Moon Drunk: Origins

A King with No Manners

Felicite's father is - was, she must remind herself, for her father lives on this earth no longer -  King Remy Beaujolais, King Remy the Fourth, ruler of the united kingdoms of Bruges and Bourbon. Her union with King Jolis of Briony was to bring the kingdoms together under one rule, with her elder brother, Mariusz, succeeding Jolis's throne until Jolis and Felicite produced a living male heir. Her family is true and loyal to the rightful king of Briony and the Agincourts, led by her father, King Remy. Her mother, Anjolique Agincourt, descends from the Dukes of Agincourt, with royal blood dating to the First Wolves. Felicite Beaujolais is royal as royal can be, coming from the noblest blood in all the world, and she has never known any other life. 

Felicite is born and bred to be Briony's queen; her betrothal to Jolis was secured upon her birth. Two years her senior, Jolis became king of Briony upon his father's death, and their wedding was to occur on Felicite's sixteenth birthday. She was fortunate to have found true love with her betrothed; in the world of werewolves, commoners are able to find their mates, the one chosen for them by the Ancestors, but for royalty, mates are irrelevant. Marriages are arranged for political gain and alliances and for no other purpose; few marriages amongst the nobility are between true mates. Surely this is an insult to the Ancestors, but this is commonly disregarded, as the Ancestors have a heaven to rule, while their descendants must rule this warring world in which they reside. 

Julien Fleming will never be Briony's true king. He is a foreign invader and the son of a tyrant. That much is quite clear from his decree that Jolis must rot on the battlefield where he was slain by Julien's own hand. She is to wed her enemy. She is the reason her beloved is dead. The very thought makes her feel sick.

Her loyalties must lie with her family, first and always. Her older brother, Mariusz, has a legitimate claim to the throne, and if he can rally those who are still loyal to Agincourt behind him, if he can convince them to support his claim, then it is possible. And if Mariusz cannot, then young Richard, when he is of age, can come forward and make his own claim.

Anything is possible. 

But Felicite remembers when Mariusz rode home from the battle yesterday. His face was white as a ghost, his skin clammy and his eyes filled with fright. Mariusz was not new to battle; he had fought in dozens of battles in this war against the Fleming usurpers. Never before has he come home looking so pale and drawn; his sword arm bleeding through his torn coat, his eyes forever changed with the things he had seen on the battlefield. 

"We cannot defeat him," Mariusz had spoken, his voice filled with misery. "Forgive me, Sister. Forgive me."

"What do you mean?" Felicite had demanded of her beloved older brother, clinging desperately to his shoulders. "Tell me what has happened!" 

But she knows the truth of it before Mariusz speaks the words. Jolis is dead. The crown belongs now to a Fleming; the Agincourts are defeated. 

"So long as this Fleming king lives, then all hope is lost," Mariusz told her grimly as they sat by the fire that evening while she stitched together his wounded arm and served him ale. 

"Felicite, gather the girls," Anjolique Beaujolais of Agincourt announces, her voice calm and steady despite the tension and fear that hangs heavy in the air. Felicite hurries to obey, dashing up the spiraling stone stairway to the chamber that is used as a schoolroom for her younger siblings, fourteen-year-old Claude, twelve -year-old Richard, eleven-year-old Dulce, and seven-year-old Cosette. 

"Come, children. Mother is waiting for us," Felicite says.

"What is it? What is wrong? Is it father?" Everyone is speaking at once. 

"Just come," Felicite commands, gathering them before her and herding them down the stairs to the chamber where their mother stands waiting.

"What is it, Mother? What is happening?" Claude cries tearfully.