Author's note: I hope I didn't lose some of you after the last chapter haha! Thank you again for reading and sticking by to the story (: This one is a tad lighter, hopefully! Slight warning: mature content towards the end of the chapter.
…
A challenging day awaited the Commandant of the Royal Guard as soon as she stepped foot onto the elegant marble tiles of the Chateau de Versailles.
"Did you receive my message last night?" Victor's melodic voice resounded against the walls of the couloir as he walked beside her.
Why, certainly.
Except that she had done nothing about it. Naturally, for she had been… occupied. Tormented, was the correct word. She had then taken that tempest and mounting malaise and unleashed it all on Andre.
"… we did discern a pattern in the Black Knight's movement, I am happy to report, and…"
Poor Andre. All those years… how could she not have known or noticed?
"I thought you of all people would understand me the most." – she had accused him last night. And yet, was not she, herself, the one who was supposed to understand Andre the most? Practically joined at the hip since their youth, it was almost a given that each of them was the keeper of the other's quintessence. So much so that it had been evidently taken for granted by both of them. Fersen's presence in her life certainly hadn't helped matters between her and Andre.
"…his technique is predictable. The timing is almost exactly the same both times. Of course, we must continue to be vigilant, lest…"
Grandmere had informed her earlier this morning that Andre had taken ill and could not accompany her to Versailles today. Oscar had only nodded gravely, her curt response probably hurting Grandmere's feelings. She will apologize later. It was just difficult in the moment to process the fact that Andre was probably faking ill because he did not wish to see her. What now? Would he leave?
"…if you will allow me, I will relay the report in detail and…" Victor droned on.
She suddenly felt cold and trembly. A life without Andre was a horrible prospect that darkened her world by several shades. She shook her head to ward off this thought.
"Erm, do you not want me to relay the report?"
"Hm?" She startled. At least she had been alert enough in this one-sided conversation to detect a questioning inflection in her Lieutenant's speech. Although to what he was referring was completely lost on her.
"The report, Commandant. About the robberies and the Black Knight. To the King? I was asking if I could be the one to relay it, when you shook your head."
Good God! She shut her eyes momentarily, reproaching herself.
"Commandant?" Victor frowned. What was wrong with her today?! It was as if her attention was completely enraptured by another conversation that seemed to be taking place… inside her head.
"I… there was a fly and I shook it off. Please do proceed with the report."
"Very well," Victor enunciated slowly.
It was in the company of these reflections - instead of with the man on whom these reflections centered - that she entered into the King's meeting chamber with her Lieutenant in tow, having been summoned early in the morning to report on the recent attacks and detail an action plan.
Soon enough, the Commandant finally took hold over her and Oscar redirected her attention towards cold analysis of the goings-on. While calculating strategies to mitigate these unsettling events, she could not help but remark how, lately, it seemed that the Commandant had to climb a much higher threshold to make its presence into the forefront of her mind.
"You are free to love anyone you wish, Oscar…And you are free to choose your own life. Even if that choice is the most difficult."
Am I really free, Andre?
She thought as she gazed around her at His Majesty and all those who stood by him.
"No matter what you decide, I will always be there for you, if you'll let me…I wanted to kiss you. I… love you, Oscar."
…
The grand chamber designated as the bureau of the Commandant of the Royal Guard glowed warm hues of orange and gold. It was already sundown and the blue skies were now tinted in lovely shades of pastel pinks, blues and purples that rivaled the gowns of Marie Antoinette herself.
The Commandant of the Royal Guard sat in silence, contemplating the sky from her large windows.
Oscar Francois de Jarjayes had awoken to a new world that morning.
A different world.
An infinitely more complicated one.
Because falling in love with the Queen's favorite, then falling out of love with him and discovering one's own feelings towards one's best friend simply was not already complicated enough.
And now to discover that he actually loved her, too. For many long years, in fact.
A shiver ran up her spine at the very thought as a warmth filled her chest. How beautiful this feeling was!
