Old Allies
For the trial of the traitorous, former palace steward Arnaud Amedee, Jacques and Manon came in full regalia. Gown and crown and aloof disdain as they sat on their matching thrones - one ancient and passed down through the ages and one brand new, made to exactly match the other. Manon was sitting on the former, Jacques on the latter.
They kept their thrones close, the arms flush, so they could hold each other's hands. A show of solidarity and strength.
The throne room was full today. The court filled with onlookers. Mostly old nobility, but more than a few new ones. They had come to gawk and see what was going to happen to such a high ranked, dangerous traitor.
Arnaud had never lifted a blade to Manon, but he had gotten closer than anyone to killing her. They all knew he was going to die, they just wanted to see how it would happen.
Some of them had come into the large room chatting and laughing and carousing. Like this was a fun day at the fair. Jacques and Manon had put a stop to it immediately. It didn't matter if it was a moment of victory over an enemy. They refused to allow such a solemn occasion to be marked with amusement at the death of another.
So now, instead, it was silent and grim as the doors opened and two palace guards escorted the old man into the room. He had manacled on his wrists and ankles and the soldiers had to hold him up by the arms as he was without his cane.
But despite that, he walked forward with all the confidence his aged, stooped body could manage. His eyes were forward, looking right at them, refusing to lower them in reverence. Undisguised and unmasked hatred burned in his expression when he looked at her in particular.
Jacques and Manon met his gaze evenly as he was stopped before them.
"State the charges," Jacques ordered, his voice echoing powerfully in the quiet room.
The recorder cleared his throat, as though to quiet the silent room before declaring loudly, reading off an official sheaf of parchment-
"Arnaud Amadee, former palace steward, sworn servant to their majesties King Jacques Urbain and Queen Manon Urbain, you are brought before their majesties now accused of the crimes of conspiracy to assassinate a member of the royal family and treason."
"What have you to say for yourself?" Jacques asked, his tone even and calm.
Arnaud held his head high, his lips curled in a sneer. "Though I have done everything I am accused of, I am not guilty of treason."
"How do you figure that?"
"There is no one more loyal to the royal family than I! I practically helped raise you, your majesty. I bleed and live and breathe and die for my country."
"Yet, you would kill my queen?"
Arnaud spat on the ground, causing titters of disapproval to break out amongst the nobility. "She is no queen. She is a whore!"
Manon felt Jacques' grip tighten in hers, just slightly, but it was the only outward sign he gave that he was affected by the insult.
"So, you do not deny sending multiple people to kill your queen? Providing them the means and opportunity to do so?"
"I deny it." Arnaud scoffed. "She is not a queen. She is a false idol! A seductress that has blinded you to her evil!"
"People always think I'm so much more interesting than I am," Manon sighed sadly.
"Don't say that, dearest," Jacques stroked the back of her hand with his thumb. "I find you to be very seductive."
Manon had to fight back a laugh. This was hardly the time. But the fury that blazed in Arnaud's eyes at their casual dismissal pleased her. Though it was a solemn occasion and she would treat it as thus, her face was still bruised and ached under the heavy layer of makeup concealing the dark colors and her sympathy was therefore very low.
"Your father would be so ashamed if he could see you, boy," Arnaud sneered, obviously unamused by their careless dismissal of him.
"Is that what you think?" Jacques asked, his voice pleasant and all the more dangerous for it. "You think my father, a prince of Vasconia, would want me to allow my wife, his niece, to be killed or disrespected in his kingdom?"
"Darling, when you say it like that, it sounds weird," Manon said, giving him a look.
He paused to think over her words before nodding his head once in concession. "When said that way, you're right, it does sound odd."
"You mean incestuous!" Arnaud hissed, saying the word they very deliberately weren't.
The nobles looked between them and him, eyes wide - she honestly couldn't tell if they were enjoying or dreading the show. Manon grimaced.
"There's really no way to defend our marriage without sounding like an excuse, is there?" She asked, looking at Jacques.
He shrugged, unconcerned. "I have no familial affection for you beyond that of my wife and we do not share blood. I see no problem with this."
"No one believes that lie!" Arnaud yelled over him. "You are the king's legitimate son, but this whore has seduced you into unnatural pleasures."
"You know, when he says it like that," Jacques started, grinning at her, "it sounds kind of intriguing, doesn't it?"
"Focus, my king," Manon said easily, not looking away from their prisoner.
Arnaud was fuming, glaring at both of them.
Jacques waved his hand, banishing the conversation. "There's no more need to discuss this. You have admitted to your crimes."
"It is no crime to depose a despot!"
"The punishment for treason and attempting assassination on the royal family is death," Jacques continued as though he hadn't spoken. "You will be beheaded at sunset. Have you any final words you wish to be heard?"
Arnaud was laughing now and, not for the first time since hearing about his capture, Manon felt a chill go down her spine.
"Yes, I have final words," he snarled. "I have words that will be spoken!"
"Speak them then," Jacques frowned.
Manon wanted to tell him no. Every instinct in her body screamed that this was a bad idea. He was way too excited for this chance to speak. For this chance for his words to be recorded for the sake of record and history.
"My final words are this!" He pulled against the soldiers that still held him up, his strength not even enough to jostle them. "I am loyal to my country! Devoted to my Lord! I may have done the things of which I was accused, but that does not make me guilty, nor does it make them a crime. What I've done is for the sake of the people. For the good of Gascony!"
Jacques shook his head, ready to dismiss him, but Arnaud continued.
"I die today for my country! I die for the sake of my king! I die for the chance to speak and be heard by everyone! Let all who tread this soil know, let them heed my warning, I know the truth of you, false queen!" He leveled a finger at her.
Manon's heart stopped in her chest. It was the first time he had addressed her directly, the first time he had actually looked directly in her eyes and not at Jacques. There was more than hatred in his eyes now. There was victory and triumph and a threat that set her nerves on edge.
"Take him away," Jacques ordered, sensing the same danger.
It was too late.
"You are an unnatural!" He roared, fighting back against the soldiers that pull against him. "I've seen your wicked powers, false queen!"
The air was sucked out of the room as the entire gathered crowd of nobles took in a breath of shock, now staring at her. It was a terrible accusation – in Gascony – and nothing Manon could think to say would make things better.
