Manon's Ascension

Old Allies

Old Allies

For the trial of the traitorous, former palace steward Arnaud Amedee, Jacques and Manon came in full regalia. Gown and crown and aloof disdain as they sat on their matching thrones - one ancient and passed down through the ages and one brand new, made to exactly match the other. Manon was sitting on the former, Jacques on the latter.

They kept their thrones close, the arms flush, so they could hold each other's hands. A show of solidarity and strength.

The throne room was full today. The court filled with onlookers. Mostly old nobility, but more than a few new ones. They had come to gawk and see what was going to happen to such a high ranked, dangerous traitor.

Arnaud had never lifted a blade to Manon, but he had gotten closer than anyone to killing her. They all knew he was going to die, they just wanted to see how it would happen.

Some of them had come into the large room chatting and laughing and carousing. Like this was a fun day at the fair. Jacques and Manon had put a stop to it immediately. It didn't matter if it was a moment of victory over an enemy. They refused to allow such a solemn occasion to be marked with amusement at the death of another.

So now, instead, it was silent and grim as the doors opened and two palace guards escorted the old man into the room. He had manacled on his wrists and ankles and the soldiers had to hold him up by the arms as he was without his cane.

But despite that, he walked forward with all the confidence his aged, stooped body could manage. His eyes were forward, looking right at them, refusing to lower them in reverence. Undisguised and unmasked hatred burned in his expression when he looked at her in particular.

Jacques and Manon met his gaze evenly as he was stopped before them.

"State the charges," Jacques ordered, his voice echoing powerfully in the quiet room.

The recorder cleared his throat, as though to quiet the silent room before declaring loudly, reading off an official sheaf of parchment-

"Arnaud Amadee, former palace steward, sworn servant to their majesties King Jacques Urbain and Queen Manon Urbain, you are brought before their majesties now accused of the crimes of conspiracy to assassinate a member of the royal family and treason."

"What have you to say for yourself?" Jacques asked, his tone even and calm.

Arnaud held his head high, his lips curled in a sneer. "Though I have done everything I am accused of, I am not guilty of treason."

"How do you figure that?"

"There is no one more loyal to the royal family than I! I practically helped raise you, your majesty. I bleed and live and breathe and die for my country."

"Yet, you would kill my queen?"

Arnaud spat on the ground, causing titters of disapproval to break out amongst the nobility. "She is no queen. She is a whore!"

Manon felt Jacques' grip tighten in hers, just slightly, but it was the only outward sign he gave that he was affected by the insult.

"So, you do not deny sending multiple people to kill your queen? Providing them the means and opportunity to do so?"

"I deny it." Arnaud scoffed. "She is not a queen. She is a false idol! A seductress that has blinded you to her evil!"

"People always think I'm so much more interesting than I am," Manon sighed sadly.

"Don't say that, dearest," Jacques stroked the back of her hand with his thumb. "I find you to be very seductive."

Manon had to fight back a laugh. This was hardly the time. But the fury that blazed in Arnaud's eyes at their casual dismissal pleased her. Though it was a solemn occasion and she would treat it as thus, her face was still bruised and ached under the heavy layer of makeup concealing the dark colors and her sympathy was therefore very low.