houseofbourbon197:

Prologue

I. The Visit

The day was not cold but neither was it warm. Even as the sun shone its brightest, the warmth of its rays were not felt. One came toward a simple stone marking a place where a life lost to time was lain. Never forgotten and always remembered by no more than myth and legend. Upon the eternal deathbed, one placed a single rose. On its stem was a golden ribbon. “Pour Orrose,” the voice said softly. The voice was like a song that rang louder than the dead could hear even as the living never would. For now. 

The shadow of the one at the grave grew smaller and the light of the sun shone upon the stone—it’s name faded by time. C’est l’histoire d’Orrose.

**** **** **** ****

She walked slowly from the grave to join her companion who waited outside the decaying stone walls of the old prison. She lifted her veil and looked at him with her eyes the color of the sky.

“Was he there,” he asked gruffly. He was in no mood for sentiment. He had only accompanied her out of duty.

“I would not know,” she said softly. “There were others there. It would be impossible to search through them all to find one lost soul.”

“Then why would you come all this way for nothing,” he asked as a footman opened the carriage door.

“It is nothing to you, for you did not know him,” she said angrily.

“Neither did you.”

She glared at him—her face twisted in anger.

“I knew of him,” she began. “And of what I know, he was a far better man than you will ever be.”

She turned and was helped into the carriage. Her companion signed and followed her inside. He motioned to their driver and they began their journey home.

I watched them as they left and wondered to myself who was she—this lovely girl who had come so far to remember a man she did not know. I thought about how I came to be—a ghost of a man with a past I could barely remember. For her, I would try to remember. Perhaps one day I would be able to tell her.–The Secret of the House of Bourbon–Prologue by Jaynaé Marie Miller. 07-26-2020

Let the saga begin.

lesecretdelamaisondubourbon:

⚜️XIV⚜️: I am Dieudonné (Ch. I/Pt. III)

Two footmen opened the doors and father stepped out. Before anyone could stop him, Philippe jumped out, nearly falling on his face.

“Shall I put him down, Your Majesty,” our governess asked Papa as she stepped out of the carriage.

“If you will,” he answered. “Philippe has had quite a day.”

“No,” Philippe said.

I took my first steps out of the carriage and looked around as Papa tried to reason with Philippe. To my recollection, this little château did not impress me much. It was just another one of our many palaces.

“Come, Louis,” Papa said to me, offering his hand.  I took his hand he led us into the château. Philippe talked every step of the way in the arms of our governess. Once inside, my father and I were parted and my brother and I were shown to our apartments.

“Philippe,” I asked, as he was put down on the bed while our governess left us alone. “What are you talking about?”

He stopped talking for a moment and thought about what I had asked him.

“I do not know,” he answered as he rolled over in laughter. Our governess returned as quickly as she had left.

“Your Highness,” she said to me. “You are to see your father immediately in his apartments. Straight through those doors.”

“No,” Philippe screamed. “I want Louis!”

She looked at me sternly. I gave her a weak smile as she left me to my brother.

“Philippe,” I began. “Go to sleep.”

“I do not want to,” he said, looking around. “Not here.”

“Please,” I begged. “I must go see Papa.”

“Will you come back,” he asked.

“Yes.”

Philippe yawned.

“I am not sleepy,” he said, as he fell asleep. When I was certain he would not wake up, I turned to leave the room to find Papa. Instead, he had found me.

“You are very good with your brother,” he said. “But you have always been.”

“I wish he were bigger,” I said. “He is still a baby.”

“He will not always be, Louis,” he said. “Just as you will not always be a child.”

Papa sat down in a chair beside the window. Though I was still young, he was not as I had once remembered him. I did not have the mind to ask what plagued him. I would have not understood what he might have told me. I went over to him to see what he was looking at through the window. He motioned for me to join him. I climbed upon his lap, and we sat together in silence for a time. The only sounds of nature came from Philippe’s restless sleep.

“Louis,” he finally said. “You will do as I say, yes?”

“Yes, Papa,” I answered.

“Watch after your brother for me,” he said. “Take care of Philippe.”

I nodded, thinking he was speaking about watching Philippe while we were staying the château. I looked over at my brother. He was sound asleep.