Arnaud wasn't done.
"I was there that night in the bath! I saw him attack you and I saw you slip away. I saw your body bend in impossible ways!"
"Get him out!" Jacques roared, getting to his feet, his anger making it worse. There was nothing Manon could do.
And Arnaud wouldn't stop.
"You had him killed before he could make the accusation! Before he could reveal your truth to the guards! But you can't silence me! I know! Unnatural whore! Evil seductress! I know! I saw what you did! You cannot hide any longer!"
He continued to shout vitriol and insults as he was pulled from the chamber. His sentence had already been handed down.
But the damage had been done.
The nobles were whispering together now, shooting her uneasy looks. The servants in the hall were suddenly pulling away. The royal guards were too well trained to move from their positions, but she could feel their eyes on her.
No matter how liberal and forward thinking the people they made sure were around them were, they were still native Gasconites. The accusation of unnaturality in a woman was the sort of thing that could ruin her life.
And Manon was been so unprepared for her secret to come out, she didn't have anything that she could think to say. So she said nothing.
And she knew, even as she sat there, Jacques still standing, glaring at the doors through which Arnaud had been dragged, that it was the wrong choice.
But that still didn't help her think of any words. Nor did the whispers and stares of her servants and guards and subjects that only got louder the longer she sat there, still saying nothing, while Jacques glared out at them.
~~~~~~
"Well, that could have gone better," Lea said, sitting down beside Manon, both of them staring out through the wide window of her private sitting room.
Amorette was there too, as well as Jacques and Emilien.
They were doing damage control.
"I don't think it could have gone worse," Manon sighed, her body slumping forward.
"No one threw rocks."
"There were no rocks to throw."
"See? Silver lining."
Manon laughed, but the sound was hard and choked.
It was impossible to prevent the spread of what Arnaud had yelled. His execution was in a few scant hours, but already his final message to the world was burning its way through the palace and out into the city. There was no doubt in Manon's that, by tonight, the majority of Ambraude would hear of it.
And it wasn't good.
Amorette, Lea, and Felicie had already made themselves places here. Felicie had made a lot of friends, Lea had earned the respect of the military through Emilien, and Amorette's faultless politeness and upbeat personality and strange innocence made it hard for anyone to dislike her.
But Lea and Felicie were foreign ambassadors, so dealing with them already had a bit of distance between the people and their paladin status. As for Amorette, well her sweet and non-confrontational personality meant that even if people were rude to her, she didn't care. No one was willing to actually attack her because she was too strong and thus not an enemy anyone wanted to have. She also didn't tend to actually socialize all that much. She spent all her time either with the royal guard – who were the most liberal and loyal of their guard – or with Cupid, her husband.
But Manon was queen. She was meant to represent, protect, and lead the Gascony people. The same people who reviled such women.
It was one thing to accept, as guests, paladins from a foreign country, it was another, forbidden thing altogether for it to be their queen.
Amorette and Emilien were working together to make sure that, with the truth of her abilities circulating amongst the population, she remained safe. They had to watch and check every single servant and guard.
Though they had all been thoroughly screened for traditionalist sympathies, none of them had been screened for their feelings on paladins. Or unnaturals, as the Gasconites called them. There wasn't a neutral term for what she was yet either. Either a holy warrior sworn to a foreign power or a monster deserving of death. There was no in between.
"It's not so bad," Lea said, probably reading that very thought on her face.
Manon just gave her a look.
Lea laughed. "It's bad. I didn't say it wasn't. But being a paladin means being willing and ready and, most importantly, able to handle tough situations."
"My entire kingdom could turn against me for this," Manon said, her voice strained. "They hated me when the worst they thought I did was seduce their king into giving me political power. They've tried to burn down their own city just because I changed the color of the damn military uniform, and I wasn't even the one who did that. Do you think there is even the slightest chance that finding out I'm a paladin won't tempt them into pushing the castle itself into the sea?"
Lea shrugged. "I don't know."
"Yeah. That's what I thought."
"But what I do know, is that you are a paladin, Manon." Lea took hold of her hand, squeezing it reassuringly. "And we are empowered to face the challenges that will come our way. We are driven to fulfill our destinies and find fulfillment in that. You were born to be the queen of Gascony, and you were given the power and drive and ability to do it. Have faith in the Lord, Manon, but more importantly, have faith in yourself. Maybe they will push the castle into the sea, but trust that you will be able to cling to the cliffs and climb back up."
A shadow fell over them. Manon raised her eyes to see Jacques frowning down at her. Saddened by her own reaction.
"My dear," he said, stroking her cheek then taking hold of her chin. "Don't be afraid of what will come."
"Even if it burns our city down?"
"We can always rebuild from ashes. We can restore anything lost or broken. They will be shocked. They'll be angry. But you will always have me with you."
Manon tried to smile, but even she felt how pained it looked. Jacques sat on her other side and put his arm around her shoulders, pulling her in close. Lea got the hint and stood, stepping back into the room to help Amorette and Emilien. The two of them weren't alone, and nor would they be again until they knew their guard were still loyal, but it was as close as they could get.
"You're not a paladin," Jacques said after a long moment.
"I know," she said, defeated.
He rubbed her arm. "You're not unnatural, either."
She smiled a bit. "I know."
"You are my wife and my queen. That will not change, no matter what they do or think. We will weather this storm together."
"Arnaud got what he wanted. His plan worked perfectly."
"We don't know that yet. Unless the city really does burn to the ground, we don't know if his attempt at sabotage was successful." Jacques leaned over and kissed her temple lovingly. "And it wasn't his plan anyway."
"No?"
"No." His expression darkened. "This was almost certainly Firmin's work. He would feel no qualms at all about sending an old man to die to strike a blow at us. He just happened to find an old man equally fanatical."
Manon couldn't argue with that.
The two of them said nothing, staring forward out the window as their guards talked behind them. Not really ignoring their efforts, but just taking a quiet moment together to gather their strength and prepare for what was to come.
As the sun began to set in the sky, the two of them, guarded by Emilien and Amorette, went together to the execution grounds.
The outdoor dais at the center of the shaded courtyard within the palace was simple, blank stone. The ground was only dirt, the surrounding walls free of adornment. There were thrones so that Jacques and Manon could oversee the proceedings, but otherwise the area was unadorned and plain. Solemn and serious, as befitting the purpose it served.
