? But, as Louis watched, it appeared that people DID believe. They bowed and showed him all the courtesy that had once been his alone. He gritted his teeth and set in to do his job. This crap couldn't continue any longer!
"HEY YA WEE BUTT SLUT. GET ME A DRINK."
Slowly turning a round, he came face to face with his greasy, revolting double. Fighting every urge to spit in his fat face, Louis forced a demure smile, "But of course...votre majestie."
Fat Bastard chortled, "EXCELLENT. Bring it up to the third floor: I need a little refreshment before my grand couvert."
As he waddled away, Louis darted back into the walls, into the servants passage. As he snuck along, he suddenly caught the muffled sound of his brother's high pitched giggle.
"Oh, you ARE a charmer, aren't you? Much too good for that rotten squirrel. I don't think he really...appreciates you..."
Louis slid into the room, unnoticed, but could scarcely hold back a gasp when he saw who was curled up against his brother. Batting his eyelashes, the man seductively pushed his thick auburn hair out of his face.
"Well, no one could give me what you can, darling!"
As he leaned in to take a grape from Philippe's hand, the couple froze as a voice shrieked, "CHRISTIAAN, WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?!"
Philippe gave Louis a death stare, reminding him to keep in character.
"Do forgive my footman, he's a little on edge today with the number of positively gorgeous boys swooning before him."
Philippe's companion giggled. "You clearly have me mistaken me, my sweet lad, for I am Christiaan's slender and tender, bender of a twin, Inge!" *giggle*
"I didn't know Huygens had a twin," thought Louis; "And is he really Fouquet's buttslut? AND WHATS WITH ALL THE GAY DUTCH PEOPLE!?"
Philippe understood Louis's continued confusion.
"Do excuse me for a moment ma cherie, but I simply must check on the ice penis to make sure it isn't..dripping! *giggle*"
Philippe headed down the corridor and Louis followed.
After ducking in to a small room Louis cried "YOU HAVE A LOT OF EXPLAINING TO DO BROTHER."
Philippe sighed, "Oh you must understand I've had such a crush on Huygens and his curling damask locks..*squee* When I found out about his brother, I just knew this was meant to be!"
"Yes yes, but what about MY DOUBLE!?"
"Oh.." Philippe exhaled as he put his head down; "You mean Bonnie Prince Fat Bastard, his cousin from Écosse. Inge promised to take care of him on his grandmother's deathbed. He's been depressed since he hasn't been able to follow his idol Henry VIII of England to a place on the throne, so Inge said he would only participate if his cousin could be your double. It has really made is week you know."
Louis was furious: "Made…made his week?! I DON'T CARE IF IT'S MADE HIS LIFE. Can you imagine how humiliating it is to have some greasy fat fuck galavanting around as you?! Furthermore, whatever happened to 'bros before hoes'?! To think you'd shame me like this over a piece of Dutch ass!"
Philippe's eyes widened in surprise. Usually his brother had such an even temper, but now, seeing him here, fists clenched and shaking, he wasn't sure how to respond. "Louis...look. It's all part of this ruse, you see? If fat bastard is playing you, no one will wonder why you've disappeared. Since you were gone for a while, they probably just think you had a few extra grand couverts. And about Inge...let's be honest here. Like you would have any reservations about embarrassing or mocking me for one of your titty bitches."
Louis looked away to hid the flushed irritation in his face. He knew his brother had a point, but it still stung to think that his people believed his self control was so little that he would allow himself to morph into that gelatinous monster. Maybe, when everything returned to normal, he might try a petit couvert every once and a while. Just as he turned back to respond to his brother, Philippe covered his mouth with his hand. The clack of angry heels on marble echoed louder and louder as they drew closer, and Louis' fists clenched once more as he heard Fouquet's voice, "Inge, Inge where are you my little chocolate sprinkle?"
"MERDE!" Louis and Philippe shouted together in a way only brothers can. "He's already here!"
They hurried back to their positions just in time for Fouquet to come around the corner. An outraged look came across face as his eyes discovered his beloved in the arms of his enemy's brother.