And yet… could she really have any claim to it?
Hadn't she fancied herself in love once before, only to discover that it was nothing but an infatuation? An illusion that she had crafted to mask the void she had felt in her life?
She leaned back in her chair, twirling the feathers of a quill between her long fingers.
There was also another aspect to this conundrum that could no longer be ignored: Oscar was capable of acting out of pure lust and desire. The man in the Black Mask, or rather, Andre, had tapped something within her that she had not experienced with Fersen. Not even when the Swede himself kissed her.
Her cheeks flushed a deep red as her memory flitted from one clandestine encounter to another.
Within the span of a week, Oscar had racked up an impressive record of erotically-charged escapades, having kissed not one, but two (or three, if one is to count the Man in the Black Mask as a separate entity) men.
And who said that the Commandant of the Royal Guard was devoid of feeling and sentiment!
Elbows resting on the tables, she buried her head in the palms of her hands.
"Well done, Oscar, well done indeed."
Yet the question burned even more urgently now: Was she really, truly and faithfully in love with Andre? Or was it just a passing fancy borne of a void, or worse, pure lust and nothing more? How can she ever face Andre again if she herself was unsure?
As If Providence heard her silent plea, a knock on the door resounded just then, which she recognized immediately because there would only be one person coming to see her at this hour.
So, when she said "Entrez," the silhouette of Victor Clement de Girodelle materialized before her.
She stood up and walked to the window, as she listened absently while he briefed her on the day's proceedings at Versailles.
"As for tonight," he was about to conclude, when she held her hand up and turned to face him.
Victor held his breath. In the remaining light that bathed the room, Oscar's hair glowed like molten lava as it took on the colors of the glorious autumn sunset that streamed through the window behind her. In that moment, she appeared to him like an otherworldly creature, a beautiful siren, to be feared and revered.
"I will assume the night shift," she informed him casually as she made her way back to her bureau and began ruffling through some parchments, breaking the impromptu spell that had captured him a second ago.
"God knows, I cannot bear to go home this evening," she thought to herself.
"Is that so?"
Heaven merciful Lord that her back was turned to him. She bit her lip, her eyes wide in mortification. Was this a common thing now? Her thoughts just uncontrollably spilling out to whomever was listening? And why did it always have to happen with Victor of all people! Why not tell him the real reason why she did not want to go back to Jarjayes tonight, while she was at it? Il ne manque que ca!
She cleared her throat and turned to him. "Ahem, I was just referring to… err… the renovations. We are renovating a wing at Jarjayes and it hasn't been exactly… quiet. Ahem."
Victor did not give a response. Instead, he simply stared at her, as if he was searching for something. As if he knew something…
She broke eye contact with him, feeling uneasy.
"I see," he eventually said, his tone hard. "Very well, then. Good night, Commandant."
She nodded to him and turned to her parchments once more, but not before she heard him say:
"Forgive me," he stopped in his tracks, as if he forgot something and it only just came to him.
She turned sharply to face him, brows knitted, heart pounding. What now?
"You just look like… you haven't slept, Commandant. Are you sure you are up for an… encounter with the Black Knight tonight?"
She stared at him, arms crossed over her chest, her hands balled up into fists and hidden from view, thankfully. Absolutely nothing Victor said was to be taken at face value, she knew. Over the years, Oscar had learned that, when it came to her Lieutenant, there was always an underlying meaning to anything that came out of his mouth.
She wasn't sure what it was that propelled her to act next. Perhaps it was the sudden darkness that enveloped the room as the last shreds of light made their exit? Or the brazen way in which her Lieutenant questioned her competence and challenged her decision? Or maybe it was that sardonic glint in his eye that always made her feel as though he could see right through her somehow?
Whatever the reason, Oscar suddenly saw an opportunity. An answer.
She sauntered over to him, planting herself within an inch, replicating the same circumstances that transpired between them just yesterday. And while the last time she found herself in this position with Victor, she felt overrun, tonight, was different.
