#the regent
INT. AUGUSTE’S TOMB - ARLES - EARLY MORNING
Cool moonlight streams through stained glass windows into the dark cavenous chamber. On a raised dais, suspended above a sea of candles, lays Auguste. His pale hands are clasped together against his chest, adorned in blue and gold to befit his title. A circlet crowns him in death.
Laurent (13) is slumped over Auguste’s stomach, his gold hair toussled when he looks up at Auguste’s face. Laurent’s eyes are half-lidded and red, he’s been like this for hours refusing to leave his brother’s side.
LAURENT
(exhausted)
I will watch over you…
(struggles to keep his eyes open)
I promise.
Slowly, he sinks to his knees. Laurent buries his head into the circle of his arms, mouth slack he wavers into sleep. Soon after, footsteps resound in the chamber. Some slaves and the regent’s men disperse around the room to pack up the remaining remnants of the vigil.
A man steps up to the dais, dressed in dark robes and a medallion of state. We don’t see his face as he gathers a sleeping Laurent into his arms and carries him away from Auguste.
