Breaking From Within
The protests weren't dying down.
For her own safety, Queen Eleonore decided to end her visit prematurely. Jacques and Manon had been horrified when she told them. Afraid of what this would mean for their kingdom. She assured them that she was still going to open full trade and sign the agreements they had reached, but she could longer linger and enjoy the city as a tourist.
"I have faith in what you can do here, but I can't remain any longer in case things get bad. And too often, things get bad before they get better," she told them sadly when they joined her for breakfast a few days later when it became apparent that things weren't calming down.
"You have to see to your own safety," Jacques agreed, not unhappy that she was looking after herself but angry that it was a necessity at all.
"You'll come back someday?" Manon asked, guilt eating at her for some reason. She had nothing to do with their choices or actions, but she was the reason they made them. She was the reason Queen Eleonore had to flee.
She understood too well now how her mother had felt before when an entire war had been waged over her life. Even knowing that nothing that happened was actually her fault didn't help ease the burn of the hot guilt that others now suffered because of her.
"So long as you two are on the throne, I will be back," Eleonore promised. "And I expect my next invitation to be the naming of your child."
Jacques smirked and Manon blushed, but neither of them countered her words.
She had to return, but none of them wanted it to seem like she was running. So, she agreed to stay long enough that they could throw her a proper farewell feast.
To make sure that everyone knew she definitely wasn't fleeing from the ever growing tension in the kingdom, they had an entire day of fun and activities devoted to her.
In the two days leading up to it, they finished all their work. Hammered out the last details of the treaties and negotiations. Signed everything necessary. Eleonore made a formal offering to the Sacellum to show her support for the changes they had brought, they offered her gifts to take back home to Lloegyr.
All the while, Manon worked together with Arnaud to organize the party and festivities for the queen's last day. She would be departing early the next morning, and three of them plus Cy and Felicie would have breakfast together one last time to see her off, but that was to be a more private affair. Cy and Felicie would be leaving with her as well and Manon was eager to make sure she said goodbye to her longtime friend and paladin.
She didn't often work with the palace steward, mostly because the elderly man seemed more comfortable with Jacques. He was obviously uneasy around Amorette and since Amorette was the head of Manon's personal guard, he often had to see them together.
Manon knew better than to think she could change everyone's mind. Especially older people that she knew tended to be stuck in their ways and thinking. As far as she was concerned, those people didn't have to like her paladin, but they did have to tolerate her presence and treat her with the same basic courtesy they would anyone else.
And since Arnaud did that much, she was able to overlook the odd glances he sent Amorette's way whenever she was there when Manon had to speak to him.
He was also very good at his job. They had already planned on having a feast for Queen Eleonore's departure, but it wasn't for two more weeks. Telling him that they were moving it up to three days away didn't even make him flinch. He frowned at the workload such a change would bring, but he worked diligently alongside Manon to see it done.
All the while, the traditionalists continued to make a loud nuisance of themselves out in front of the palace gates every day.
At least things had calmed down enough for them to start offering water and bread again. Though they very clearly were not appreciative of the offering, they were no longer overwhelming the stand or the soldiers sent to man it.
Moreover, there was a growing counter movement from the loyalists that were tired of hearing them yelling foul things day in and day out.
Jacques and Manon had released a statement assuring the people that Manon had nothing to do with the academy fire, that they were already investigating the culprit and had strong leads, and that the students and staff were to study and work at the palace until a new building could be created – the plans for which were already being drawn up.
However, their words meant nothing.
Those that had already decided her guilt pointed out that a guilty person would say exactly that and, if anything, the lack of arrests just proved that she had done it. After all, if they had leads, why hadn't they already followed them?
Those that were convinced of her innocence made the same argument that she had – which was that she was not dumb enough to burn down the academy in such an obvious way if she intended to blame others for it. Also, the fact that she had built the academy herself and was now providing a free space for the girls to continue learning should be proof enough.
It was apparently not.
It was further damning because now she was clearly covering her tracks.
Those that hated her were determined to see the worst of her, no matter what, and would contort their mind in any direction to make her the villain.
"Ignore them, your majesty," Arnaud told her when a particularly loud chant – calling for the true queen – echoed up past the gates and into the sitting room where the two of them were approving the hastily prepared menu for Queen Eleonore's last night.
"Rather difficult when they go on for all hours of the day and night," she sighed before giving him a tired smile. "But you're right. I really should be thanking you, Arnaud, for your continued loyalty despite everything."
"I would do anything for my king," he assured her, bowing his head. "Now then, the menu? Are sure you want to remove all fish options?"
"Our waters haven't had enough time to replenish their stock. I'm not going to serve fish for some time. You might as well let the chef know so he can stop offering."
Arnaud bowed his head as she approved of everything else, making only a few minor adjustments here and there for Eleonore's preferences.
That day was also the one she finally got a reply from her brother regarding Petrus Landebert and her plans for its future.
Out of respect for Laudine, the paladin that had haunted the abandoned city for the better part of a decade, he had asked her first if she would be all right with restoring it. The former king's death place was also her mental prison.
Laudine had given her approval to restore the city. She had been offered the chance to do it herself so she could know that the place was being respected, but she declined. Laudine was retired as a paladin and wanted nothing more than to live with her husband, the Sacellum Master of Vasconia, and to tend to the hearts of the people there.
Petrus Landebert was her prison, but no longer. They were free to restore or destroy the city however they saw fit and it wouldn't bother her.
Erec informed Manon that he had already put together a team to track down refugees that had fled the city in case they wanted to return as well as search for volunteers who wanted to move there. He told her that Sybille was having to work hard to refute the phantom rumors and assure everyone that the city was not, in fact, haunted, but that otherwise it was going well on his end. He was sending a group ahead to clean up the palace and the streets to prepare for their arrival and he was asking her to send her own people for the same purpose.
Petrus Landebert belonged to Vasconia, but like Antonin Pass, he wanted it to be a city made of both of their people.
She also needed to send people ahead to prepare the outside of the city on their side of the mountain. The city wasn't the only thing run down. Either side of the mountain where the tunnel emerged was similarly abandoned and overrun by nature.
It felt good to be planning that, even when she could hear the cries of the loyalists demanding either her resignation or death. It changed depending on how vicious the crowd was feeling during that particular hour.
