Chapter Text
Chapter One
Her eldest brother, Louis, had been born at the height of summer; when the heat was merciless and the breeze over Paris did little to ease the relentless glare of the sun. Marie had often heard how her mother endured a difficult labour, her strength drawn from unwavering faith in God, allowing her to bring the Dauphin safely into the world and into the eager arms of their father, the King.
Louis was the image of their mother, with his soft golden curls and gentle blue eyes. Marie understood now that it was likely the resemblance that had kept the Queen and the Dauphin safe in those early years-at least, until Philippe arrived.
Two years after Louis' birth, the court was abuzz once again. The Queen was with child. After years of waiting, the royal family not only had their Dauphin but also a spare. And that was exactly how their father had treated Philippe. Marie had often overheard the courtiers whisper how much Philippe resembled the late King, with his darker hair and warm eyes, but she had never seen the resemblance they spoke of.
His curls were too dark, his eyes more onyx than hazel; nothing like the portraits of their father. And the King had seen it too. Louis had confided in her about the disdain in their father's gaze whenever he looked at Philippe in those first few years-how he kept him at arms length and belittled him. Philippe spent the early part of his life striving to earn their father's affection. He never did.
Then rumours began. Quite at first, but persistent. The whispers claimed that neither of the Queen's sons were of the King's blood. That, in a desperation to secure France's future, she had taken a lover. A Musketeer. Marie had been a fool to not have realised sooner how true these rumours had been.
Thankfully, the war with Spain had consumed the court's attention long enough for the rumours to fade. The musketeers were sent to the southern boarders, and the King, ravaged by illness and paranoia, grew increasingly vicious in his final months. His spite had been directed at the Queen and Philippe, and Marie felt a small, selfish relief that she had not been born durning those days.
A month after the Kings death, it was announced that the Queen was once again with child. God's parting gift from the late King, they had called her. But Marie had never felt like a gift.
Born in the early spring, Marie's arrival was met with both joy and sorrow. She had her mother's delicate features, but her eyes, those unmistakable onyx eyes, were the same as Philippe's. No one dared ask questions.
***
Marie's curiosity about her father had only grown with time. Having never known him she was full of questions for her mother. One summer afternoon when she was six, as they sat weaving daisy chains on the palace lawn, she had asked the question that had lingered in her mind for so long.
"Did Papa love me?"
Her mother had been focused on the flowers in her lap, but at Marie's words, she glanced up; her eyes drifting to where Louis and Philippe were practising their fencing with Athos. Aramis stood nearby, offering pointers as the boys tried to best their opponent.
A soft, wistful smile crossed her mother's lips.
"Of course, my darling," She said gently. "He loved you from the moment he held you."
Marie had frowned, her young mind trying to make sense of it.
"But how could he have held me if Papa went to heaven before I was here?"
Her mother's fingers stilled on the daisy chain. Marie was too young to notice the flicker of pain that crossed her face.
"Well," her mother began softly, taking a breath.
"We know that God is all around us, holding us in his embrace. And your Papa is with God... so he's always here."
She placed her hand gently over Marie's heart before offering her the finished daisy chain.
"Now, I think it's time you presented your brother with his crown don't you?"
In that moment, Marie had been content with the answer, her young mind easily distracted. With an excited squeal, she grabbed the daisies and dashed across the lawn.
"Louis! Mama and I made you a pretty crown!"
Philippe, ever the playful accomplice, immediately wrapped himself around Louis' legs to keep him from running away, while Marie ran towards Aramis, arms outstretched.
"Help me put it on him!"
Without hesitation, Aramis swept her into his arms, his grin wide.
"But of course, your highness."
He held her high as she placed the crown of daisies atop Louis' head, giggles filling the air.
"I know exactly how ticklish you are, Marie!" Louis warned, struggling to free himself from Philippe's grip.
"Princess, I think it's time for a quick retreat." Aramis set her down, and Marie dashed to hide behind his legs, her laughter bubbling uncontrollably.
"Unfortunately, you highness," Athos said, his tone laced with amusement as he gathered the boys' discarded practise blades,
"I don't think the Minister will be able to protect you from the King."
"Philippe, help me get her!"
At the prospect of tormenting their little sister, Philippe sprang into action.
"Run, your highness! I'll hold them off!" Aramis pretended to block the boys, putting up a half hearted defence. Marie let out a squeal of pure delight as her brothers chased her around the lawn, their laughter echoing through the gardens and beneath the low hanging willow trees.
What Marie didn't notice, what none of the children did, was the quiet exchange of looks between the Queen Regent and the First Minister. A look of shared pride, and perhaps something more.