Versailles: The King's brother

Chapter 8: A Volume From a Burning Monastery

Philippe

They could be heard all around the palace; spears and ornamented tridents banging the polished floors with their hilts. Upon sight of Philippe, guards banged their spears harsher than those before and behind him, some even offering the slightest of nods. Trailed by his wife, who feverishly attempted to keep up with his pace through her uplifted satin and silk skirts; two small heeled feet could be seen scurrying under her garments. He paid no mind to her, aside from the passionate kiss of greeting shared back on the battlefield in a display of good faith and thriving martial status, Philippe easily shut out his wife and her clover tasting lips and made a bee-line for the only person who truly mattered in his life.
The doors to his chambers swung open via the guards, revealing a nonchalant Chevalier perched on a reading desk, quietly picking for dirt under his fingernails. When the quick, keen eyes of his lover met his own he had presumed his heart had stopped, fortunately, it was only the beating of spears on hardwood. Doors now closed, Chevalier swung his feet off of the reading desk and offered Philippe a sly, "Welcome home."
Philippe wanted to take him then and there. Grabbing for each other's faces, the two embraced in a more than passionate kiss, followed by another, then another. Suddenly, Philippe remembered his wife. Despite their lack of intimacy and overall love, Philippe knew better than to disgrace her more than she already felt. Henriette had always treated him fairly and upheld their facade of love in sight of others, and it was because of this he understood that making her watch was not something she deserved.
'She deserves a real husband', he thought solemnly to himself.
Breaking their kiss, Philippe pulled away and grabbed for air. Chevalier looked at him hungrily and began leaning in for more when Philippe brought out a small, leather bound novel in between their lips. " I brought you a gift", he whispered," its a book."
Taking it into his hands, Chevalier examined it with little interest. "I'd never have guessed", he responded coolly.
"I rescued it from a burning monastery", Philippe began pouring himself a glass of wine, "A volume of sacred anthems  written by men of chastity. Naturally, I thought of you." Chevalier scoffed, "You know me so well." Opening the book, he grazed through the pages, "Someone scribbled in it, on every page", he announced, analyzing the roman-esque markings lining the top right of every sheet. Philippe glanced over at Henriette, who had at some point sat herself on the velvet bench nearest the window. She watched the gardens outside, a bored look plastered on her alabaster skin.
"Then give it back. You shall have no present!", Philippe teased, gliding back into the bedchamber room.
"Here", Chevalier turned and tossed the book at Henriette, who caught it angrily in her hands, "Have a psalm."
***
Now alone, the two hungrily began stripping each other's clothes from their bodies. "I have been waiting months for this", Chevalier said, shoving Philippe on the sheets covering their luxe feather bed before pouncing on him. Philippe felt the blood pulsating within his groin grow stronger as the two licked the insides of each other's mouths through ragged breaths and involuntary moans. "Lies! You wait for no one", Philippe scolded as he exchanged bottom positions with his lover.
Now was his chance, he thought to himself, to show his lover what war was, what it had made of him; a ruthless, hungry, reckless wildling with insatiable appetites for whatever suited his fancy. He would release his anger and frustrations into this shared moment, unleash his true feeling of that damned treaty into hours of lovemaking, and his lover would accept his troubles and frustrations wether he wanted them or not. If Chevalier wanted to replace the duties of his wife and should-be-lover  Henriette, he would need to see them fulfilled and serve his husband the way he lawfully should.
'He will enjoy this side of me', Philippe thought through his clouded euphoria of sex.
Now on top, Philippe pinned Chevalier against the bed with the weight of his body. Chevalier, confused, squirmed rigorously, " What on earth has gotten into you?"
"That is the interesting thing about war. You learn so much about yourself", Philippe began, "Do you know what I discovered on the line, my sweet Chevalier? When the enemy attacked, when the fighting was close and urgent and the blood was flowing bright and red?" Chevalier grunted helplessly, the flush in his face growing brighter the more he wriggled to escape only to be restrained by Philippe.
"In the glorious moments nearest my death, my heart would thunder. And my breeches would grow tight. Because the sword inside them was hard and full like a baby's arm clenching his fist. Can you imagine? Being in the middle of a battle and your prick is set to burst? I never knew a Scotsman, but now I know what a sporran's really for."
Chevalier had had enough, "Let me be!", he roared, throwing Philippe to his side and rushing to his feet. Breathless and hot, he examined the person who sat watching him regain his posterity with a smirk on his face. Whoever this was, it was not Philippe. And try as he might he could not convince himself that it still was.
Chevalier stormed out of the room to find Henriette still sitting quietly on the bench reading the book he had unkindly thrown at her, her round eyes looked up at them both, confused. Placing himself in the same corner of the room where Henriette resided, all three instantly resumed their original character as a cleaning servant walked in. Chevalier fixed his hair, Henriette continued to read, and Philippe sipped at his summer wine.
Suddenly, Philippe whistled at her, to which she shot at attention. Both Henriette and Chevalier exchanged nervous glances from the corners of their eyes. "You ever tasted champagne before?", he asked," You may be about to", he finished.
Raising his hands in surrender, Philippe re-entered the bedchamber after the servant girl had, leaving them both with ajar mouths.
"Honestly, I don't know what you see in him", Chevalier said to Henriette before exiting the room entirely.
Philippe wasn't going to let them win, he would have his welcome home whether it come from them or no. Turning to face the servant girl, he offered her two silver coins in exchange for her services. Reluctantly, she lifted the woolen skirts to her dress and spread her legs.

[Written August 9th, 2018]