She hired a sizable orchestra to drown them out during the farewell feast.
~~~~~~
"I don't know that I'd call the visit a failure," Jacques said a few days later as he held one arm around Manon's waist, watching as Queen Eleonore's belongings were brought aboard the ship.
"It was hardly a success," Eleonore countered on his other side.
"We finished all our negotiations and got everything signed. That's a victory to me," Manon replied back, firmly on Jacques' side with this.
They had to find whatever silver lining they could.
Eleonore grinned. "I'll admit, you two have the right attitude."
"My mom used to call it stubborn," Manon smirked.
Eleonore chuckled. "Negative traits are only negative in certain contexts."
The queen turned to face the two of them. Everything was ready, the engine was rumbling, her servants were all aboard. Cy and Felicie had already said their farewells and were waiting at the base of the gangplank to escort her majesty up. Eleonore was the only one they were waiting for. But she was in no rush to leave as she looked them over.
"I'm sad to have to take off so soon," she admitted. "I want to see you two succeed. Genuinely. For the good everyone."
"We won't let our people down," Jacques promised, his hand tightening on Manon's waist. "Change makes everyone nervous and, I'm sure, they were expecting everything to go right back to normal after the war. That it didn't probably disturbs them."
"That's part of it for sure. I know you two will do right by your kingdom. But that wasn't really what I mean. I was including the two of you in this hope. You're gambling with your lives. When the people become angry enough to overthrow their leaders, it is never peaceful. Jacques, you might be fine, but Manon will not be. Their anger will bubble over and burn bright and she will be the victim of their irrationality and mob mentality."
"I will not be fine," Jacques assured her. "The only way that is happening is if they're trampling over my dead body to get to her. And even then, I will have made sure that she is safe and away from here before I make my last stand."
"As if I would let you stand alone," Manon said, leaning into him. "If you're going to be fighting, my king, I will be fighting right there beside you."
Eleonore smiled between them. "If you must, I'm sure you both can seek asylum in Vasconia if it comes to that."
"It won't," Manon promised. "I'm not giving up on my kingdom."
Eleonore smiled approvingly and reached out, grabbing her by the shoulders. "You are a good queen. Regardless of what happens and what the bigoted people will say about you, don't forget that. They want to hate you and will find any reason to do so and refuse to see the good that you do. But don't give up on your hope for the rest. There will be people who see the hard work you do and your good intentions. Have faith in them."
Manon nodded once. "I will. I'm not going to give up on them. I've seen the consequences of their hatred and bigotry and I won't have that happen to another little girl."
Eleonore gave her an encouraging smile before turning to Jacques.
"And you. Don't loose sight of your queen or what you're doing. They're going to push back hard against her. If you weaken your stance, if you ever appear to not support her with all of your conviction and power, they will attack and won't let go."
Jacques bowed his head to her. "You are a wise woman indeed, your majesty." He lifted his eyes and stared hard back at her. "But you don't have reason to worry. Manon has my full support and, even if we disagree, I would never tell her this in public."
"Good." Eleonore looked at both of them. "You are young. And most young people are allowed mistakes. However, you are not. The task you have set yourselves means you can never trip or stumble. I want to help you. If you need advice, I have nearly two decades of ruling experience. I can't promise I will interfere. Most likely, I will not. I have my own kingdom to rule. But I will always give you advice if you ask."
They thanked her, then wished her a safe journey. She promised to return and promised to send them an invitation to Lloegyr when they could finally leave, they only had to alert her to that time. Then, with a final nod of her head, she boarded her ship.
Manon and Jacques stood together in silence, waving to Felicie and Cy at the railing, as the ship lifted from the docks and pulled out of the massive, open gates at the front of the indoor docks. Their own ship would be taking its place in only a few minutes.
But as it flew away, Manon and Jacques returned to their office. They didn't look back, but they did hold onto each other.
They had to consider the visit a victory, but it still felt like a defeat. The visit hadn't been as long, as relaxing, or as hopeful as they wanted. The yells of the traditionalists, which only seemed to get louder when the ship flew off, were muted only slightly by reaching their workspace.
"Are you all right?" Jacques asked when they were alone.
"Hm? Of course. Why do you ask?" She paused before sitting at her desk, almost surprised to see that he had followed her instead of going to his own.
"You've seemed down lately." He cocked his head, searching her face.
Manon forced a smile that even she could feel didn't reach her eyes. "Tired, I guess."
"Is that really all?"
She hesitated only a moment, reminding herself that she had promised to be honest with her husband, before finally admitting, "I guess, I can't help but feel guilty."
His expression hardened and she bought up a hand, stopping the tide of words that she saw coming before he even finished taking in a breath to refute her.
"I know. I know, it's stupid. And I know I'm not at fault."
Jacques crossed his arms. "I suppose, I should be grateful."
"Grateful?"
"That my queen is so devoted to her people that she would feel guilt for something that isn't remotely her fault." His eyes flashed. "Put it from your mind, Manon. When we catch Firmin, we'll reveal him and his conspirators to everyone. They will be silenced."
"You're right. I know you are." She sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. "I tell myself it's foolish, but I can't stop feeling it."
Jacques stared at her for a long minute, his features softening before she saw the certainty of a decision harden his gaze.
"Come on," he said suddenly, grabbing her hand and pulling her.
"Where are we going?" She asked, not fighting as he took her from the room.
He didn't answer but instead led her down the hall. He was walking fast, forcing her to nearly jog to keep up with him.
She figured it out soon enough when he pulled them through the door into their room, but her confusion only deepened. What were they doing back here? It was the middle of the day. If he wanted to have sex, they could have just locked the door to their office. They had done it multiple times before already.
"Jacques, I still have to-"
"No. You still have to nothing." He finally stopped, turning to face her, still holding her hand, a determined expression on his face. "You're tired. You need to rest."
"I need to finish setting up-"
"Nothing."
She frowned, giving him a doleful look. "Just because you interrupt me before I can say it doesn't mean it no longer has to be done."
"Manon, you're not going to accomplish anything if you're exhausted."
