We are family, after all
After the last few days of dinners and parties, and simply hosting so many people, Anne was exhausted, and glad to have some respite before it all started up again for the New Year's celebrations. She would have liked to have slept a little longer, but the Sun was rising and the baby had started giving her some feather-light kicks as if he wanted to remind her of what was to come in the new year. And so, giving up on trying to fall back asleep, she pulled herself up into a sitting position.
"Is it time for my favourite and least favourite part of the day?" Aramis asked, his face still half-buried in his pillow beside her.
"How so?" she replied, voice heavy with sleep.
"Because," he began, and groaning lightly, lifted himself up onto an elbow, "I get to see you in all your growing glory." Raising his other hand, he placed it on the top of her belly, pressing her chemise against her ribs to better see the outline of her bump. "But it also means that you have to go."
She brushed her fingers along his arm. "I wish I could stay."
"I'm going to start coming to your room so you don't have to make the trip to mine," he declared, taking his hand away.
She sighed and rubbed a hand across her expanding belly; she knew it would be getting harder and harder to climb in and out of bed with it. "It would be nice," she admitted. "Louis sleeps next door though." Louis was a deep sleeper, and would be getting his own wing in the palace once he turned seven, but she wasn't sure how much she wanted to risk him hearing something.
"Then you'll just have to be quieter when we're together," Aramis replied with a suggestive lift of his eyebrows and a cocky grin.
She turned onto her side, and ran a hand across his stomach. "Oh, I'll have to be quieter?" she questioned, and gave a self-satisfied smirk at the sound he made when her hand dipped past the waistband of his braies.
MMMMMMMMMM
"I gave Condé his new orders this morning," Aramis informed him and Constance as he grabbed an apple off his desk. After retrieving a small knife from one of the drawers, he half-sat on the corner of the desk and began cutting into the apple.
"How did he take it?" d'Artagnan asked.
"He questioned it," Aramis answered, and briefly paused to give the Queen an apple slice. She was sitting in his chair, which had his jacket draped on the back of it. Despite having witnessed their marriage, it was still hard for him to wrap his head around their relationship sometimes, to see Aramis act so casually around her.
"He definitely wasn't happy about it," Aramis continued, "but he also didn't want to admit to not being up to the task, and by the end he seemed eager to prove his prowess." He offered him and Constance, who was sitting next to him, a piece of apple, but they both declined, so he popped it into his mouth.
"So that's him out of the way, for now at least," said Constance, though he remained unsure about the decision, and worried that Aramis was thinking more with his heart than his head. "And aren't Madame and Mademoiselle departing tomorrow?"
"Yes, I offered for them to stay for New Year's, but the Duchess declined," the Queen told them. "I feel sorry for Mademoiselle, but I can't say I'm heartbroken about it; he tried to stay within the Duchess' cloud of perfume, but her man reeked of something like spoiled mushrooms or truffles gone bad."
"Did he?" Aramis questioned. "I didn't notice anything." He looked to Constance and him, and they both shook their heads.
"You aren't in a state where you're especially sensitive to smells," the Queen said, looking at Aramis with raised eyebrows.
Aramis glanced down at the Queen's hands where they rested on her belly. "True," he conceded, and handed her another slice.
"What's he doing around bad mushrooms though?" d'Artagnan wondered aloud. "They could be deadly."
"Or give you visions," added Constance.
"Or," began Aramis, raising his knife as he paused in thought, "they can just make you unwell for a time…agitated maybe, red in the face, give you headaches, as if…"
"Drunk," d'Artagnan finished, realizing what Aramis was thinking. "And Chavigny was sick in the bushes when I brought him outside."
"And by all accounts he hadn't been drinking much."
"Wait," said Constance. "You think Madame's man slipped some sort of poisonous mushroom into Chavigny's drink?"
"But why choose to publicly humiliate him like that? He was one of Gaston's old allies, one of their few friends at court," said the Queen.
