#royal brothers
⚜️XIV⚜️: I am Dieudonné (Ch. I/Pt. II)
Unlike Philippe, I had less freedom to do what I wished. I was the heir to the throne. My fate was sealed as the firstborn son. Philippe had the luxury of obstinateness and he delighted in it. He knew quite early that all eyes were on me. He took every opportunity he could to get away with anything.
As children, we spend some time around our mother’s ladies. They were an extravagant mix of the French and the Spanish. Our mother was the Infanta, daughter of Philip III of Spain. Both of us could speak Spanish as fluently as French by the time we began our studies.
“¡Hola, Louis! ¿Cómo estás?,” Philippe said to me one afternoon. He learned to speak rather quickly as if he was born to talk.
“What,” I said, surprised. I looked around to make sure no heard him. “You must speak French, Philippe.”
“No,” he said defiantly, stomping his little feet on the floor. “I hate French. I like Spanish. It is our mother’s language.”
“French is the language of our father,” I answered. “He is the king.”
“I do not care,” he said, crossing his arms.
“We are French,” I began. “We live in France, not Spain.”
“I will speak the language I want when I want,” he said. He knew I would give into his demands but I knew our mother better.
Very well, Philippe,” I began. We will speak Spanish among ourselves. Not with Mother. She will be angry. Do you understand me, Philippe?”
“But why, Louis,” he asked sadly. “She is Spanish.”
I could tell he wanted to tempt the hand of fate. He always want to see I was telling the truth.
“Philippe, no,” I said as firmly as I could.
“Very well,” he answered, pouting. It was hard for me not to indulge my brother and he knew this. All we had was each other as there were few children in the court in those days. Papa did his best to see as often as he could. When he was with us, I could see in him a longing in him I did not understand as child.
I came to believe that Philippe and I had a closeness that he never had with our uncle, Gaston. I wondered if their discord was the reason he made sure his sons were seldom apart. I came to believe this when he took us on a trip to a special place one day.
**** **** **** ****
The carriage ride seemed long. As always, Philippe kept himself occupied by wriggling endlessly as he pointed to everything along the way. Papa could not help but laugh.
“Philippe,” he said. “You are a handful.” He seemed to have something on his mind. It must have been sobering because his eyes were longer full of light as I had remembered. As if he could hear my thoughts, his attention turned to me.
“What are you thinking about, Louis,” he asked.
“Nothing, Papa,” I answered softly. “Where are we going?”
“To my favorite place,” he said smiling. “I am sure you and your brother will love it as much I do.”
“Papa, there are trees,” Philippe said, trying to lean out of the window. Our governess struggled to keep him still, but Philippe was having none of that.
“Yes, Philippe,” I said. “Those are trees.”
He turned quickly toward me with a vicious glare on his face. If he thought I was teasing him, he was correct.
“I know, Louis,” he said. “There are lots of trees.”
Suddenly, the trees began to disappear as we came upon a clearing. Looking out of the window, I could see a small château—far smaller than to what I had become accustomed. As our carriage came to a stop, I could see the relief on our governess’ face as Philippe bounced off her lap and over to Papa.
“What is that, Papa,” he asked eagerly.
“That is my home away from home,” he answered. “This is my castle at Versailles.”
Little Philippe shows off his Spanish skills. Then one day, Louis and his brother are taken on a little trip to a château at Versailles.
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