"I'm not exhausted, I'm just-
"Tired and feeling guilty because you're tired. If you weren't tired, you would be calling them fools and refusing to think of it." He brought her hands up and kissed them reverently. "And that's partially my fault. I keep grabbing at you in my eagerness to satisfy my own desires."
"I'm hardly reluctant," she grinned, closing the distance between them.
"Still. If I weren't so selfish, you might have more time to rest." He immediately grabbed her waist when she put her arms around his shoulders.
"I feel like I rest enough."
"And yet, you're feeling silly things because you're tired."
"Maybe you should make me feel other things." She circled her fingers around the nape of his neck. "I mean, you already dragged us all the way back here."
"I'm trying to be good right now and let you sleep," he said warningly.
"And I'm trying to be bad right now and convince you otherwise." She twisted her body against his. "We are already here."
"Wicked seductress," he whispered, focused on her lips.
"Is it working?" She stood up on her toes, reaching for him.
Instead of answering verbally, he growled as he jerked her up against him, taking the kiss she was teasing by force. She was laughing even as she returned it with equal enthusiasm.
The kiss was desperate and hungry, like they had been separated for weeks. The heat of it rushed through her, driving all thoughts from her mind and banishing the very fatigue he accused her of having. She would never be too tired for this. Not now that she had experienced the pleasure between a husband and his wife.
There was so much to do. There was always so much to do. But she just couldn't bring herself to want to stop. Would it be so wrong for them to claim a single selfish hour in their day? If it was, then Manon didn't particularly care if she was right.
At that moment, nothing else mattered by Jacques, the warmth of his embrace, the depth of his kiss, and the sweet oblivion from the worries that nagged at her all the rest of the day.
Jacques walked her backwards, through the door to their bedroom, then to the side of their bed. All the while pulling at the laces of her dress. Halfway there, it pooled onto the floor and both of them stepped right over it. Her chemise followed after. Then his shirt. Then his belt. Her hair pins. One thing after the other, littering the floor behind them, leaving the proof of their desire in an easy to follow trail right up to their bed.
She pulled herself onto the mattress as Jacques paused to remove his boots and trousers. She grinned, wiggling her booted feet at him.
Smirking, he kneeled down and let her rest her foot on his chest. He kissed the inside of her calf as he began pulling at the laces keeping the boots on. His fingers caressed her legs as he slipped the boot off and tossed it away. First one, then the other.
Manon sighed, her head falling back as he massaged her feet while kissing the inside of her knees. Maybe he was right: she was tired. But not in the sense that she needed more sleep. She needed the chance to just not work.
She needed this moment with Jacques. A real moment, not a stolen few moments in whatever room was nearest. They hadn't exactly put this one on the schedule, so they were sacrificing time for something else, but she needed it more than anything.
Reaching down, she grabbed his hair and pulled.
Jacques chuckled as she forced him upwards. He trailed his lips and tongue along the flesh that he passed until she pressed him against her breast. He obligingly suckled and massaged the soft, rounded flesh, not at all displeased with the new location.
Her knees were up, bent alongside his chest, practically hooked under his arms. Her heel pressed into his back as she undulated up against him.
Jacques had honestly not intended to do this. His intentions when he brought Manon here had been just to convince her to take the rest of the day off, if not all of tomorrow too. He told himself specifically that he wouldn't do this, in fact.
But then she had given him that look and his resolution blew away like dust in the wind.
He was still going to insist she take the day off, but he would have her first. A bit of shared pleasure couldn't hurt anything.
She had already commanded control over this joining. He allowed it without complaint – they tended to trade off who was dominant randomly, actively fighting for it sometimes. He rather liked the pull on his scalp as she directed his head where she wanted it. From her breasts, to her neck, to her lips, then back down again.
His lips and tongue were tools for her pleasure and he was a slave eager to use them.
"Now. Now," she finally begged, pulling his head up to kiss her again.
Jacques, obedient and eager for her, pushed inside her body in a single, smooth motion. She gasped, nails digging into his back.
She rocked her hips up against him.
She panted and ordered him to go fast. To go hard.
He didn't disappoint, thrusting eagerly. Not really chasing his pleasure, but focusing fully on hers. On giving her everything. If the only way he could get her to take a break was by leaving her completely sated and exhausted, then that was a sacrifice he was willing to make.
Focusing on her didn't mean he felt nothing, however.
He felt his approaching orgasm in the tightness in his back, in his groin. He groaned as she tightened around him. Trying to hold back. Trying to maintain his resolve.
He wasn't going to last. It was too good. She was too good. The heat of her. The grasp of her finger into his back. Her lips on his neck.
A roar broke from his throat at the same moment that she screamed, her entire body locking around him as they climaxed together.
"I love you," Jacques groaned, collapsing forward.
Manon, enjoying her peak, for a second, didn't hear what Jacques said.
The two of them lay together like that, wrapped up in each other, for a long minute as they caught their breath. She was slowly caressing his back, soothing the skin she had raked her nails along so harshly just moments ago.
Jacques laughed, kissing her shoulder.
And that was the moment she realized what he said.
Her hand stilled, but he was already sitting up. He smiled down at her, stroking his hand along her belly, his eyes full of affection.
"You are my greatest pleasure," he said, like he hadn't just confessed his love.
"Jacques..." She started, but had to stop. Unsure if she should say anything at all. But she couldn't not address it, right?
"Stay here," he ordered, some of his playfulness fading so she could see his seriousness, though his smile didn't drop. "Rest here for the day."
"That's hardly fair."
"Fair is just a word. You need a break." He winked. "And when I need a break, I promise, I'll let you bully me into taking one as well."
"But-"
"Rest." His voice was hard, uncompromising. "I'm not asking you. I'm telling you."
Her eyes narrowed. "As my king or as my husband?"
"Neither. As your friend and partner." He leaned over and kissed her sweetly. "You need a break. We all do."
Manon wanted to protest, but the look in his eyes promised her that he wasn't listening to anything she had to say. He had determined that she was taking a break, and nothing she could say would change his mind.
Gritting her teeth, she gave him a similar look in return. "Fine. I'll take the rest of the day off, if you take tomorrow off in return."
"Deal," he said immediately.
She narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously. That had been entirely too easy. "You are going to take tomorrow off."
"I would never dare to deny my wife." He kissed her again. "But you stay here and don't do anything for a full day, understand me?"