"A friend who retained his position while Gaston was exiled, imprisoned, and ultimately killed," Aramis pointed out. "Madame could have wanted to humiliate him as a form of revenge or to even see him removed from the council. If he had said or done something worse, Your Majesty might have had to accept his resignation or expel him from court."
"That, and they might have also intended to begin a new campaign…" d'Artagnan began to say as he remembered exactly what Chavigny had said that night. "To get people talking about replacing Aramis or even Your Majesty with Condé."
Aramis' eyes narrowed before he turned to the Queen. "Perhaps you and I should let Madame know there's been a change to Condé's plans before we see her and Mademoiselle off."
The Queen nodded. "Milady has been following them ever since they arrived," she said. Aramis had told him that part of the reason the Duchess had been invited to Paris was so that they could be sure that the Duchess didn't suspect that they had a hand in Gaston's death. "We'll see what she's found out."
MMMMMMMMMM
"Madame and her man, Lenoir, they're having talks with the Spanish."
"What!" Anne exclaimed.
"They are planning a coup then?" Aramis questioned, leaning forward in the chair next to her.
Sitting across from them in what was usually Aramis' chair, Milady quirked an eyebrow. "A coup? No, they are looking to arrange a marriage between Mademoiselle and the governor of the Spanish Netherlands."
"My cousin Leopold?"
"Indeed."
"But why?"
Milady shrugged. "From what I could learn, Gaston initiated it. But consider the timing, Majesty; he was only pardoned just before his death, and Madame and her brood hadn't even been allowed into France until now. Why not look to Spain for his daughter's marriage prospects?"
"What about Chavigny and Condé? What's their part in it?
"Chavigny has none, at least not anymore," Milady answered. "The comte wouldn't support the endeavor."
"And so they chose to humiliate him," said Aramis. Taking his drink off the desk, he leaned back in his chair and took a sip before offering the glass to her. They shared one, whenever they'd have a nightly meeting with Milady, in order to avoid three used glasses being found in the morning.
She declined his offer, too concerned with these latest developments. "What about Condé?"
"I only heard them say that he had their offer," Milady replied.
She and Aramis exchanged worried glances. They had to get to the bottom of this.
MMMMMMMMMM
"Your Majesty, Minister, how kind of you to see us off."
"Where's the King?" Mademoiselle asked. The Duchess shot the girl a cold look, but Mademoiselle didn't see it.
"He's with his governess in his room," Anne replied sweetly. "Why don't you go and see him, I believe His Majesty has a gift for you."
Mademoiselle's face lit up at the prospect. "Yes, Your Majesty!" she said, quickly dipping into a curtsy before grabbing her governess' hand and leading the older woman out of the room.
"You can stay, Lenoir," he heard the Duchess say.
Aramis returned his gaze to the Duchess and saw her puzzled expression, surely suspicious as to why Louis hadn't simply come with the gift. His eyes then flickered over to Lenoir, skulking in the corner of the room. The raven-haired man had a sword at his hip, as well as a knife, and despite the two royal guards stationed at the door, Aramis was glad to feel the reassuring weight of his sword and pistol on his own belts.
"Has the Prince of Condé come yet to say his goodbyes?" Anne asked brightly.
"No, not yet," the Duchess replied.
"Then I gather you haven't heard of his new assignment?"
The Duchess eyed Anne warily but tried to keep her tone light, "No."
"Yes, he's been given orders to travel South, to Catalonia."
He watched the Duchess' face, but was disappointed, as well as confused, to see her features relax at the news that Condé would be going in the complete opposite direction of the Spanish Netherlands and beyond the farthest corner of the country.
"Oh," said the Duchess. "I will wish him well before we leave then."
"Yes, about that," began Anne. "With the both of us having lost our dear husbands, and our children each a father and uncle, I would like our families to be closer. And so, I've decided to move your family into the Luxembourg Palace," Anne stated. "As once intended by our mother-in-law," she added with a tight smile.
The Duchess' lips parted in surprise. He had been somewhat shocked as well when Anne had first told him her intentions; the Luxembourg Palace was just on the other side of the Seine.
