Moon Drunk: Origins

An Agincourt Princess, A Fleming Queen

"Felicite! They are barring the doors, even the great outer door, too! Why, why would they do that? What is happening?" Dulce calls, wide-eyed as she observes the flurry of activity in the courtyard below.

"Go and find Mother, remain in your chamber. Prepare our family to barricade in the Tower," Felicite replies, recounting Julien's command with a trembling voice.

When Prince Killian had arrived, nearly unconscious with exhaustion from his journey, his great charger lathered with sweat, he had not given them any information, only that they must leave at once for Ravaenna. There had been no questioning him once she had read Julien's correspondence.

"It is bad, isn't it?"

"I am certain that our king will keep us safe, Sister. Remember, he promised? And our gallant Prince Killian is well rested and as brave a soldier as Julien. He will join him, and Gabriel is with him, too. Who can defeat the three of them, together?"

"Yes, of course, Julien will protect us," Claude says nastily, taking Dulce's hand and leading her from the room.

"Princess Felicite?" Saoirse says, hurrying into the chamber. "Come with me, please. Quickly."

Felicite follows her mother-in-law into her privy chamber, where she closes the door herself so they are not overheard.

"There is an uprising in the city," Saoirse says. "Make no mistake. We are under siege."

"And what word from my lord husband?"

"There is none," Saoirse replies, her face somehow a mask of calm and serenity despite her frightened tone. "They have torn the banners from the palace walls. They are calling for the Agincourt heir. There is word your brothers live, and they call for them. They call for your family."

"My husband is my family. He is the king," Felicite says adamantly.

Saoirse studies her daughter-in-law for a moment as if weighing the truth to her words.

"And if your brothers come? Where will your allegiance lie then?"

"With the child in my womb, Lady Mother," Felicite replies, raising her chin. "And with his father on the battlefield. To stand against Julien would be to stand against my son, and I swear before all the Ancestors, I will never come against him." Her hand goes reflexively to her belly.  

Rumors spread quickly in the early days of the Rebellion of Ravaenna. There are skirmishes in the villages between Julien's supporters and the Agincourt loyalists; even some of Julien's own soldiers are said to have cast aside his banner and joined the other side. The betrayal is infuriating, but there is nothing to be done about it now with Julien's army preparing to fight Lucien's men in southern Bruges.

Anjolique is happy in this time, reassuring Felicite repeatedly that no matter what shall happen in this course of events, no matter who wins, whether her husband remains on the throne or her brother Mariusz takes it from him, she shall be safe.

"And my child?" Felicite asks miserably, a growing unease settling in the pit of her stomach. "What of him?"

"Your brothers love you, Felicite. They will never hurt your son. You and your child will be safe, and a marriage will be arranged to a good noble lord. The Flemings may be routed, for good, this time!"

"Julien is my husband," she replies. "He is the king."

Anjolique pats her hand comfortingly. "Kings are only kings until they are no longer kings."

"And what of Lucien's rebellion in the north? What happens if he wins?"

"Then we shall make a new plan."