Jacques and Manon were the last ones to arrive, coming to sit on their thrones, still holding hands. If anything, Jacques held her hand tighter in a show of solidarity. He helped her sit down, because he was a gentleman, before taking his own seat, still not releasing her hand.
Before them, on a dais that was lower than theirs, Arnaud was already on his knees before the executioner's block. Nobles surrounded him, having come to watch. They were all men, none of the ladies choosing to witness such violence.
All of them were staring at Manon, not Arnaud.
The old man, still in shackles, but now changed into a plain pair of trousers and tunic, was smirking despite kneeling before the executioner. Two soldiers stood guard over him.
The entire courtyard was silent. Waiting.
"Have you any final words?" Jacques asked. There was no harm in it. Arnaud had already spoken his dangerous piece.
"I die under the reign of the false queen!" He said, holding his head as high as he could despite his aged spine. "I die in the name of Gascony, knowing that there is no greater honor. I have no regrets but that I was not successful in taking her life."
Jacques did not react violently this time. He nodded, accepting his words without comment before gesturing to the executioner.
The hooded man got into place, lifting his ax to his shoulder.
"May the Lord be merciful on your soul," Jacques said formally.
Arnaud was pushed over the block.
The ax was raised.
A single swing.
A hard thud.
Arnaud's head fell into the basket waiting below.
There were no cheers. No sign of relief. The entire area remained tense as every eye watched, not the execution, but Manon's reaction to it. Like they were expecting her to derive some sort of sick pleasure from the moment.
In fact, it wouldn't surprise her if that's exactly what they expected.
Manon remained unmoved. Her expression aloof but firm. She deliberately had nothing to do with the sentencing or ordering of this execution. Not that it meant much since the entire kingdom was convinced she had Jacques ensorcelled.
But she truly did not enjoy this part of her job.
It wasn't the first execution she had witnessed. She dearly hoped that it wouldn't be the last either. She wanted to see Firmin take his turn someday soon. Not because she wanted him dead, but because she wanted her kingdom and her people safe. However, that was it. She wanted no more from this.
No part of her enjoyed watching their deaths. She hated seeing Arnaud's head and body tossed into a coffin as the executioner cleaned his blade. It didn't even feel like a victory over an enemy. It felt like the death of a helpless old man, and even knowing that helpless old man had orchestrated her attempted assassination multiple times didn't make it easier to bear.
But she couldn't leave either.
Everyone had come to watch her. Too see how she reacted. To judge her in this moment in the light of knowing what she was.
She could not be too eager, but nor could she be too dismissive. Though she was already well and truly done with this moment, she had to wait until Jacques stood to be able to leave. Which, thankfully, wasn't too much longer.
But she could still feel the stares and whispers directed at her back as the two of them returned to the palace.
"One more enemy gone," Jacques said, his voice steel.
"Yet, it doesn't feel like a victory," Manon sighed.
Jacques didn't respond for a moment before shaking his head and pulling on her hand. "Come. We have much more work to do today."
They hadn't before. After an execution, they would usually make sure that the other was okay, they took a moment to recover before going back to work.
But not today.
Not in light of what Arnaud revealed.
They started with Moise.
Their new palace steward, fierce, shrewd woman that she was, had questions. And a lot of them. Sharp and direct and demanding answers to each one directly from Manon. She had been raised to think unnaturals were unholy, evil creatures her entire life that had corrupted their souls and turned from the Lord in order to gain dark powers.
But she had also been taught her whole life that, while women could work in certain positions, they had to be unmarried, unsullied, and could never dream of attaining so lofty a position as palace steward. She should either be content with her lot in life or marry and surrender the job that brought her such fulfillment.
Manon was the one who offered her more and, though she might be unnatural, in a way, Moise was as well and she wasn't going to let that cloud her judgment.
It took about an hour to answer all of her questions, but they eventually finished and she became one of those they trusted.
After her, it was the royal guard. If they couldn't trust them to keep them safe, then they were starting from a bad place already.
Those were easier than Moise. They already knew Amorette, after all, and no one with any sense in his head could meet Amorette and think there was any darkness in her. The very idea was laughable.
After their guard, they had to address their personal servants.
Manon's lady's maids, of course, already knew. Their own status as empowered women was still being kept secret though. Manon offered to let them out of her service if they wished to put some distance between them now for their own safety.
All of them declined. Nellie even suggested that she would be open to people knowing about her power as well. To ease the shock of Manon's revelation. The two older women were less keen on anyone knowing - especially Bidaude who wasn't actually empowered at all - but they refused to leave Manon's side and would stay as a show of support.
They already knew that coming back to Gascony could be dangerous. It was a danger that they were willing to face.
Jacques' manservant was a bit more weary but as he already knew Manon rather well, he eventually came around to the opinion that he would rather have an unnatural on his side and peace in the kingdom than have them as enemies again.
The other servants that took care of them had a range of reactions. Some seemed to take the same stance as Jacques' manservant. A couple were outright fascinated and wanted to learn more. Some were all right with it at face value.
Only two decided that they couldn't continue to work for an unnatural and left.
By the time Jacques and Manon had finished interviewing and answering questions of those closest to them, it was late into the night. Manon was having trouble keeping her eyes open and Jacques was having to pace to avoid going to sleep.
"Your majesties, please, go to bed," Moise begged them. "I can handle everything from here. You don't have to worry about any of the others."
Jacques stopped his sluggish pacing and shared a look with Manon. "My dear, you can-"
"Jacques, if you finish that sentence, I will throw my teacup at your head," she promised without prying open her heavy lids.
He chuckled, his offer for her to go to bed and leave him to continue working by himself dying before he spoke it. She glared, almost offended that he would even try.
"Please, your majesty," Moise said, bowing specifically to Jacques. "You've done enough. Those closest to you have been vetted. Leave the rest of the palace to me and Emilien."
Jacques hesitated only a moment more before nodding.
"Very well, Moise. I'll leave..."
He frowned, his voice trailing off. Manon opened her mouth to ask what was wrong, when she stopped because she heard it as well.
A loud, achingly familiar rumbling.
There was another riot outside the gates.
