There is no time than when a woman is with child that her dreams are the most profound – and perhaps frightening as well. Since the death of my husband, I had left Versailles, but only after having to beg my leave from the Court from King Louis himself. The King said that he was very sorry to see me go, but that he completely understood my reasons for doing so. He promised to send a mutual friend to check upon my progress. That night I left Paris and travelled to my husband’s ancestral home.
I dreamt last night that it was Louis de Rouvroy, Monsieur le Duc de Saint-Simon that the King sent to the Château de Rochefort. He was certainly one of the most well spoken and elegant of King Louis gentlemen at Court. He had a frank honesty about him that shocked many, and that Louis tolerated even when the Duc criticised him roundly for his excesses and those of the Court. When everyone there was quick to say, “Les femmes ne sont pas gens,” – ‘Women are not people,’ De Saint-Simon was the first to speak out against the idea. Continue reading
OOC: Takes place after THIS post but certainly before Faelyn is with child.
aelyn staggered home. She had indulged in the most brutal and wanton pleasures of the flesh with Marius. Every muscle ached as she got out of the car and all but limped toward the Chateau de Rochefort. Her body was a mass of cuts, bruises and contusions that she would most likely need to take at least a little time to heal. Inside the house, probably waiting somewhere near a fire with a glass of brandy, and filled with barely-masqued concern would be her husband. With as much control and quiet as she could muster with her aching finges, she closed the door silently behind her. Inwardly she hoped that no servant was still up and awake in order to make a fuss. Right now she knew that she and Sebastien would most likely have words. Surely she was certain that she would not welcome all that there was to discuss between them.
As suspected, Sebastien was sitting in the library, with a glass of brandy that was not likely his first, and a book. Even at this vantage point she could sense his brooding. She knew that he would not be pleased and she tried very hard to sound as normal as possible as she entered into the room. “You’re up late,” she said softy.
There is a great deal to be said about those who serve. In some languages, Egyptian and especially ancient Sidhe in particular, to be a ruler or a teacher, means that you are a servant, if not a slave. It is the same word in any of those instances. What people do not realize is how much Power service truly has. There are those who wield Power and those whom are attracted to it. There are those who study it and there are those who seek to master it.
He was before her now, bound, blindfolded, naked and kneeling.