"You mean through tomorrow morning, don't you?" She asked, catching onto his meaning. She had technically worked this morning by seeing Queen Eleonore off. "That means your day off begins halfway through tomorrow and into the next day."
He nodded once. "We have a deal"
He pressed a kiss to her nose before pushing himself up. He immediately turned to begin gathering his discarded clothing. When Manon sat up to help him, he turned and shoved her back onto the bed, making her laugh.
"I believe I told you to rest," he said, pulling his trousers up over his hips. "I can dress myself. You, remain there. Don't even think about doing anything more tiring than walking to the toilet."
Manon stuck her tongue out at him.
He pretended to bite it in the air making her laugh.
She pulled herself up in the bed and covered her nude body with the blanket. She snuggled back into the pillows as she watched him dress. He kept giving her heated glances as he straightened his clothes and hair.
"Now, stay here," he leveled a finger at her. "When I return tonight, I better not see you having moved from this room. Got it?"
Manon blew him a kiss.
He pretended to bite it in the air again.
She was laughing as he left the room, casting one last glance back at her before he disappeared through the door. She heard him crossing the sitting room before the outer door closed as well, leaving her in blessed silence. Even the protesters were quieter again, as though the increase in energy after Eleonore left had drained them for a bit.
But now that he was gone, her smile faded and she thought about what he said.
He said that he loved her.
Did he mean that?
Manon may not have joined with a man in the carnal way before him, but even she wasn't naïve enough to believe that anything a man said in the heat of such things could be believed. She had been warned, even from a young age, that men might tell her anything to convince her that they loved her. Though she hadn't been the crown princess, she was still a princess and that status came with a great deal of wealth and power for whatever husband she would eventually claim.
She had also been warned that a man would say anything to take a woman to bed. That was more a lesson she had learned when she had been running a gambling ring and she had been around less than ideal men. It had been taught her by the other women she had run with as they were telling her that all men were worthless, none could be trusted, and the only reason to join with any of them was for the money and stability he could bring.
Luckily, Manon had never really bought into such pessimistic thinking. Her disinclination to marry had come more from a position of not wanting to settle for a man she cared nothing for than a general displeasure with life.
However, she had learned from the lesson. It was really the same lesson both times. Men could say anything to get what they wanted from a woman – be it love or sex.
But how did that rule apply when it was something shouted at the peak of pleasure? A moment that Manon knew Jacques to shout many random things. Most often curses, sometimes blasphemies, the occasional, wordless roar.
But never a declaration of love.
Was that legitimate? Or just something he yelled without thinking about it?
He hadn't seemed to pay any attention to the words. He acted completely normal afterwards, like it wasn't the first time he had confessed his love for her. Did that make it more or less genuine?
Was he upset she hadn't said it back? That she hadn't addressed it first? Was he just pretending that things were normal to save the awkwardness of bringing it up?
He was already her husband. He had nothing to gain by either giving or refusing her those words. She was his wife and queen and nothing short of abuse would change that. And even if he did raise her hand to her, at this point, she was more likely to raise her hand back. She had a kingdom to serve and wasn't going to let her marriage stop her.
Not like it would ever happen. He was good to her. Conscientious, kind, understanding. He wasn't the type of man to say something like 'I love you' and not mean it.
She should say something to him.
Should she have said it back to him?
Manon wiggled underneath the blanket as the question sank her stomach.
Did she love her husband?
She liked him. She would go so far as to say she liked him a great deal. He was her best friend. He played games with her in private but was a perfect king and public. She couldn't begin to doubt his desire for her and she would never question his devotion to their goals.
More than that though...
She loved making him laugh when they were playing their games. She loved knowing how much she could rely on him. She really loved how good of a man he was and how devoted he was to his kingdom.
A smile pulled at her lips as she played thoughtlessly with her hair.
He made her happy. In ways that she never imagined a person could be happy. When she used to think of marriage, it was always exactly as her marriage to him started. More of a business arrangement with a man that, at best, she got along with.
She never considered the heated desire that would run wild through her veins whenever he would give her that look. Or how eager she was to share her body with him. She trusted him with herself completely and where she thought there would be shyness or embarrassment, there was only the open enjoyment that they shared together.
Their love making could be hot and passionate, but more than that, it could be fun and silly. They would often find themselves laughing in the middle. The comfort of being with him was something she couldn't have even imagined before she had it.
Did she love her husband?
"Lord above, I think I love my husband," she whispered the confession into the quiet air, smiling at even the thought.
Unbidden, she started giggling.
A squeal broke from her as she began kicking at the air, making the blanket jump. She wasn't sure what the weird, wiggly spasm was, but the overwhelming energy that shot through her at even the thought demanded to break free.
It lasted only a second before she fell back. Still grinning.
She had to tell him.
The moment she had that thought though, her grin slipped away.
Oh, no. What if it was a fake confession brought about by his sexual peak? What if that's why he didn't bring it up? Because he didn't mean it? Because he didn't realize he said it?
That new worry ate at her for the rest of the afternoon.
~~~~~~
"Your majesty."
Jacques looked up from the reports he had been struggling to focus his eyes on long enough to read. He had to blink a few times to get them to focus on their new target instead: Arnaud, standing in the doorway, a tray in one hand.
Groaning, he sat back at his desk, rubbing his eyes. "What time is it?'
"Still early evening, my king. However, her majesty ordered that a tray of food be brought to you along with a stern reminder that just because she is not working does not mean you need to work yourself to exhaustion."
Jacques laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. It wasn't very late, but he had been at this for hours now and the strain of it was apparent. And he had a whole stack of more reports to read. From Saladin, from the various regions of the country, from Emilien...
The reports never ended, but, in a way, they were a good thing.
When they first started, getting reports had been a nightmare. The queen had been in no position to rule, the ruling council weren't concerned with anything but lining their own pockets, and Firmin had only been concerned about the war. The fact that everyone was finally reporting in to them meant that they had some control over their kingdom.
It was work, but it was good work.
He thanked Arnaud for the food that he sat down. The meal was still hot. It was probably right around suppertime. He had always eaten with Manon. When he hadn't shown up, she must have guessed that he had lost track of time and took measures to correct that.