Their fatigue fully banished in the wave of fear and unease.
They were both up and rushing from the room in an instant, the others hot on their heels as they raced through the palace halls. They didn't have to go all the way outside, they only had to ascend a single floor and find a large window that looked out over the city. The window was located in a long hallway in one of the highest levels and offered a beautiful view of the city, and more importantly, allowed them to see beyond the high wall.
It was late. Full dark.
That made the fires burning beyond the walls that much more intimidating.
It wasn't the buildings on fire – not yet, anyway. Instead, it was the streets that were flooded with individually bobbing flames. Torches, carried by an angry mob, lighting up the streets with a river of flames fanned by fury.
And there could be no doubt what was the cause this time.
Manon let out a shaky breath, her hands fisting in her skirt.
Jacques growled, his fist slamming against the wall by the window. "Emile!"
"I'm on it," the general assured him, turning to job down the hall.
Manon bit her lip, holding back a moan of pain.
She wasn't fully successful and Jacques growled his anger.
"You two should get some rest," Lea said, trying to get their attention from the window. "There's nothing you can do for now. Let Emile and I handle calming things down."
"My citizens are rioting," Jacques snarled, glaring at her. "You think I'll be able to sleep knowing that they're doing this."
"Honestly, there's nothing you can do. If anything, seeing either of you might just make the people angrier," she said calmly. "Leave it to your military. Emile and I have been planning for something like this. Let us follow our own plans."
"You know this was going to happen?" Manon asked, grimacing. How was it that Emilien and Lea could see this coming and she hadn't even considered what she might say in the face of the accusation that started this?
"We figured it was a possibility," Lea shrugged like it meant nothing. "And it didn't really change our plans. We had already been working to get the soldiers used to me and what I could do. Making sure to promote those who were friendly to me over others. They'll be surprised, but they're already used to me, so they'll get used to you. And no matter what, you can count on the fact that they'll be loyal to Jacques."
Jacques finally turned from the window, searching Manon's face. She couldn't bring herself to lift her eyes to his.
"Trust me," Lea said, smiling between them. "You're going to have a lot of work tomorrow anyway. Let us calm this down. If we need you, I promise, we'll wake you."
Neither of them spoke for a long moment. Manon moved first, raising her eyes. Jacques was looking at her, patient and waiting. Willing to do whatever she thought was best.
And though she wanted to do something, she had to concede that Lea was right. Putting herself out there would only make them angrier. It would put her in danger and, because she was in danger, her husband and loyal guard would also be in danger.
She nodded. "We'll rest. Just promise that you'll wake us at dawn. There's a lot that is going to have to be done."
Jacques finally tore his gaze from Manon and turned to Lea as well. "If Gosse or any of the rebel leaders come, wake me immediately."
Lea nodded in agreement. Then, she and Amorette escorted them back to their room. Their newly screened guards, those still loyal to them, were standing by the door. The two, burly men had hard, determined looks on their faces. They must know the extra danger that Manon had put them in and they were facing it bravely.
The moment she was closed safely back in their room, she let out a stuttered breath as she collapsed into one of the sofas.
Jacques came and sat down beside her.
"My love, are you okay?" He asked softly.
The question pulled a strangled laugh from her throat.
Finally, he called her 'love' beyond the peak of sex and it was for something like this. Was a moment she was on the verge of breaking down any more believable than the height of pleasure?
And she couldn't believe that was her concern right now.
"Jacques," she gave him a desperate look. "Are we... doing the right thing?"
He frowned. "What do you mean?"
"If the people truly hate me so much... If they're so eager for my death, are we really doing right by them?"
"How can you ask that?" He looked shocked. "Manon, yes. Everything we've done, everything we're doing, is for the people!"
"An unwanted gift is not a gift but a burden."
"And a child throwing a tantrum over eating his vegetables doesn't know he's actively harming himself in his refusal."
She laughed sadly. "Did you just compare our population to children throwing a tantrum?"
"Absolutely." His gaze hardened. "Nothing we've done, Manon, has had wicked intent or results. What have we done? We purged corruption in the church. We've advanced the rights of women. We've put laws in place to protect empowered women. We changed the color of our military. Is any of that worthy of death? Is that tyranny?"
"But if it's not what they want..."
"Their fury is built on lies and anger and fear." He took hold of her hands. "They have Firmin feeding their darkest emotions. You are not evil, you did not seduce me or control me, and you are not trying to bring ruin to the kingdom. They have been fooled by a madman who doesn't care what harm he causes as long as he gets what he wants."
"I know you're right. I know that, but..."
"No 'but'." Jacques reached up and gently stroked her face. "Put it from your mind, Manon. Don't let him have this victory over you."
Manon sighed and stood, stepping forward. Jacques didn't even hesitate to follow. From here, they could still hear the loud cries of their people. Calling for her death, she had no doubt. Were there even any loyalists among them? Or had they turned from her and Jacques completely now that they knew the truth?
It felt wrong to prepare for sleep. Like this night was normal. But it was late and she was exhausted and she knew that she could do nothing and had to be rested for tomorrow.
Jacques got into bed first then immediately held out his arms for her. She wearily climbed into both. Leaning against his chest, taking comfort from his presence.
"It will be okay," he promised, kissing the top of her head. "I'm going to make it okay."
And, somehow, that was actually calming to hear.
"I couldn't have done this without you, Jacques," she whispered into his chest. Not because it was a secret, but because the words were too tender to break the air.
"You would be a marvelous queen, even without me."
"No." She lifted her head, looking him right in the eye. "I may be competent and a hard worker, but none of that would matter if I didn't have support. Your support makes all the difference. I would be worthless without you."
Jacques smiled softly, pushing her hair back from her face. "I could say the same about you. I may have the support of the people, but I could never have had the will to enact all these great changes despite so much opposition. I would have given up long before now."
She laughed. "I highly doubt that."
"No, really. I'm a people pleaser," his gaze heated as he looked her over. "You're strong enough to weather this hatred. I would have folded beneath it already."
"I'm only strong because I have you though."
He grinned. "Shall we agree that we're better together then?"
"That seems like a very fair compromise," she nodded sagely.
