Moon Drunk: Origins

Coronation for a King with a Stolen Crown

The city of Ravaenna is in a state of chaos when the company arrives through the heavy wooden gates. The closing of those gates once set the butterflies to soaring in her belly, but now serve only to remind her that she is a prisoner. There is no warm welcome for the former royal family in the capitol city, no banners hoisted in their honor, no procession to the royal apartments, no greeting from those who once served her lover or her father. No one dares even to call out to the Beaujolais family as they ride past.

"There is no welcome for his future queen? This king has no manners. Already he disappoints," Felicite remarks bitterly. "Could you imagine Jolis behaving in such a way?"

"Felicite," Anjolique hisses. "Jolis is dead. And so shall you join him if you do not learn to hold your tongue."

"If only it were that simple to be with him again," Felicite mutters.

Merely two days ago, she was betrothed to a good man. She had been designing her gown with her mother and the seamstress from Paredes, consulting with the hatmaker and the shoemaker, learning a new dance for the celebrations with the Master of Revels, and preparing a twenty-two course menu for the wedding feast.

Two days, and everything has changed.

Felicite takes a deep breath and then lifts her chin. She is an Agincourt princess, and regardless of which king she weds, she will be queen. She must compose herself so as to not bring shame to her family and the Agincourt loyalists who anxiously await their opportunity remove the new king from his stolen throne.

"My girl," a woman's voice calls from the crowd, and a wave of relief washes over Felicite as she recognizes a familiar face.

"Oh, Lady Margrithe," Felicite sighs, lifting her eyes in a silent prayer of thanks to the Ancestors. She soon finds herself in the welcome embrace of her beloved aunt. The comforting scent of her father's elder sister envelops her, and Lady Margrithe pats her back soothingly. 

"Tell me, my girl, how was your journey? Are you well?"

Felicite finds herself at a loss for words. She fights against her tears.

"Hush, child. Not here. Anywhere but here." Lady Margrithe says firmly. "Come, we will go inside."

"Are we not to stay in the royal apartments?" Felicite asks in confusion. "Jolis gifted-"

"Jolis is no longer king. You must remember that."

With that, she sends Felicite ahead into her private apartments to compose herself while she greets Anjolique and Felicite's sisters. It will not do for Felicite to fall apart in public. She must appear the constant princess, strong and proud, to remain beloved by her people.

Soon after, Lady Margrithe follows behind Felicite with Dulce and Cosette positively dancing around her, everyone speaking at once, and there is happiness in the eyes of her aunt. Despite the circumstances, this reunion is long overdue.

"Now tell me about your journey," Lady Margrithe says once everyone is seated, to everyone's frustration.

"Margrithe!" Anjolique says impatiently. "Tell us what news in Ravaenna? What of Julien Fleming?"

"There will be time for all of that later," Lady Margrithe says, arranging for a tray of sweets and mugs of small ale to distract the smaller children. "Now, as for my girls. Claude, you continue to grow. You shall be taller than your mother soon. Such a beauty. The color of cream. Felicite, you look unwell. Have you been sleeping? You are pale, and thin. Are you not eating, child? You must keep up your strength."

"She is in mourning," Claude snaps irritably, the attention no longer on her. "Will King Julien still marry Felicite? If he does not, what will happen to us? He could not want her, after all, she has gone to bed with his sworn enemy. A man he defeated in battle. And if he does not want her...what will happen to us, Lady Margrithe? We will be destitute."