Even when she was supposed to be resting, she was working.
But he took in a deep breath of the fried bread pudding, enjoying the aroma and the feelings he could feel delivered from Manon in them.
He hadn't meant to confess his love. It had just accidentally happened. But he didn't want to take the words back.
She hadn't responded, but she might not have even heard him. They had both been rather distracted at the time. He didn't regret his shout, but he did wish that he had chosen a better time to let those words slip free.
Did she think them disingenuous because it had been at the peak of his pleasure? Did she think them a slip of the tongue, unintentional and an exaggeration of his affections for a friend?
Couldn't be undone now, of course, but he would have to do something later to convince her of the seriousness of his ardor.
Because Jacques had fallen in love with his queen a long time ago.
He couldn't say exactly when it happened. Maybe, there wasn't a singular moment. Just the slow deepening of feelings until, as though it had snuck up on him, he realized just how important she had become in his life.
Jacques couldn't imagine opening his eyes in the morning and not seeing her. He couldn't imagine going to sleep without her in his arms. It seemed like they did everything together and he wondered now how he had ever accomplished anything alone.
Even at this moment, just in reading reports, he found it difficult to actually understand the words his eyes were traveling over. He kept thinking of Manon. Wondering if she would still be warm and naked when he returned to her. She had controlled their last liaison, now he wanted the chance to sit her on his shaft and make her bounce up and down. Make her work for his pleasure this time. After all, it was his turn to take a break tomorrow.
Not that he really wanted one. Despite the fact that he was having such a hard time focusing and he had accidentally worked through supper, he wasn't tired. At least, not in the way that Manon had been. The endless days of work weren't overly weighing on him.
Not that he didn't want a break and wouldn't take one if offered to him. But, really, he wanted to take that break with Manon. He couldn't imagine he would be able to relax if he knew she was working and he was not. Which was why he was already planning to disobey her order to relax tomorrow in order to get some smaller tasks done that he had been putting off.
He was a well raised Gasconite gentleman. He couldn't laze about while his wife worked. Making her relax while he worked was a completely different thing, of course.
Pretty soon, she wouldn't have a choice but to relax while he worked anyway. Might as well accustom her to it now. When she was heavy with his child, she was going to get tired more easily and he would become uncompromising about her resting.
Jacques grinned at the idea. Not at the displeasure he knew he would have to deal with when that day came - though, truly, he didn't mind that so much - but because the idea of her being rounded with his babe sent a pang of equal parts longing and pride through his chest.
Maybe even today...
They would have an idea soon enough when it came time for her to bleed again. They had been insatiable this last month though. He would be more surprised if their efforts hadn't born fruit. He knew it wasn't always so easy, but still...
"My king?"
Pulled roughly from his pleasant daydream, Jacques focused again on Arnaud who was giving him an odd look. He could still feel the silly grin on his face as he imagined walking with Manon as she waddled about, stroking her rounded belly, forcing her to rest because, yes, she was a queen and she had duties to attend to, but she also had their babe to worry over and he was more than capable of taking on more work as she assumed that new responsibility.
It was going to be a glorious fight, he just knew it.
But thinking of it had made him grin like a fool. And since he had not dismissed Arnaud, his palace steward was just standing there, giving him an odd look as he stared off into space, grinning as he got lost in his fantasies.
Clearing his throat, Jacques straightened himself in his sleep. "That will be all, Arnaud."
"Yes, your majesty." The elderly man bowed his head. "Do you have a return message for the queen? When she should expect you tonight?"
Jacques frowned at the stack of reports waiting for him. He had made a sizable dent in it over the last few hours, but he still had a lot left to go. And anything he left tonight, he had no doubt, Manon would take on tomorrow.
"Tell her that I said thanks for seeing to my well being, but she should go to bed before me. I still have some things to do."
"As you say, your majesty." Arnaud bowed properly before leaving.
Jacques turned his attention to his food and ate a few bites, letting his eyes rest for just a bit longer before he got back to the monotony of reading.
He hoped Manon did actually go to sleep without him. Though the morning was still hers and she would be able to sleep in, he didn't want her staying up too late since he didn't know how much longer this was going to take.
And he actually enjoyed the thought of going back to his rooms and waking her up by sliding between her legs and slipping his tongue...
Well, he really shouldn't let those thoughts cloud his head. Not when he was already having trouble focusing on his work.
Taking one more bite, he moved his food just out of the way but not out of reach as he grabbed for the reports he had been reading and started over again.
~~~~~~
Manon turned the page in her novel, tilting the book so she could catch the light of the fire a bit better as she relaxed further into the chair.
She hated to admit it, it felt too much like weakness, but Jacques had been right. She had needed this time to relax.
Instead of putting on her dress again, she instead tied a dressing gown around her body and relaxed into the loose fitting silk. Bare foot, she took a random book off a shelf, then curled up on the couch with her supper on a tray at her elbow. Hair undone, no weapons, no clothes. Just her and a book that was, apparently, a recounting of the reign of Jacques' great-great-grandfather on his mother's side. It was incredibly uninteresting as the king seemed to be both a dullard and a fool. There were no sweeping changes or great deeds done.
However, he was also, by all accounts, a perfectly nice man who had done his best to protect his kingdom, provide for his queen, and love his children. If Manon had to choose between an interesting, cruel man and a dull but kind one, she would choose the latter every time.
And despite how nothing of note ever happened in the book, it was still nice to read about a reign in which everyone was happy and content. It was in such contrast to the current times that she couldn't help but be drawn to it.
It also helped distract her from how late Jacques was tonight.
Arnaud had come to inform her that he would be, so it wasn't a surprise, but she wouldn't be able to go to sleep until he returned. Not just because she couldn't help but feel a tiny niggle of guilt that she was doing nothing, despite the fact that he was the one who told her to, but also because she knew she wasn't going to be able to sleep well without him. If at all.
So, she relaxed deeper into the sofa by the fire, enjoyed the warmth of the merrily crackling flames that was the only source of light, and sipped at the wine she had been served with her supper while reading about the uninteresting reign of a king who did nothing of note.
And it was a great evening.
It was around the description of his third born child - yet another boy, which the people celebrated as a sign of good fortune for the kingdom at large - that Manon began to think about her and Jacques' future children.