“There is no such thing as fearless, Louis,” I heard Papa say. “You must be afraid to do something so that you may find the courage to do anything.”

I turned back to him and nodded. He embraced me. I would not understand anything that happened that day for years but not long after he uttered those words to me, he would be dead and I would be king.

**** **** **** ****

Philippe was awakened shortly before dinner. He was unusually quiet, but nonetheless, took the time to let our governess know he did not like the food put before him. He would take a bite, scowl, then spit it out if the taste was not to his liking. To be fair, I had to admit I was not fond of it, either. I ate it out of obedience.

After dinner, we were put to bed. Getting there was always a chore when it came to Philippe. I am not sure when he learned to splash his bathwater on the servants for amusement, but he had turned it into an unholy ritual at every opportunity. Once we were dressed and in bed, I could hear the sighs of relief behind the doors of our room.

For some time that night, we slept peacefully without interruption. Then, I felt a jolt that woke me instantly. I felt the earth shaking but I knew better than to worry.

“Philippe, stop,” I said. I knew he was jumping on the bed. This was the one time I wish I had never taught him how to do it.

“I cannot sleep, Louis,” he said between each jump. 

“Neither can I, Philippe,” I began. “Because you are keeping me awake.”

He stopped jumping, landing on his bottom near my feet. 

“I am not a baby,” he said. That was the problem with Philippe. He could remember everything I said when I thought he was not listening. 

“Yes, you are,” I said.

Philippe crawled back to his place beside me and lay down.

“Louis,” he began. “You will take care of me.”

“I have to,” I said. “You are my brother.”

“You are my brother,” he said. “I will take care of you, too.”

With that, he kissed my forehead, lay down and fell asleep. I did not understand what he meant until we were older but Philippe always knew and I was glad for it.

**** **** **** ****

When I woke up the next morning, Philippe was gone. I looked around and saw him standing on the chair where Papa and I were sitting the day before. He was looking out of the window. I climbed out of bed and went to join him. The floor was cool, but a servant was stoking the fire in the hearth.

“Look,” Philippe said excitedly, pointing out the window. I saw Papa on horseback, riding with several other men. “Papa is leaving us!”

I smiled to myself. Philippe was still too young to understand.

“Papa is going hunting,” I told him.

“Why,” he asked, looking at me, concerned.

“That is what kings do.”

“Why,” he asked again.

“I do not know, Philippe,” I answered.

“Why,” he asked.

If our governess had not come into the room, I was going smack my little brother. It was time to eat and Philippe had become distracted with something new. As our porridge was served, I wondered how long Papa would be gone. Philippe took an enormous spoonful of porridge and shoved it into his mouth. With his mouth full, our governess took this moment to scold him.

“Smaller bites, Petit Monsieur,” she said. “Your Highness, sit up straight.”

Immediately, I changed my posture. She was stern but kind. We would not have her much longer, but she would come back into my life when I would need her the most.–The Secret of the House of Bourbon–XIV by Jaynaé Marie Miller. 12-18-2021

I just can’t stop Philippe from being cute; it’s just not going to happen.

lesecretdelamaisondubourbon:

⚜️XIV⚜️: I am Dieudonné (Ch. I/Pt. I)

There are a million reasons why I should not tell you the truth, but only one reason why I should–I have to. Even I know that things are not always what they seem. I may be the Sun King, but I have lived in the shadows–most often, of my own light. There was nothing I could not have in this life except for one thing–her. My life began at my birth, but I only had begun to live it when we met. Until that moment and every moment thereafter, life for me seemed an endless misadventure–a staged performance I longed to end.

**** **** **** ****

I was an unexpected gift from God. After years of struggling to produce an heir, I was born 5 September 1638 at Château Neuf Saint-Germain-en-Laye. I was known as Dieudonné. I was the God-given and I came to believe it to be true as I grew older. My father, Louis XIII, was as a walking shadow to me. I wish I had more time to learn from him the secrets of the crown I was to inherit. I remember very little about my father, but what I remember was good. He kept me at arm’s length until the birth of my brother. I did not understand why, but I credit him for the miracle of our father’s love in those last two years we had with him.