She pulled herself up, giving him a sweet kiss that very quickly turned deep and desperate – driven by the wild energy outside of the palace. Wanting to erase it from the back of their minds. Hoping to distract themselves from it.
Jacques grabbed her hips as she tossed a leg over his waist, straddling him as she held his face, their tongues entwining and dancing together. She couldn't drown out the sounds of a nation calling for her death for the crime of her birth, but she could distract herself with her husband. She could take some small pleasure in his arms.
His rough hands were there on her thighs, pushing up her nightgown. Grabbing her by the hips, grinding her down against his pelvis, making her moan with want.
The hard knocking on the front room door brought them to a halt.
Manon cursed, her forehead dropped to his chest.
He sighed, moving her from his lap. "Rest, my love. I'll deal with it."
He said it again!
But before she could focus on that, he was already up and grabbing his dressing gown. She had to throw off blanket and jumped up, snatching her own dressing gown, rushing to follow after.
"You are not dealing with this without me," she said, right on his heels.
Jacques grinned back at her as he stopped in front of the door. "It was worth a try."
She glowered at him right until he opened the door, revealing Moise on the other side. Their palace steward had an apologetic look on her face as she bowed her head.
"Forgive the intrusion your majesties," she started immediately.
But Jacques was already waving her words away. "You wouldn't be here if it weren't important. What happened?
"You said to wake you if your compatriots came and they are here."
Manon started in surprise. "Already? So quickly."
Jacques' jaw tightened, his gaze hardened. "Very well. We'll see them now."
Still in their dressing gowns and night clothes, they followed Moise to one of the larger meeting rooms a few floors below. The room was filled with men, most of them younger. Manon recognized Ferrand – Emilien's brother-in-law and Jacques' second-in-command when he had been directly leading the rebel forces. He was a well dressed, nondescript, sandy blonde haired young man who, at the moment, had a hard scowl on his face.
Manon didn't know if it was bad or good that he only briefly glanced at her before focusing back on Jacques.
Since he had been Jacques' second-in-command – sent home after Jacques took the throne to live with his wife and young son – he was automatically the one the others let speak.
"Jacques..." He paused, then shook his head. "Sorry. My king-"
"Jacques," he corrected firmly, taking his friend by the shoulder. "Ferrand, you and I have been close for years. That does not change now."
The corner of Ferrand's mouth lifted, but it wasn't a true smile and it didn't reach his eyes.
"Jacques, is it true? What they're saying?"
Jacques' hand fell away. He didn't pretend he didn't know what he was talking about. "It changes nothing."
"How can you say that?" Ferrand looked aghast, his mouth hanging open. "Changes nothing? Jacques, this changes everything!"
Jacques very deliberately stepped between him and Manon. "She is still my queen. You all agreed that our marriage was a smart decision."
"Yes, but that was before this!"
"What does this change? She is still the same person. She still made the same decisions that, before this day, you fully agreed with. Emile's opinion of her has not changed. Your brother-in-law does not care about her powers and I know you respect him. So, then, why should her abilities intimidate you whatsoever?"
"What?" Ferrand looked confused. "I'm not talking about the queen being... er, one of those women with powers. I mean, only tangentially."
Jacques and Manon shared a look, equally confused.
They turned back and, this time, it was Manon who addressed him.
"Ferrand, what are you talking about?"
He frowned between them. "I'm talking about the rumors. They're saying you're a paladin sworn to a foreign king and that you're trying to conquer Gascony from within."
"What?!" Jacques and Manon yelled at the same time.
Ferrand's brow furrowed. "You... You haven't heard? It's all anyone is talking about in the city. That the queen is secretly a paladin trying to destroy Gascony by making it a territory of Vasconia. Or even subsuming it completely."
"No!" Manon shook her head, baffled. "That's not... I'm not a paladin."
"But you are, er, unnatural. Aren't you?" Ferrand pressed.
"She is not," Jacques growled, angered at the accusation. "She is empowered, but she is not vowed as a paladin. She's certainly not working for Vasconia."
Ferrand looked between them again for a moment, searching their expressions, before finally the tension eased from his shoulders and a small smile pulled at his lips.
"I knew it couldn't be true. But they were all saying it down in the city and the rumors were just going absolutely insane. I had to check to be sure."
Jacques huffed out a sharp breath, shaking his head. "This is ridiculous. Who would possibly believe such a lie?"
"Traditionalists looking for any reason to hate our queen." Ferrand sent her a smile. "I'm sorry. It is a foul accusation, I know, but everyone is saying it and the rioters are saying they have to defend Ambraude from your hostile takeover and... It's just a real mess."
Manon nodded. "I understand, and I'm grateful you were willing to hear our side."
"Of course," he chuckled. "Why would I not?"
"And it doesn't bother you?" She gave him a searching look. "That I'm... empowered.?"
Ferrand kind of shrugged. "My new sister-in-law is a paladin, and she is a perfectly kind woman who is proud to wear Emile's coat and strong enough to stand beside him. I admire her strength and devotion and I see her love for Emile and I know my love for Ann matches it. If I were to judge you for such a thing, I'm sure both of them would be highly disappointed in me."
"And you all?" Jacques asked, looking out over the others. Some of them still seemed suspicious, but there was palpable relief just in seeing their honest, shocked reactions at hearing the newest rumor that was going around.
"You are our king," one of the older ones said, bowing his head. "We all heard when you made the deal with her majesty. We know there was no deception or seduction involved. Your marriage is one of convenience for power and peace. We know that full well."
Manon grimaced. She didn't particularly enjoy being called a wicked seductress, but at least the title came with some amount of desire. It made their marriage seem like more than a business arrangement. And though she knew it was arranged between them, the feelings she had for him now made the cold start seem heartless.
Though she didn't say anything, and she removed the expression from her face as quickly as it came because it was truth, Jacques still reflexively reached out and put his arm around her waist. Giving her comforting without thinking about it or even turning from his friends and allies as they described to them what they had seen in the city on their way here.
Though it was late, approaching midnight if it hadn't already passed, the entirety of Ambraude was awake, the city lit up like the dawn from the torch fire. People were out in the streets. Most of them were angry, afraid, certain that Manon really did mean to destroy them all. Rumors that were being pushed on them by the traditionalists.
"You came to confirm it wasn't true, right?" Jacques asked Ferrand.