The book lowered as she chewed her lip, staring into the fire.
For all the efforts they were putting into making their heir, she hadn't actually given thought to the person it would be.
Did she want a boy or a girl? Would it have her eyes? Jacques' hair? Lord forbid, her penchant for trouble and his stubborn determination. Their combined blood could really produce a terror of a child if mixed just right.
Then again, it could also have her versatility, his goodness, their devotion. Their combination could make an incredible ruler or a dreadful tyrant. She supposed, that difference would be formed in how they raised him or her or them.
What if they had more than one?
They needed an heir, that was true, but there was nothing stopping them from having more. In fact, it would probably be smarter to have two at least. She greatly loved having a brother, and she knew Jacques would have liked more siblings. So, then, three? Maybe four?
The people in the histories praised this king for giving them three potential heirs. And it wasn't even his first or secondborn that ended up with the throne. It was the youngest who had been the one who actually wanted to take over.
Manon had no idea why she was so focused on comparing herself and Jacques to this long dead king when, realistically, they had nothing in common. Their reign was far from peaceful and prosperous - at least, not yet - and the people would definitely not celebrate if she gave birth to a boy tomorrow. They'd probably call her a bad mother from the moment he emerged.
Manon rested a hand down on her belly. Her monthlies had come, right on time, before. She was due to begin again soon. But maybe...?
A soft click behind had her turning to the door.
It was closed and there was no one inside. She tilted her head curiously, staring at it as though it might move, but it did not.
She swore she heard something.
Manon was too paranoid not to investigate. She set her book down and stood slowly, moving so she didn't make a sound. Though, this close to the fire, if someone had snuck into the room, they would have no problems seeing her, while she could easily lose them in the shadows.
Cautious, ears pricked for any further sound, she slowly crept through the sitting room. She had left her weapons in the bedroom where they had fallen after Jacques had ripped the sheaths off her in their combined effort to make it to the bed.
She should have brought at least one with her when she went to sit on the sofa. That was not a mistake she was going to make again.
Though, apparently, it was one that meant nothing this time. She looked through the drawing room and their bedroom but saw nothing. No proof that anyone had entered at all.
Frowning, she looked in the trunk at the foot of the bed, then under the bed. Nothing seemed to be out of place.
Maybe she hadn't heard something after all? Or if she had, it was just the random click of something hitting the night darkened window.
She stood straight, adjusting her dressing gown. She just needed to check the bathroom and she could call the sound innocuous.
Before she could turn, however, pain exploded in her scalp as she was suddenly jerked backwards so hard she was ripped right off her feet.
She fell, reaching back to grab her hair in an attempt to ease some of the pressure off it, even as she rolled on the ground, trying to look back.
The bathroom door was open, where it had been mostly closed before. Her attacker had been hiding within, just waiting for her to turn her back to the room.
And now that he had her sprawled out and helpless on the ground, he raised a dagger that shone in the pale moonlight over his head. Manon pulled harder on her hair but, unlike her body, her hair didn't have the ability to stretch and slide free. His grip was merciless.
He slammed the blade down.
Manon turned at the last second. Just a bit too late. The dagger missed her chest, but she felt it cut across her upper back.
She kept rolling, coming up on her knees, she jumped forward. Since he expected her to pull away, he wasn't ready for her to suddenly slam her head into his gut. He grunted as he fell back a couple steps, but he lost his grip on neither her head nor his dagger.
He swung it around to catch her again. She twisted, this time earning a cut up her arm instead of into her neck. Hot blood poured down her arm and her back, sticking the silk to her skin as he jerked her to the side, trying to gain control of her again.
He succeeded only in freeing one of her feet to kick right between his legs. It wasn't her best kick, but driving the point of her toes right into his sensitive manhood didn't need to be perfect or even all that hard.
He grunted, falling to his knees, but he still didn't release her or the knife. Not even when she kicked at his hand, trying to dislodge it and earning more cuts to her foot in the process.
Roaring his fury, he jerked her head up, then slammed it down. Pain burst in her head again, and again, and again. The last time, he kept her face down in the rug, blood pooling from her lips and nose, as he again prepared to stab her.
This time, she punched him in the groin, and she had a much better angle and far more force. His voice broke on his cry of pain and his grip on her hair finally loosened.
She finally wriggled free, her body effortlessly twisting and slipping through his wild grasp as he tried to focus through the white hot pain he must be feeling. Her training paid off. It was incredibly easy now, once her hair was free, for the rest of her body to slink out of his grasp.
She came up on her feet-
-then almost immediately lost her balance as the blows to her head left her reeling. She grabbed the best post to keep herself up as her eyes darted around for one of her daggers.
She found one just as he was struggling to his feet, discarded on the far side of the bed. Luckily, in the opposite direction of him.
She ran for it, just as he dove for her leg.
His ham sized fist caught her by the ankle and sent her sprawling. She gave a pained grunt as her torso took the brunt of the fall, both arms outstretched for her dagger. It remained, frustratingly, just barely out of reach.
She kicked towards his face with her free foot as he dragged her back. Then she remembered herself and, with just a bit of focus, pulled her foot out of his hold.
The unknown man made a punctuated sound of confusion as she scrambled forward for the dagger. This time, she was successful and, with a ringing slice, she ripped it from the sheath.
But he had recovered as well. She felt his full weight fall over her, shoving her into the ground. She grunted, but she didn't have any trouble breathing as he grabbed her wrist and slammed it to the ground, trying to get her to release the dagger.
She didn't know what happened to his weapon, but with his other hand, he grabbed her by the hair again and-
SLAM!
Manon heard something crunch in her nose that sent a blinding pain through her head. Her entire body spasmed as he ground her face into the rug, stealing away her dagger. He kept her face down as he lifted his body off of her.
Manon tried to move. Tried to pull herself free. But the pain and dizziness of the last head blow rendered her weak and unable to do more than start to pull her head down.
"Down with the false queen," the man growled over her, sensing his victory.
Manon tried to turn over, refusing to give up the fight.
When the lights burst on overhead, she thought, at first, it was death finally come for her. People spoke of a white light at the end, didn't they?
But the pain of life didn't fade and her eyes burned as they tried to adjust to the brightness.