For Oscar François de Jarjayes had a purpose and a plan. And she also had a new weapon in her arsenal that she felt emboldened to wield. Seduction, she had recently learned, was a powerful weapon indeed. One which had the capacity to produce confessions and reveal truths hidden deep within one's self.
She brought her index finger to Victor's vest and began to draw invisible lines up and down his chest, along the silver seams. "Is that how you see me, Lieutenant?" she said, her voice huskier than usual, lips slightly parted, her large blue sapphires turned up at him, subtly batting their thick lashes.
Last night she had accused Andre of "using and hurting people" through his promiscuity and now… now she was doing the same exact thing. But surely, there was no harm in what she was doing now, was there? Victor, after all, was a notorious libertine himself. If anything, he might even welcome this intrusion.
And there was no denying the appeal of Victor. He was a beautiful man with unrivaled intellect and pleasing manners. He was the kind of man who was fully aware of the effect he had on others and he wholeheartedly embraced it, which rendered him all the more attractive. She finally understood why there were moments and looks that destabilized her in his presence: he was so connected and aware of his own sensuality in ways that she was not. That is, until now.
Would she feel the same way with Victor as she did with Andre? Would her body react the same?
If Victor was caught off guard by this sudden and unexpected display on the part of his Commandant, he was skilled at hiding it. She could now see a hint of a smirk tugging at his mouth, as he quickly caught on to her game.
"Do you…really…want to know?" he enunciated carefully, as he brought his hand to her face and gently caressed her right cheek with the tips of his fingers. A bold move, but how could he resist what would probably be the only opportunity he would ever have to be so close to the woman he desired most?
"Mmm," she hummed, closing her eyes. His touch electrified her. Certainly, she expected him to respond but my God, he wasted no time.
He cupped her face in his hands, and as he stroked her cheeks with his thumbs, he spoke:
"You are to me like the winter sun.
The littlest warmth on the coldest of days and the faintest light on the darkest of them.
Your undying radiance, shunning the despair.
Your far-reaching rays ushering in the new life of spring.
Unfailing and eternal.
You never cease to exist.
Your impression forever immortal."
They stared at one another, Oscar's breath becoming irregular. This, she had not expected. In the semi-darkness, she could see his steel-grey eyes sparkling, as if he was transported to his own version of Heaven. He was not even looking at her anymore.
He then ran his hands through her hair, gently caressing it, wishing to imprint the feeling of her soft golden waves as they filtered through his fingers, before resting them on her shoulders.
"… yet you are always so very far and distant," his voice betrayed a certain sadness that summoned the reality back and muted the spark in his eyes.
"…that," he asserted after a few quiet moments, "is how you look to me."
Maybe she was moved by his speech, or she had grown impatient or fearful that if she did not act right then and there, the situation would spin out of her control.
Her hands encircled his neck, she hoisted herself slightly up to his level and took his lips in hers.
Victor pulled her closer, one hand on the back of her head, glad to immerse his fingers in her hair once more, while the other rested on her back. He deepened their embrace, savoring the taste of her lips, the movement of her tongue, the sensual closeness of their bodies now glued to one another, her scent… oh, her scent! The scent of distilled summer roses, that was so characteristic of her. So intoxicating.
He gave in to her. He gave her everything she wanted in that moment. He let her possess him as he desperately wished this moment would never end, willing with all of his might to engrave it in his memory forever. Because he knew that she was looking for an answer he did not have. He also knew full well that in just a few more seconds, he will lose her forever.
She hesitantly broke away from him. She looked at him with eyes wide and he could tell she was bewildered. But she did not know whether it was because of her own audacity, or because of the unbearable heat she felt that ignited her whole body on fire and left a feeling of desire that seemed to throb between her legs.
Victor swallowed with difficulty. "Well?" he said, the sardonic glint returning, "Am I your Prince, then, Oscar?"