His friend nodded once, decisive. "The other loyalists are waiting to hear from us. The truly loyal know that everything they're saying is a lie, but there are some that need to hear you deny it. They'll still fight for you. They'll still defend our country. They just need to know that you, that both of you, are still on their side."
"Of course," Manon said, her brow furrowing. "Vasconia was already winning the war. There was no reason for them to do anything this potentially risky or foolhardy."
Ferrand smothered a laugh. "I mean, that's one way to dispute their idea."
"Logically, it makes no sense."
"They're not being logical," Jacques huffed, annoyed.
"We'll knock some sense into them," Ferrand promised, his expression lighting up with devious determination. "They'll regret trying to drag Gascony back into war and corruption. We'll show them the power of youth and progress!"
The oldest member of the loyalists very promptly smacked him upside the back of the head, making them all laugh. Ferrand, rubbing his head, sent him a playfully apologetic look, but very quickly turned back to Jacques and Manon.
"We'll go now. We'll get your supporters out on the streets and coordinate our own offensive. We'll beat them back."
Manon summoned Emilien and their general worked with Jacques and the loyalist leaders to determine how best the civilians could help. Manon chimed in occasionally with her own ideas, but she let them do most of it. She trusted Jacques to ask her for help if he needed it, but also trusted him to be able to handle things.
And in light of this new rumor, she wanted to have as little to do with planning as possible. If it went well, Jacques would get the credit, but if it went wrong, she would be blamed for sabotage. Better that she only aid as necessary but remain largely hands off.
As the night got later, one-by-one, the various leaders left with their orders. Jacques and Manon were appreciative of their people's desire to help, but they didn't actually want any of the civilians to hurt themselves in combat. They weren't soldiers, after all.
At the same time, they couldn't deny them their right to fight for their own country. If their enemies were standing on their doorstep, then it would be wrong of them to declare that they couldn't fight back or protect themselves.
But sending them into the chaos had to be controlled. It had to be cautious. To prevent their deaths and the deaths of the traditionalists.
As much as they hated Manon and as much as she knew they would happily kill her right now if given the chance, she didn't want them dead. She didn't want the streets of Ambraude to run red. She had not become queen to rule over ashes and blood.
Jacques understood that without her even needing to say a word. He handled all the planning, truly listening to his leaders, and especially to Emilien, as they planned and plotted. Manon was paying attention, but she was also letting her eyes scan over the group.
She had spent a brief period in the rebel camp – which, honestly, had been more of a refugee camp – when she had come here at the end of the war. However, aside from Ferrand, she hadn't met any of these men.
Jacques knew and greeted them all by name when they were called forward to receive instructions. All of them listened attentively to their king, nodding along with his words and eagerly taking each job dolled out, no matter how small.
These were the people that threw their lot in with him when it would have been considered treason and punishable by death. They were ready and willing to fight to protect Ambraude now because it was the Ambraude they had shaped, even if it had been their opposition to war that drew them together in the first place.
The youngest had probably just barely attained adulthood, and the oldest could have been her grandfather – had either of them still been alive. And since they were so much older and experienced compared to Jacques, her husband really listened to them when they spoke.
Most of the men here wore no coat – signifying they were married – and at least half of them were dressed as nobility. The poorest among them looked to be a common citizen that just wondered into the palace quite by accident. He was also the one that eagerly jumped to perform the dangerous task of trying to route the mob so that they only went were Jacques wanted – trying to keep them contained if nothing else.
Good, loyal men, all.
Manon wasn't sure what drew her eye to the man in the corner.
He wasn't wearing a coat and he was keeping his head down, almost hiding behind one of the more rotund members and then, when that guy left to go coordinate supplies for the loyalists, one of the taller men. He kept his eyes mostly on Jacques as he spoke but, occasionally, his gaze would dart over to Manon then quickly away again.
He wasn't doing anything wrong, but Manon couldn't help but feel uneasy as, every time he lost a shield, he surreptitiously hid behind another person. Or how that careful act of hiding and slowly moving around the shrinking group was bringing him closer and closer to her.
His eyes darted again, only to catch on her gaze.
He caught her staring. She caught him staring. For a second, neither of them moved as they waited for the other to look away.
He moved quickly, yanking something out of his pocket. Manon didn't see what it was, she reacted without thinking. She yanked the dagger hidden in her skirts out of its sheath and threw it even as he attempted to do the same.
Jacques had reacted at the same time, grabbing her arm and yanking her out of the way of the tiny dart that flew past her right where she had been standing. The tiny dart, disguised as a clothing pin, clattered against the ground as he screamed in pain. Manon's dagger had flown true, sinking into the meat of his forearm. He cried out, sinking to his knees as the loyalists around him converged, grabbing for him as the royal guard rushed forward.
"Are you okay?" Jacques asked, checking Manon over carefully.
"Fine," she promised, giving him a smile. "Thanks."
He grinned. "Your aim is quite good."
"I'd like to take full credit, but it was mostly luck," she laughed.
The two of them turned to face the attempted assassin. He had been secured first by the traditionalists then bound the royal guard. The latter were lifting him to his feet. Ferrand was picking up the dart, sniffing at the pointed end and making a face at what he smelled.
"That smells deadly," he said, holding it out to one of the guard.
"Who is that?" Manon asked as the man struggled against the guards. "An impostor?"
"No." Jacques' gaze darkened on the man. "He is one of mine."
Upon hearing his king speak, the man finally stopped thrashing. He stilled, his bound arms still held by guards, and glared first at Jacques, then at Manon.
"Why?" Ferrand asked, glaring at him. "You're one of us. Why would you do this?"
"Are you kidding?" He asked, incredulous. "She's an unnatural! Even if she's not plotting to destroy us all, her kind, by it's very nature, is evil!"
"Take him to the dungeons," Jacques said, his jaw tight. "He'll be executed for his crime."
"You are corrupted by her! You all are!" He yelled, once again pulling at the men that held him. To no affect, as they pulled him from the room with seemingly no issue.
"Anyone else?" Jacques asked, his hard eyes moving over the room.
No one spoke, but a few shifted uneasily under his gaze. Jacques' glare sharpened, his hands tightening into fists.