Then, the roar of an angel.
Jacques.
~~~~~~
The reports could wait until morning.
That was the thought that had driven Jacques to abandon the last few and instead seek his bed. His queen in his bed. He would have plenty of time to finish them in the morning before Manon took over from him, so he could leave just a few undone.
It was a decision motivated almost entirely by selfishness and desire.
A decision that let him come into his room just as he heard an unknown male voice say, with all apparent triumph-
"Down with the false queen."
He didn't remember running across the sitting room, or slamming his hand on the switch that made all the oil lamps burst to life in the bedroom. But he would never forget the sight of the man straddling Manon's hips, holding her face to the ground, her blood staining her creamy, mussed dressing gown, the rug beneath them, and both of their bodies.
So much blood.
It filled his vision until red was the only thing he saw.
Once again, Jacques wasn't consciously aware of moving. He only knew that he was suddenly tackling the man who dared raise a blade to his wife. Both of them hit the ground and, distantly, he was aware of the clanging of the weapon as it flew away.
But he was too focused on slamming his fist, repeatedly, into the assailant's face to care. The man was trying to fight back against him, but unlike Manon, Jacques hadn't been caught by surprise. And while the attacker was bigger than Manon, Jacques was bigger than him.
Some part of him noted Manon weakly getting to her feet and stumbling past him to the door, calling out to their guards that would typically wait in the room beyond.
But he dismissed it. Just as he dismissed the pain in his fists from the hailstorm of blows he rained down and the man's weakening attempts to fight back.
He had hurt his wife. He had tried to kill her.
He would kill him.
"Your majesty!"
He grabbed the man's head and slammed it down against the ground, the thud of it a pleasant base to the roaring harmony of blood rushing through his ears. Once. Twice. Three times. Something cracked and the man's body spasmed.
"Your majesty!"
Arms hooked under his and jerked him back.
Jacques fought against the hold of whoever dared grab him, but he wasn't successful. Instead, he kicked at the prone, limp form of the man who dared put his hands on Manon until he was dragged out of range of that too.
Royal guards rushed forward, encircling the man.
Jacques' became slowly aware of the ache across his knuckles as he finally stopped resisting whoever was grabbing him. His breathing was harsh and his hands were shaking. The urge to continue beating the man until he was dead ate at him.
But before that...
"Where is Manon?" He asked, turning his head.
In doing so, he saw that it was Amorette who held him. The strongest paladin was holding him up by hooking her arms under his, keeping him off the ground and off his feet without any apparent strain on her part - despite her being at least a full head shorter than him.
When he caught her eye, she looked over to the side of the room. He followed her gaze and caught sight of his queen.
Manon had a guard standing over her, another kneeled in front of her, offering a towel for her bleeding nose. They had helped her to a chair. She looked woozy, her eyes unfocused.
"Release me, Amorette," he ordered, not taking his eyes from her.
Amorette looked at him carefully first, making sure he was all right, before she lowered him back to his feet.
"You should have Cupid look at those," she said, eyes focused on his fists.
He finally turned his gaze from Manon to his knuckles. One hand was swollen, both of them were bleeding. He wasn't completely unaccustomed to battle. He had fought for Ambraude during the siege that put him on the throne. Even now, his queen wasn't the only who did combat training. He couldn't allow his wife to be the only physically competent one.
That being said, when he practiced, he always had something to protect his fists. He did not this time and he could see where the man's teeth had cut his skin. His fingers were still clenched into fists and they ached to uncurl.
"Where is Cupid?" He asked, looking to Amorette. She was his wife, after all. He didn't care for himself at this moment, however. He was only concerned about Manon.
"A soldier is already on the way to get him," Amorette said.
He nodded once before stepping away from her, approaching Manon.
Getting closer made it obvious just how badly hurt she actually was. The blood, ironically enough, was doing a good job of hiding just how deeply she was injured, but he could see the cuts on her feet, on her arm, and her nose wouldn't stop bleeding.
Approaching, his anger only grew, but his demeanor got calmer.
"Manon," he called to her gently.
She lifted her head, breathing through her mouth as she held the towel to her face. It seemed to take a second to focus her eyes onto him.
Even before she succeeded, however, she was already raising her free hand to him. He took it and held it gently, close to his heart.
"Hey," she whispered weakly. "Thanks for coming."
Jacques forced a smile despite the rage rocking his chest. "I'm quite disappointed that I didn't receive an invitation to this party."
"Must have gotten lost in delivery," she replied, trying to smile but grimacing when it made her face hurt.
"Where is Cupid?" Jacques snapped, now annoyed that the royal physician wasn't immediately available the second Manon needed him.
One of the guards assured him that he was coming, but it wasn't fast enough. When the dirty blonde haired young man showed up, Jacques had to bite back the urge to growl at him. He knew, intellectually, that he had come as fast as he could – he was still in his sleeping clothes – but it was hard to tell himself that when Manon was hurting.
He stepped aside and let the physician close to her. While Cupid tended to his queen, Jacques finally turned his attention back to her attacker.
Since he had focused on Manon, the guard had bound his hands behind his back. Though it didn't appear to have been necessary as he was still completely limp on the ground. His face was bleeding sluggishly into the ruined rug. He appeared to be breathing, but he was unconscious.
Jacques wasn't sure if he was relieved or annoyed.
While it wouldn't be good for the king to literally beat a man to death, he wished desperately that he would have killed him.
He would die.
That wasn't in question. His execution was assured. But Jacques wouldn't get to wield the blade that took his head.
"Take him to the dungeons," he ordered the guard. "He gets no medical care. He's going to die at dawn. If he survives that long."
"Yes, sire," two guards replied instantly. They grabbed him under the arms and dragged him from the room, leaving a trail of blood behind as his feet slid on the ground. He was still unconscious and made no attempt to lift or move them.
Cupid was still working on Manon, so he called for servants to come clean the room, including taking away the rug. There was no way those stains would ever come out.
"How did he get in here?" He demanded to know, looking to the guards that had been securing the room.
"I didn't see," Manon answered as though he had spoken to her.