"Inge, HOW COULD YOU!?"
"I'm so sorry my baby squirrel, forgive me, but Philippe and I were truly meant to be together."
An evil smirk came across Fouquet's face. "You're absolutely right my dear." he said, cackling; "I never loved you. Ever. I was using you to get to Philippe THIS WHOLE TIME!"
"WHAT!?" cried Inge, tearing up.
"NO ONE SPEAKS TO MY INGE LIKE THAT." bellowed Philippe in a voice deeper than many had heard him emit before.
"Go on then. Let's duel. Allow me to capture you, bait your brother, and claim my rightful revenge on la Royaume de France!"
"Don't underestimate me again, Fouquet."
But Fouquet had a few new tricks in store. Philippe ran at him expecting as always to dazzle him with the reflections from his unworldly amounts of bling and take the upper hand, but a pair of sunglasses automatically dropped out of his wig and on to his face. Lunging forward, he plunged his sword in to Philippe driving him back until the sword became lodged in the wall.
"NOOO" cried Inge.
But Philippe was saved, if only by the fact that his enormous poof and slender frame led Fouquet to miss his person. Nonetheless, he left Philippe pinned to the wall, unable to move.
"The kingdom of the sun has no power over me now!"
But this was Louis's opportunity. The timid footman revealed his true identity. Drawing his own sword, he put his tip an inch from Fouquet's face.
"Au contraire Monsieur Fouquet."
He slowly walked forward; Fouquet slowly backed. There was hatred glaring between the two opponents. The room was dead silent. Fouquet's back touched the wall. He could retreat no further.
"Checkmate."
The room burst in to applause. Louis felt elated, his kingliness restored! It was all over. He had won. Suddenly, the door to his left burst open with tremendous force, and Louis went flying across the room.
#DYNOMITE, DYNOMITE!#
A tall black man strode in to the salon.
"NO NEED TO FEAR, BLACK DYNAMITE IS HERE. Now which one-a you peckawoods is FO-QWAY?"
"YOU DIPSHIT! HIS MAJESTY HAD HIM CORNERED!" people in the room protested.
Fouquet sprung back in to the fight and wrapped a dagger around Black Dynamite's neck.
"Shiiiit."
"NOBODY MOVE" ordered Fouquet.
Having taken Black Dynamote hostage, Fouquet slowly backed towards the exit to escape, keeping a close eye on Louis. The salon fell silent again. The feeling was morbid at best. But then a massive fart broke the silence.
"OHHHH THAT ONE FELT A WEE BIT WET!"
Everyone, Fouquet included, grimaced. Fat Bastard was having his grand couvert on the floor above. Another massive round of flatulence shook the building, and the ceiling began to creak, and then crack. Fouquet looked up in horror. Fat Bastard burst through. The massive "fat fuck" crushed Fouquet before smashing through the floor below.
The men stood silent, looking at Fouquet's limp hand protruding out of fat bastards enormous ass, who continued to eat, seemingly unfazed by the fact that he had just crashed through the floor. Slowly, his beady, watery eyes locked onto Louis, and his face flushed as he summoned all of his strength to push himself onto his feet, his huge ankles quivering in heels that strained under the vast weight.
Hand shaking, fat bastard pointed at Louis, and bellowed, " YOU! YOU'RE THE WEE BUTT-SLUT WHO DIDN'T BRING ME MY DRINK!"
"I don't recall ever having been asked, sir" peeped Inge, who had been cowering behind Louis.
"He's talking about ME, you idiot!" Inge's cheeks blushed, and he grabbed onto Louis' sleeve.
"I thought Philippe said you were one of those dirty breeders! Thank god, because I've been wanting to ask if you would be interested in a how do you say en francais, ménage a trois?"
Philippe couldn't help but snicker when his brother shot daggers into the little Dutchman, who silently slunk back behind him.
"GET OUTTA HERE, YE FUDGEPACKERS. I want to talk with this frilly dwarf, ALONE."