"Let me be perfectly clear," he said, each word carefully enunciated and falling from his lips like a hammer cracking down on steel. "Manon is my wife. She is my queen. My love. That will not be changing."
Manon started in surprise. Both at his hard tone and the sincerity in his words.
"Our marriage was made in convenience, but don't let that color your impression of our union. I could not have loved any woman that would not have made the well-being of my kingdom so high a priority or would not have made such a deal. Everything she has done, she has done for Gascony. For it's people. I love her because of this marriage of convenience, not in spite of it.
"Anyone that seeks to harm my wife will be punished. Severely. Between the two of us, she is the merciful one. She is the kind one. I have no mercy for those who seek to kill her. I will abandon this kingdom and let it fall if I must to keep her safe."
Manon reached out and touched Jacques' arm, giving him a quick smile, trying not to let the gathered crowd of aghast loyalists see how her heart fluttered at his declaration. "We aren't going to abandon our kingdom, my king."
"If it's your life or their ruin..." His voice trailed off with a careless shrug.
Manon should be ashamed of herself for loving the way he said that. For feeling special because he had just announced to his most devoted followers that he would leave them all to suffer if the alternative was her death. But she didn't.
"It won't come down to either," she promised, turning from him to the other loyalists who were now looking at her speculatively. "I did not do all of this just to turn away when it gets tough. Their lies and anger will not drive me out.
"I may have powers, but that means nothing. I am not sworn as a paladin. My loyalty is only to Gascony, my husband, and our continued peace. We will undo the damage Firmin is causing and we will do it together. All of us.
"I want Gascony to grow and flourish and progress. I want to expand the powers of the queen and not just for myself but for my daughters and their daughters, and also for my sons. So, that no prince is ever again put in Jacques' position where a council who controlled the kingdom refused to surrender their power because only a queen was available to rule.
"And yes, I want to help other women with powers. I want to keep them from being imprisoned and tortured and abused. I wanted that before I ever learned I had those powers myself. Because it's wrong. Even if these women were criminals, treating them the way they were is just inhumane. I won't stand for such cruelty."
The surprise at her impromptu speech turned into admiration for some and confusion for others. She turned to Jacques and he was looking at her with a tender, loving expression that sent a wave of warmth through her heart.
Jacques turned back to them, one arm resting possessively around her waist. "You all have your assignments. If you have further questions for me or my wife, ask them now. If not, be on your way and get to work. We have a city to protect."
Some snapped right to attention and bowed before leaving. Others shared looks first before doing the same. Only a few remained behind and their questions were rather easy to answer and not all that confrontational.
"Will we be prosecuted for harm we cause to the rioters as we try to fight them back?"
"No, so long as you act within reason and only kill if you are given no other choice," Jacques said.
"Do you plan to swear paladins to Gascony like they do in Vasconia?"
"No. We only want them to be accepted as people," Manon said.
"Do you really love the queen, your majesty?"
The last question brought Manon up short. Somehow, she didn't think that such a thing would be a concern for the loyalists. But the way that the few remaining men were looking at them told her that it was a genuine question. None of them were still wearing a coat, telling her that all of them were married. Men who loved their wives now looking at their king wondering if they could count him among their number.
Jacques smirked, half his mouth turning up, as he squeezed Manon into his side. "Do you really doubt me?"
The man searched first Jacques' smug face then Manon's light blush before he grinned knowingly. He bowed to them both before leading the rest of them out, leaving them alone in the suddenly too large room.
Jacques made a gruff sound, running a hand down his face without releasing her. "That took much longer than I thought."
"Yeah..." She searched his expression, her heart pounding in her chest. She couldn't help but notice that he hadn't actually answered that last question.
"I think we still have time to get an hour or two of sleep," he continued, oblivious to her thoughts, as he looked at the clock on the wall. He grimaced. "Maybe less. We could take turns. You sleep first. I'll sleep later."
She gave him a look. "Don't lie to me. You mean you'll give me a chance to sleep then, when it's your turn, you'll go do something else."
He laughed. "Found out. Very well, let's go get a measly hour or so together. Or until someone wakes us up again with more news."
He still didn't let go of her, his arm still resting casually around her waist, as he led her into the hall and walked them back to their room - the proper, royal suite. Their guards had already searched the room and were waiting outside of the open doors when they arrived. A new step in their security that Emilien had decided on so that they could still have some measure of privacy in their bedchamber.
They both thanked the men before closing themselves inside. The moment the latches clicked shut, Jacques finally let go of Manon so he could stretch, smothering a yawn.
"Come, love. Let's sleep while we can."
He started walking to their open bedroom, rubbing the back of his neck. Manon just watched him go, unable to pick up a single foot to step after him.
Jacques only made it about halfway across the room before he realized she wasn't following. He turned back to her, a frown pulling at his brow.
"Manon? Is something wrong?"
She opened her mouth but found she had no words waiting on her tongue.
Jacques' look concerned as he returned to her side, reaching out to take one of her hands. "What is it, dearest?"
"Am I?"
"Are you what?"
"Your dearest?"
He only looked more confused. "I don't understand."
"You didn't answer the question."
"You didn't ask me a question."
"Do you really love me or not!?" She practically shouted, her heart racing frantically in her throat as she breathed quickly as though she had been running.
He blinked, startled. Both by her question and the force with which she asked. The silence that rang out after her last word seemed so impossibly loud.
Broken when he began laughing.
Manon reared back, but she didn't get far before he grabbed her, pulling her into an embrace, still laughing.
"You're ridiculous," he said like she had been making a joke.
Manon squirmed in his grasp until she broke free, taking a couple quick steps back, glaring at him with full seriousness.
"You're still not answering the question," she snapped, very nearly stomping her foot. Feeling herself regressing back to her bratty self in her frustration and fear and longing.
He was staring at her again, surprised and confused and driving her mad because he was refusing to answer the simple damn question and she was going to go out of her mind if he just kept looking at her like that!
When her ferocity didn't dim, his amusement finally faded.
"Manon, how could you ask me that?"
"Are you serious?!"
"I've already told you that I love you!"
"Saying 'I love you' during sex does not count, Jacques!"
He actually had the audacity to look surprised. "It doesn't?"
"Of course, it doesn't!" She threw her hands up in exasperation.
"Says who?"