"I'd like to see more of my nieces," Anne continued while the Duchess stared at her with wide eyes, "and Mademoiselle ought to become more familiar with the ways of court considering her age and rank, don't you agree?" Anne had posed it as a question, but it was not something the Duchess could actually deny, not unless she wanted her family to be completely exiled once more, or to see herself possibly arrested.
Aramis stepped forward. "You'll have to abandon your plans, but Her Majesty and I are confident we will be able to find all your daughters more suitable matches once they're introduced at court," he added. Anne's main reason for moving the Duchess and her household into Paris was to keep a closer watch on them and curtail further conspiracies, but she also wanted to help out Gaston's four young daughters. Gaston had all but abandoned Mademoiselle once he had permission to remarry the Duchess, and after the birth of each subsequent daughter, the Duchess would soon be with child again. Gaston had wanted sons of course, and had no interest in raising girls.
The Duchess looked at him with knitted eyebrows. "My plans?" she asked, looking confused.
"We know of your offer," said Anne. "You and Condé are trying to arrange a marriage for Mademoiselle with my cousin Leopold."
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lenoir tense, his eyes locked on his mistress. After a couple of seconds, the Duchess let out a sigh of relief and put a hand to her chest. "Oh," she breathed. "Oh, Your Majesty, certainly things have been misconstrued. My offer to the Prince concerned a possible marriage between my daughter Élisabeth and his son Henri."
"For Élisabeth?" Anne asked, sounding skeptical. If he remembered correctly, Élisabeth was the Duchess and Gaston's second child. What marriage aspirations did she have for her eldest daughter then? For her to marry Louis? He stole a glance over at Anne's stomach. If the baby is a boy, he will be the new Duke of Orléans. The Duchess had not been able to give Gaston an heir, but perhaps she hoped to bring the title back into the immediate family.
"Yes, it was really just an idea, they're only babies, and of course we would seek Your Majesty's blessing before making any formal agreement."
"Of course," Anne reiterated. "And what of Mademoiselle?"
"What of her?"
His patience was thinning with the Duchess' willfully ignorant act and so he cut in, "Were you trying to arrange a Spanish marriage for her?"
"A Spanish marriage?" the Duchess replied, once more obviously feigning surprise. "What an idea. Then again, our mother-in-law looked to Spain for the marriages of her two eldest children," she pointed out. "Why, it's how I have the honour of speaking to Your Majesty right now."
"Our countries were not at war at the time," Anne countered. "They are now, and conspiring with France's enemies in any capacity could be considered treason," she tersely stated.
"Well it's good then that I have no such aspirations for Mademoiselle."
"We know you and your man have been conducting talks," he said, though unfortunately they only had conversations overheard by Milady and no real proof that the Duchess was lying.
"Lenoir is not really mine, Minister. He is my husband's creature, hired to guard Mademoiselle," the Duchess informed them, talking as if Lenoir was not even there. Then again, Lenoir was acting like he wasn't there either.
"But not you?" Aramis asked, also skeptical.
"The girl is a grandchild of Henry IV, cousin to the new King, and heiress to her mother's immense fortune, she is a prime target for kidnappers. I, on the other hand, have very little value, especially now," the Duchess explained.
Anne glanced over at Lenoir, who was still standing by the wall and now staring at the Duchess. "You deny these talks ever taking place then?" she asked.
"Certainly on my part."
"And what of Chavigny's poisoning?"
"Chavigny was poisoned?" the Duchess asked, this time looking and sounding genuinely surprised. "When?"
"Christmas," Aramis answered. Turning to the guards, he gestured for them to come further into the room and then pointed down at the trunk Milady had told them the mushrooms were in. "Search it," he commanded.
"What?" the Duchess floundered as he was handed the small glass jar. Whipping her head towards Lenoir, she glowered at him.
He held up the jar as if to examine the contents. "Ah, Tippler's Bane, I believe? You know what's interesting about this particular inkcap? It really only affects a person if it's consumed with alcohol." He placed the jar on a nearby table. "I suppose Chavigny, or any of us for that matter, would never have suspected pieces of a poisonous mushroom to have been baked into a cake coming from a plate held by a little princess."