Cupid had wrapped the cuts on her foot and arm and was working on the one on her back – sewing it closed while she held the bloodied towel from her face to her nude torso. Her face had been mostly cleaned, but he could still see some red streaks where her blood hadn't been cleaned fully. Her nose wasn't bleeding, but bruises were forming around her eyes. Every time Cupid stuck her with his needle, she flinched. He had rubbed a poultice from his bag around the cut to numb the exposed flush, but it hadn't worked completely.
"I heard a click," Manon continued, licking at her busted lip. "I was in the sitting room. No one came in. When I checked the room, he came out of the bathroom."
Jacques turned to the guard, but two of them had already broken off to check.
"There are secret tunnels all throughout this palace," he said, frowning as he tried to remember where the one here might be. "They were originally intended to be escape routes in case of emergency. Most of them were sealed during my grandfather's generation though, after one of the servants' children got lost and nearly died in one of them. I thought all of them were sealed, in fact."
He frowned as the story came back to him. He barely remembered his father inquiring about them after one of the doors leading into those tunnels had been discovered when one of the servants was using the hidden hall to hide things he was planning on stealing. Jacques had been young, playing in his father's office because that was easier than dealing with his mother.
He growled, annoyed, struggling to remember what was said.
"Sire, we found it."
Pulled from his thoughts, he turned to the guards. It wasn't the ones in the bathroom that had called out to him. The guard who had spoken had been standing by the bookcase. A bookcase that, apparently, was hinged, and opened like a door.
Jacques hadn't even thought about that bookcase when he took over the royal suite. It was large, beautifully carved, and he just accepted its presence, only concerned with the books that weighed down the shelves.
The tunnel beyond it was dark and dusty, but there was a torch in a bucket of water in the corner and there were footsteps in the dust in the stairs that led to the door. It was a thin tunnel and led only to an equally thin, steep staircase. Nothing more than an escape tunnel.
"Summon a stonemason," he ordered. "I want that tunnel sealed. I want that door rendered immobile. I want it done at dawn."
"Yes, your majesty," one of the servants still cleaning the room bowed their head before rushing out to obey the command.
"Leave it open," Jacques said to the guard. "Find us a new room to sleep tonight. Check it thoroughly first, make sure there are no secret entries into it."
"Yes, your majesty," the guard nodded before gesturing to another guard. Both of them hurried after the servants.
Jacques turned back to Manon. Cupid had finished sewing her back and was now binding it with bandages and more poultice to keep the pain numbed. The smell was heavily medicinal but some of the pained fog had faded from Manon's face. She was more clear eyed when he approached, even offering a short smile that didn't make her wince.
"Are you all right, my queen?" He asked, gently stroking her jaw. Frowning at the dark bruising that was already appearing.
"Nothing a good rest won't fix." She smiled with only one side of her mouth, sparing the busted side from more movement. "Good thing I still have tomorrow off from our deal."
"Maybe we should bargain for a second day," he said, trying for playful in return but having trouble capturing the essence of it when he was still so angry.
"My king." Cupid was finished with her, his eyes now on Jacques' hands. "Let me bandage those for you."
"I'm fine."
"You're bleeding. If you cut your knuckles on his teeth, you need treatment. Bite wounds are very prone to infection."
Jacques hesitated, but Manon took his hand and offered it to Cupid. "I'm fine now. Let him tend to you too so we can go to bed."
Jacques chuckled but nodded, allowing Cupid to tend to him as well. Though he wasn't really in pain, he was sore and it felt good to have that ache numbed a bit.
By the time he finished with that, the servants and guards returned to tell him that one of the smaller rooms in the royal wing, usually meant for one of the royal children, had been checked, cleared, and prepared for them.
"Can you walk, my dear?" Jacques asked, looking at Manon. She hadn't made an attempt to rise from the chair since she was put into it.
Even now, he could see the disinterest in trying flash across her face even as she put her hands on the arms as though to make to stand.
Jacques didn't let her get further than that. Without a word, he sank down, slipped an arm under her knees and another around her back, then stood with her gathered against his chest. She made a sound like she might be starting to protest, but it died quickly.
That acquiescence to his carrying her told him more than anything else just how weakened Manon was by the attack. He didn't know exactly what happened yet and wouldn't pester her for the details until she was feeling better, but it had to be bad if she wasn't even putting forth a token protest that she could walk on her own.
The room that had been prepared for them was his childhood bedroom. A room that he knew intimately, every single corner and crevice. He knew none of the furniture hid any secrets because he had every piece replaced at least once during his tenure living there.
The bed was smaller than the royal suite, hastily made, but it was clean and comfortable and Manon barely winced when he laid her into it and pulled the blanket up over her battered body. He didn't care that she was most definitely staining the sheets with the blood that still hadn't been fully cleaned from her. She could be bathed properly in the morning.
For now, Cupid brought him a steaming mug of tea steeped with medicinal herbs to fight the pain, potential infection, and help her sleep. It smelled healthy and tasted terrible, but Manon downed it eagerly, without complaint. Another sign that she was hurting even more than she was letting on in that moment.
Once she finished the cup, Jacques helped her lie back in bed. He stood to order the guards to remain close tonight – it wouldn't be the first time they had needed to sleep directly under their watchful gaze – when a strange rumbling made him go quiet.
"What is that?" He asked, turning his head, trying to track the sound.
It almost sounded like... yelling?
"Your majesty!"
The guards caught a frantic servant before he could run inside the open door. Jacques waved him forward.
"What is it? What's happening?"
"It's the people, sir," he panted, pointing behind him like they were right at his heels. "They're at the gates. They've completely gone out of control. There's fighting in the streets and fire has already broken out."
"What?" Manon gasped from the bed, starting to push herself up.
Jacques put a hand to her shoulder, easing her back from the attempt. "Why? What happened?"
"Word got out already that the queen was attacked. I-I don't know who told who or how it spread so fast, but they started celebrating her death."
"They're celebrating?" Jacques growled, furious. "They think she is dead?!"
"No, they're not celebrating. They started, but then others started fighting them. They're all wearing purple. They're fighting each other. It's a madhouse out there."
Jacques started, sharing a surprised look with Manon.
Purple was the color that their supporters had adopted. It was the color of the rebellion that had resisted the war and his mother's rule. The color of those loyal to him and Manon.
The loyalists and traditionalists had finally come to blows.