"Literally everyone knows that! People say all kinds of things during sex they don't mean. Up to and including 'I love you'. And you never said it at any other time, so how could I possibly-"
"I love you."
He cut her off so simply. Looking at her without a hint of duplicity or insincerity. His expression open and unguarded.
Manon's mouth was moving, but she couldn't think of anything to say.
"I love you," he repeated, chuckling softly as he closed the small distance between them. "I really do. Genuinely and legitimately."
Manon jumped, startled, when his hands rested down on her hips. He was moving slowly and deliberately, but she was staring so deep into his eyes she almost didn't even notice that he had gotten so close.
"When we're making love, I just feel so close to you. So connected. It's like," he cast his mind for the right words, a grin on his face. "It's like you and I are the exact same person. We laugh together, we play together, we belong together. When I feel that way, it has to come out somehow. And telling you that way seemed, to me, the perfect time."
Manon felt a laugh bubbling up her throat as she playfully smacked his chest. "I can't believe you're justifying saying 'I love you' for the first time like that."
"Is it working though?" He asked, brows bouncing.
She grinned, reaching up to run her fingers through his beard. A beard that she had asked him to grow and that she greatly enjoyed. It made him look so mature and masculine. She loved how rough it felt against her skin when he was kissing her all over.
"You know it's working, you impossible fool," she said, her voice tender despite her words.
"Every word is true," he promised, leaning over to rest his forehead on hers. "I love you dearly and I have for some time. I think you first got a hook in my heart when you were willing to sacrifice yourself to protect my people, and you've dug it in deeper with every action you've taken since. How could I not love such a strong and devoted queen?"
Manon melted at the softly spoken words as he gently pushed a strand of hair back from her face. "Oh, Jacques..."
"I'm sorry my bad timing made you doubt me, but I assure you that I've never lied to you, nor would I proclaim my love in public if it wasn't true in private. I would, of course, demand respect for you as my queen and you would still be my closest friend, but I would never let you and everything believe I loved you if it were a farce."
Beaming, Manon threw her arms around his neck and held him close.
"I love you too!"
He laughed, embracing her tightly. "Really? You do?"
She leaned back just enough to look into his face. "Do you doubt me?"
"I may have said the words at an inopportune time, but you never said them at all. You never responded to me."
"How could I respond to a confession I didn't know was genuine?!"
He snickered. She fought back a smile. They broke at the same time, falling into peals of laughter, holding onto each other to remain upright.
She wasn't sure who initiated the kiss. It just seemed to have started mid-laugh. Then, they were all over each other. Grabbing and kissing and still laughing.
Their dressing gowns hit the ground before Jacques broke it off to reach under her lips. She kept laughing when he lifted her into the air and walked her into the room. All the while, she was peppering his face and beard with kisses.
Jacques then threw her bodily onto the bed, making her cry out in surprise then burst into laughter as she bounced on the bed. He took a couple steps back then leapt, being careful not to actually land on her, before greedily taking her lips again.
She bit his tongue. He bit her lip. Then tickled her side. She let out a shriek of laughter as he sat back and simultaneously tickled her body and removed her dress.
But he had to stop when her nightgown caught on her arm. He needed both hands to yank it away, freeing her enough to push him back with a single shove. Unbalanced from his tugging, he fell easily and she scrambled atop him, planting her butt right on his stomach.
"Ah, I am vanquished," he declared throwing out his hands in surrender. "Whatever shall you do with me, you wicked seductress?"
Manon laughed as she trailed her nails down his chest, making him groan then hiss when she teased his nipples.
"Tell me you love me," she ordered.
"With all my heart and soul, I love you."
"Do you mean it?"
"Do you doubt me?" It was the same response he gave the men in the sitting room. Said with the same cocky slant to his lips. The same gleam in his eye.
And Manon finally saw what the other man had seen when Jacques hadn't answered. Because the truth of his words were written clear on his face. It was there in the sparkle in his eyes when he looked at her like she was everything he had ever wanted. It was in the warmth of his smile when he laughed at their silly antics. It was in the throbbing proof of his desire that she could feel, even now, pressing insistently at her backside.
Of course, Jacques loved her. He loved being with her and joining with her, so why shouldn't he declare that love at the peak of their pleasure? It was the purest moment he saw in their relationship and it meant everything to him, this connection he had with her.
"I love you," she said, almost whispering the words. "I love how good of a king you are. I love how well you take care of me and listen to me and support me. I love that you play with me one minute and rule with me the next. I love the way you make me laugh and moan and strive to be the best queen this kingdom deserves."
Jacques was grinning now – not quite smug but not quite tender either. Somewhere in between as he rested one of his hands behind his head. Managing to look completely in control and dominating, even spread out beneath her.
"I'm so glad you're here with me, Jacques," she admitted, stroking his beard again. "I'm so happy it's you."
"I would never let it be anyone else," he promised, stroking her thigh with his free hand. "You were always meant to be mine, Manon."
She smirked. "Even when we were cousins?"
He made a face that only made her laugh. He took advantage of the moment to roll them over, situating himself between her thighs as he rose up over her.
"I barely ever got to see you as a child. As far as my heart is concerned, our first meeting was here in Ambraude when I met you by accident in a hidden bar. And my heart was yours when you approached me in a rebel camp and demanded to be my queen."
He lowered himself, pressing her into the mattress with his weight as he buried his face in her neck, kissing it sweetly before whispering directly in her ear-
"I won't give up on our kingdom. I am determined to make this place better and safer for everyone. In the name of my father who loved me and this kingdom that raised me and for you, my love, who sacrificed your entire life to bring peace to both our countries. I will do everything in my power, give everything I have, to make this work.
"But know, if I fail, if Ambraude and Gascony can't be saved from their traditionalist ways, I won't let them devour you in their hatred. I will take you away from here and we will live our lives in Vasconia. Safe and alive, even if Gascony has to fall apart without us."
"It won't come to that," Manon promised, stroking his hair. "I'm going to make sure of it. I won't let this kingdom your father left you fall."
Jacques kissed her jaw, then her cheek, then her lips.
Their lovemaking that night was unspeakably tender and loving – so slow and exacting that it danced a sweet line somewhere between pain and pleasure. They didn't get any sleep, but the sacrifice was worth it to be together.