The Duchess rounded on Lenoir, her mask of ignorance finally shattering. "I knew you and that insolent girl were up to something that night!"
"Madame…" Lenoir uttered, opening his mouth for the first time as he took a step towards her, and the hairs on the back of Aramis' neck stood up. It sounded like a warning.
The Duchess looked to the guards at the door and pointed at Lenoir. "Arrest him! He poisoned the comte and has been conspiring with the Spanish!"
"You bitch!" Lenoir spat, and before the guards could take another step, he had his knife in one hand and had grabbed the Duchess with the other.
Everyone in the room froze as Lenoir held the blade to the Duchess' throat.
"Stay where you are!" he shouted. "And don't think I won't do it." He pressed the tip of the knife hard enough that a trickle of blood appeared on the Duchess' neck. He sneered as she whimpered, and lowered his voice when spoke into her ear, "I am the Duke's creature after all."
"Lenoir," said Aramis as he slowly held his hands up. "Please, don't do this."
"Think of the girls, don't make them orphans," Anne calmly pleaded.
"Mademoiselle is already an orphan," Lenoir retorted. He looked down at the Duchess. "You wanted the Spanish to take her off your hands, and Chavigny was too cowardly to see it through." He looked up at the rest of them. "But I'm not." He jerked his head towards the far corner of the room. "Over there, all of you," he instructed. "Now!"
Meeting Anne's eyes, Aramis nodded, and placed himself between her and the guards. Lenoir and the Duchess turned as they slowly made their way over, and then Lenoir began to walk backwards with his hostage.
"If I see any of you leave this room, I'll kill her," he threatened, and moved his knife to the Duchess' side before leading her out into the corridor.
As they listened to Lenoir and the Duchess's footsteps become distant, Anne's hand gripped his arm. "Aramis, if he intends to take Anne Marie…" she trailed off as he turned to face her, but she didn't need to finish, they all knew the girl had gone to see Louis.
He clasped her shoulders. "I'll go," he said, and with his eyes told her that he would protect their son. With a shuddering breath, Anne nodded, and he released his hold on her. "Stay with the Queen," he told the guards as he approached the door.
Cautiously, he peered around the doorway. Down one end of the hallway, he spotted Lenoir and the Duchess, Lenoir practically walking sideways behind her so he could still watch for anyone leaving the room. When Lenoir saw him, he stopped, and Aramis stepped away from the door. He pressed himself against the wall and let out a frustrated breath, itching to get out there and get to his son.
When he heard a small shriek followed by a crash and Lenoir's call for help, he looked back out into the hallway and saw the Duchess crying on the floor at the far end, and the broken vase she must have knocked over when Lenoir tossed her aside.
It was his signal to run.
Hurling himself through the doorway, he sprinted down the opposite end of the hallway, hoping to cut Lenoir off by using a different route. When he reached one of the entrances to the passageway he was familiar with, he ducked into it, and resumed his race to Louis. He was sure Lenoir meant to take Mademoiselle and either ransom her or take her to the Spanish, but he wasn't sure what the man would do with Louis if he got his hands on him.
After getting into Anne's bedroom, he looked past the open doors into Louis' room and was relieved to see the children playing with Louis' little jousting knights while their respective governesses chatted. His relief didn't last long though as he knew Lenoir might only be seconds away.
He forced a smile onto his face and tried to calm his breathing as he walked into the room, his eyes constantly flickering between its two doors and his ears straining for Lenoir's footsteps. "Marie?" With a nod of her head, Marie-Catherine excused herself and came over to him. "Lenoir is on his way, he means to kidnap Mademoiselle" he quickly whispered. "You must get the children away from here. Take them through the servant's passages."
Marie-Catherine's jaw dropped and she immediately went to turn but he grabbed her wrist. "Do not trust her," he added, unsure if Mademoiselle's governess had been in on any of Lenoir's plots.