When I was barely two years old, my parents received leur second cadeau de Dieu—my brother Philippe. His arrival was my earliest and most treasured memories. When he arrived, I wanted to see for myself. I knew it was coming but at the time, I did not know from where. I wanted to see for myself this new baby everyone had been talking about. I had been separated from my mother because this creature for what seemed an eternity.

“Louis,” a voice said. I looked up to see who called my name. It was my father. “Would you like to see your new brother?”

I nodded. He scooped me up from the floor, addressed my governess and whisked me away. Moments later we entered a room where my mother was resting. Papa put me down and I made my way over to her. I heard strange noises coming from a cradle nearby. I quickly changed course and cautiously moved toward it. I peered inside to see a small infant. For a moment he seemed to look at me in fascination. I looked at my parents as I pointed at my new brother.

“His name is Philippe,” my mother said.

I turned my glance back to my new baby brother who seemed to be smiling at me. I knew then he was my Philippe—a friend and a brother for life. I could hardly wait for him to grow up. That, too, seemed to take forever in my infantile understanding of the world.

Once Philippe learned to walk, he seemed to want to follow me everywhere. Though I was but two years older, I towered over him like a shading tree. Whenever I would leave a room, Philippe would slowly rise from the floor and begin his trek behind me, stumbling awkwardly and flailing his arms to keep his balance. When he would fall, he would burst into tears. I would comfort him until he stopped crying. Then, as if nothing had happened, he would get up again and carry on behind me. It seemed like an eternity to walk down the long halls of the palace with him. 

I was never more thankful to God than when he learned to run. Even at my tender age, I was protective of Philippe. He was no more helpless than I was, but I was going to be king one day. At that age, I thought my only responsibility as a future king was taking care of my brother.–The Secret of the House of Bourbon–XIV by Jaynaé Marie Miller. 10-16-2021

In case you didn’t scroll far enough down to see the first exit about Louis XIV, here it is.

thesecretofthehouseofbourbonbook:

⚜️XIII⚜️: Chapter I/Part II (Book II)

As Alexandre became my servant, I became servant to my parents. It began simply enough—I was given a napkin to hand to my father at dinner. Soon enough, I was serving both my mother and my father regularly.

One particular morning, I ushered into my mother’s chambers and handed her chemise. I stood there for a moment wondering what to do.

“Kiss it,” I was told. “And hand it to Her Majesty.”

I looked at my mother. She glared at me impatiently waiting for me to fulfill my duty to her. I promptly did what I was commanded and her face softened, much to my relief. Not long thereafter, I was delivering her napkin at dinner as well.

I knew I was above all those that served the King and Queen—my parents. I was the heir to the throne of the Kingdom of France; how dare they? I knew I should not be subjected to such menial responsibilities. I felt there were no lessons to be learned in serving the self-serving so began to object to my parents’ life lessons.

It was winter when I first stood up against my lot in life. I had begun to grow weary of subservience. I realized that my father held little regard to my knowledge of my status in life. I knew he thought I was too young to know I was the son of the king and I felt it my duty to remind him. 

It was one evening in December when I was once again called to my duties as servant to the table of my father. I adamantly refused. I was promptly shown to my father’s table.

“What is this,” he asked me. “Why are you not about your duties to your father?”

“No,” I said, my arms folded across my chest. “I do not want to.”

“But I am the master,” he answered. “And you, you are my valet.”

“I am not your valet,” I said. “I am your son.”

“Would a son refuse to serve his father,” he asked. “And are you not the son of the king, Louis?”

I looked around to see everyone watching. My mother’s expression was one of disapproval—and in my youth, I could not tell with whom she was more disappointed. Finally, I gave up my futile mission. In surrender, I unfolded my arms and sighed.

“Now,” my father began. “Who are you?”

“I am Papa’s little valet,” I said softly.

My father smiled triumphantly as I handed him his napkin. Defeated, I turned slowly walked away. It would not be the last time I would give in to the power of my father but in my defeat, I would grow stronger.–The Secret of the House of Bourbon–XIII by Jaynaé Marie Miller. 05-10-2021

Life in the quart of Henri IV is not always what it appears.