“You stole part of my garden to grown flowers for your paramour.”
“I stole nothing, brother, your gardens are exactly where you left them.”
Louis glared at Phillipe, and huffed slightly. “We do not appreciate your back-talk, brother. And you have no right to dictate to my gardeners. The next time you want to grow something, use your own lands, at Saint-Cloud.”
“Well, I would, if you would let me go back there-”
“Enough!” Louis raised his hand sharply. “Back-talk, brother, I will not have it.”
Phillipe held his gaze for a moment, then swallowed and bowed his head.
Louis settled back down. “Leave us,” he commanded. Phillipe turned and hurried from the room without bowing, a detail that did not escape Bontemps’ eyes. The valet scowled.
“Monsieur is growing above himself,” he muttered. “He deserves to be thrashed for his impertinence-” he broke off as his king began to chuckle. “Majesty?”
“Dearest Bontemps, you are always so protective. My brother meant no slight to me, only a romantic gesture towards the Chevalier. I would not let Phillipe know for the world, but I do not mind his appropriation of the gardens. I am rather fond of Chrysanthemums myself, after all…”
This concept was created with the help of @thewillgrxham, my partner-in-crime for a lot of these ridiculous things.
I might add more to this soon.
Louis slammed the papers down onto the table.
“Bontemps, what is the meaning of this!? Why does it say there is an order of thirty thousand francs for cake!?”
“Sire, I believe this would be best discussed with your brother.”
“And why is that!?”
“Because he ordered it, sire.”
Promptly, the brother in question woke as the furious King stormed into his chambers.
“Well this is an unexpected wake-up call.” muttered Philippe as he slowly sat up.
“Well I had an unexpected bill of thirty thousand francs!” Louis raged. “Why brother, in the name of all that is holy, have you spent so much? And on cake, no less!”
“Because I have a wedding to plan” Monsieur replied matter-of-factly. “And brother, you simply have not seen the cake.”
“As you said before when you spent fifty thousand on shoes!” the King sighed deeply, pinching his forehead between his fingers. “Would you, for once, exercise just one shred of control with what is still my money?”
The duke only laughed lightly, shaking his head. “The money is mine once I receive it, and I can spend it however I wish.” he argued. “Did you not spend extravagantly when you were getting married?”
“Yes, I did,” began Louis “but, brother - and this is where we differ greatly - I did notwear a dress, nor did I spend almost two hundred thousand francs on it!”
“You have said it yourself, brother, perception is everything.” Philippe reasoned. “How can I expect to be taken seriously at my wedding if I do not have theperfect dress?”
“It may have escaped your notice” threatened Louis, now looking directly at his brother. “But I still have control over your allowance. Just one word to Bontemps would ensure that you have nothing at all to finance this wedding, or anything else you may desire.”
“You would not dare” the Duke replied as he rose, shocked and enraged in equal measure.
“Oh, would I not?” asked Louis with a smirk, as he turned and left the room.
And that is why the Chevalier returned later that day, to find half their possessions on the floor and his lover in hysterical tears in the middle of the chaos.
Louis XIV tells his brother of the Chevalier’s arrest and leaves. Phillipe falls to his knees and passes the night sobbing on the chapel floor. A look at what might have happened if Henriette, or Bontemps, or Louis or the Queen or Rohan had gone to find him- and then a look at how, without the Chevalier, Phillipe has nothing at all. (Because Episode Seven wasn’t sad enough already.)