Looking to the rest of the room's occupants, he announced that the Queen had sent him ahead to bid they all go down to the throne room for one more gift. Marie-Catherine quickly began to usher the children into Anne's room, and in the opposite direction of Lenoir. Mademoiselle's governess followed suit, and Aramis brought up the rear, closing the doors behind them before running over to hide behind the open door that Lenoir would most likely come through.
He had mere seconds before he heard someone's hurried footsteps coming down the hallway, though they slowed as they approached the room.
"Mademoiselle," Lenoir called out as he strode into the room, stopping short when he realized it was empty.
Drawing his sword, Aramis pushed the door over, and Lenoir spun around at the sound.
"Where is she?" Lenoir asked, knife raised and poised to attack.
He stepped forward, backing Lenoir further into the room, near the end of Louis' bed. "It's over, Lenoir."
Transferring his knife to his left hand, Lenoir drew his sword. "Where is she?" he repeated.
He and Lenoir circled each other. "The Queen and I will see that she's taken care of."
"More so than the Spanish would have?" Reaching out, Lenoir gave Aramis' sword a teasing tap. "Tell me, will you have her marry your little bastard king to make his court less of a farce? Is that why you want her?"
Aramis' stomach dropped. "It's what she wants though, isn't it?" he asked, trying to keep his composure. "To one day be Queen of France?"
"She's a child, she doesn't know what's best for her."
"And Mademoiselle's governess, will she do what's best for her?" He needed to know if Louis was still in danger. "Was she a part of your plans?"
Lenoir scoffed. "And risk that daft old woman blabbering about them to someone? You must think me as stupid as the old king." He went to tap Aramis' sword again, but Aramis ducked his blade this time, and swatted Lenoir's sword away with a backhanded flick of his wrist.
Lenoir raised his eyebrows at the move, and gave him a pleased grin. "The Duke told me of the rumours Feron had heard about Her Majesty, and how he'd seen you and her together...He didn't think she'd actually debase herself and share a soldier's bed, but he didn't live to see this," Lenoir continued, moving his knife up and down at Aramis. "I wonder if the next one will want to be like his father too." Lenoir's eyes pointed over to Louis' pauldron where it laid on the chaise longue next to his sword and shield. He flashed a grin, clearly relishing his teasing and taunting. "Gaston never intended to let the boy live long enough to marry and sire an heir, but he certainly wouldn't have tolerated a bastard on his throne for one moment."
Aramis tightly gripped the handle of his sword, thinking back to when Gaston had come in here, looking for Louis, and wished he had killed the man when he had the chance. And if Gaston hadn't seen the decoys, maybe Grimaud wouldn't have gotten his hands on Louis, and Treville would still be alive.
He wasn't going to make the same mistake.
Charging Lenoir, they finally engaged in a real duel, one with the aim to kill. Their swords rang as they deflected strike after strike. Lenoir was not only quick and calculating, but also had the advantage of a parrying knife, and Aramis was soon on the defensive. Retreating, the back of his legs hit the table behind him as Lenoir's sword arced down. He brought his sword up to catch it, and while their hilts were locked together, Lenoir thrust his knife at him, right towards his side wound. Aramis managed to grab his hand and push it away before it could pierce him though, and then allowed himself to fall back onto the table. He knocked over some of Louis' toy soldiers when he did, and several of the figurines were now digging into his back, but he was then able to bring his legs up and push Lenoir away with both feet.
Lenoir stumbled backwards, and tripping over one of Louis' small jousting knights that had been left on the floor, fell onto his back, his sword flying from his hand and landing in the corner of the room. Aramis pushed off the table and got back on his feet, kicking the toy out of the way as he advanced on Lenoir. The other man quickly scrambled to his own feet and stood half-crouching, knife still in his hand.
"The Duke did have his doubts though when it came to his brother fathering a healthy son," Lenoir admitted. "So many years had passed since that first runt. He would have thanked you for proving his brother to be both a fool and a failure before he had you all executed and your heads put on spikes."
Aramis raised his sword and brought it down with a roar, but instead of raising his knife to try and deflect the blow as Aramis expected though, Lenoir turned and grabbed the top of Louis' little writing desk. Picking it up, he used the underside to block Aramis' sword, and the blade caught the edge of the desk, hitting it with enough force to embed itself into the wood.
Voices could be heard coming down the hall, along with heavy boots. The guards were coming.
Before Aramis could tell Lenoir to surrender, Lenoir drove forward with the desk, running him backwards before pushing him onto the end of the chaise longue along with the desk. Aramis threw it aside, sword still lodged in it, while Lenoir jumped onto the half table in front of the nearest window. He went to grab his pistol, but then saw Lenoir pull his arm back, preparing to throw his knife.
Abandoning the pistol, he lunged for Louis' toy shield where it laid on the chaise longue next to him and held it in front of his face at the last second, the tip of the blade breaking through the thin wood but stopping an inch from his nose.
Tossing the shield aside, he was finally able to get ahold of his pistol just as Lenoir kicked the window open. He began to aim but Lenoir jumped before he could pull the trigger. Pushing himself off the chaise longue, he ran over and dove onto the table before crawling onto the windowsill.
He spotted Lenoir as he came out of a roll. The man looked back, and seeing him at the window, quickly got to his feet and started running towards the hedges.
Aramis could not let him get away; not after what he'd done, not after what he'd tried to do, not after telling him what he knew.
Dropping to his stomach, he rested the barrel of his pistol on his forearm, allowed the tip of the gun to lead Lenoir as he ran, and squeezed the trigger.
Lenoir took two more steps after being hit before collapsing onto the ground where he remained unmoving. Closing his eyes, Aramis let his head drop, and sent up a prayer of thanks and forgiveness.
He rolled over into a sitting position as guards burst into the room seconds later, followed by Anne and the Duchess. "What happened?" Anne asked, looking around at the room. "Did he escape?"
He shook his head. "No."
"Where are the children?"
"On their way to the throne room," he answered, and clipped his pistol back onto his belt.
Anne put a hand to her stomach as she sighed in relief before turning to two of the guards. "Will you please help him down?" she wearily commanded.
The two handed their halberds to the other pair of guards before coming over and moving the table away from the window so he could get down more easily.
"Are you all right?" Anne asked softy once he was standing before her.
He nodded, and then they both turned to watch the Duchess step over to the chaise longue and bend over to pick something up.
"Your Majesty," said the Duchess, her back still to them. "You have my word I will not set foot outside the Luxembourg unless you command it." She turned around then, and in her shaking hands was Louis' shield, Lenoir's knife still embedded in it.
MMMMMMMMMM
Anne was sitting at her desk with the chair turned sideways when he arrived at her room that night. They had all pretended to be crushed after they informed Milady of the change in their sleeping arrangements, and how their evening meetings to keep up their ruse would become even more sporadic, but right now Aramis felt like he was in one of his dreams; coming in after a long days work to settle into bed with his wife, only in his dreams he didn't use a secret door.
"I'll be done in a minute," she told him, rubbing her hands over her arms.
"Is Louis asleep?" he whispered.
"Fast asleep," she assured him. "I checked on him a short while ago."
Walking over to her, he could increasingly smell the scent of lavender before spotting the glass bottle on the desk. "Ah, so this is the secret to your youthful looks."
She smiled wryly. "Promise you won't tell. The rumors about how I tend to my hands are far more interesting than the truth."
"Yes, it's quite disappointing to find out you don't bathe them in pig's blood."
"People don't actually believe that, do they?" Anne asked, slightly alarmed.
Aramis held up the bottle for closer inspection. Lavender and almond oil. "No," he answered, shaking his head. "They just think you wrap them at night in raw meat."
Anne rolled her eyes good-naturedly at his teasing. "Why don't you put those big hands of yours to use and help me finish." She gathered the end of her chemise and pulled it up over her belly.
He bowed with a hand over his heart. "It would be an honour, Majesty." After spreading some onto his hands, he proceeded to get down on one knee and massage the oil into her skin.
"The baby wants me to tell you that he's very pleased with your handiwork," said Anne once he was all done and had pulled her chemise back over her belly.
"He is, is he?"
"He thinks it should be a new duty of yours."
"I accept, and from this night on, I shall endeavor to carry out this sacred duty." He touched his hand back to his heart and then held it out to Anne. "To bed, Madame? I'd carry you but I think you might be a bit slippery now."
Helping her up, he walked her to the side of the bed closest to Louis' room and then went to his side. After pulling back the heavy duvet, he laid under the sheet, leaned back against the pillows, and closed his eyes. "Mhm" he sighed, sinking further into the bed.
"Comfortable?"
"Your bed is so soft, it feels like I'm on a cloud."
"I do have my sheets laundered a few extra times," Anne admitted, leaning an arm onto her pillows and resting her head against her hand. "One of my indulgences."
He turned his head to look at her. "Well I'm never going to spend another night in my bed now. How could you bear leaving this for that?"
She shrugged her shoulder. "Because you were there. Besides, you still have very fine linens. I picked them out myself."
With a hum, he turned his head forward. "We are going to have to close the curtains though," he stated, bringing his gaze back over to her.
"Why is that? No one should walk in on us unannounced, and Louis will just call for me or his governess if he needs something, which is itself unlikely. Like I said, he sleeps like a rock."
"And I'm of a mind to test that claim, but not with the late King and Queen of Spain watching us." He pointed his eyes over to the life-size portraits of Anne's parents hanging on the far wall. "Your father looks like he's ready to throw down a gauntlet and challenge me to a duel for debauching his daughter."
Anne gave an amused smile and shook her head as she looked over at the portraits. "It's not my father you should be worried about."
He followed her gaze back over to the portrait of her mother. "Of course, it is the women in your family who are the most fearsome."
Turning onto her knees, Anne came over and climbed onto his lap, straddling his thighs. "You think I'm fearsome?" she asked as she looked down on him, the amused smile still on her face.
Taking each of her hands in his so that they were palm-to-palm, he threaded their fingers together. "Fearsome, formidable, powerful." He felt like the luckiest man in the world, being able to see her like this; confident, bold, alluring, but also teasing and playful.
"And are my parents' portraits still unsettling you?"
"What portraits?" he answered, his eyes locked on hers, and with a smirk and then a roll of her hips she started his ascent past the clouds and into Heaven.
Historical background/inspiration:
-The Luxembourg Palace was passed from Marie de Medici to Gaston upon her death, then from Gaston to Marguerite when he died.
-Gaston and Marguerite had five children, including a son, but only the three eldest girls survived childhood. Condé's son and heir, Henri Jules, who was five years younger than Louis XIV, was considered as a match for Élisabeth, Marguerite's second eldest daughter, but they ended up marrying different people.
-"On one particularly dramatic occasion, the queen and Mazarin were interrogating Mademoiselle concerning an alleged plot by one of her servants to arrange a marriage between her and Archduke Leopold, the governor of the Spanish Netherlands. This would have been a very serious matter if true, necessarily entailing secret understandings between Gaston of Orléans and the Spanish enemy. Mademoiselle denied any knowledge of such a plan, saying her servant must be mad but that she herself was not. She may well have been telling the truth. To make certain of it, however, Anne tried to draw her out by appealing to her sense of loyalty to her servant: 'What a pretty thing-here is a person who is attached to your service and by way of reward, you put his head on the scaffold!'" -Ruth Kleinman, Anne of Austria
-"Although on his deathbed Louis XIII at last recognized the marriage, Madame was not permitted to enter France until after the king's death. She received a warm enough welcome, but no sooner had she settled into the Orléans residence in the Luxembourg palace than she developed what seems to have been agoraphobia. She hardly ever left the palace and only very rarely managed to pay even a ceremonial visit to the queen" -Ruth Kleinman, Anne of Austria
-Anne "had always been painstakingly fastidious about her person, insistent on cleanliness and so delicate about fabrics that touched her skin that she could not bear ordinary linen. Her shifts and sheets had to be made of the finest batiste, laundered several times to soften them before she would use them" -Ruth Kleinman, Anne of Austria