The Imbecile [sometime last year]

[Fluff]

OOC: This conversation is taking place in French

 

"You utter fool. You imbecile," Le Roi freely muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose, his other hand in his side. He was wearing only his shirt sleeves, and his dark curled periwig lay abandoned over a chair, leaving his short crop of greyed hair bare. There was no need to stand on ceremony in this company.

 

This entire situation was giving Louis a headache again, as it had not failed to do every time he was confronted with this idiot plot of his family members that had gone foul, wiping away all his hard work to encourage his English royal cousin to join his Catholic quest to the bigger glory of La France and Le Roi du Soleil. He ignored the fact that it was already gone afoul of late, after the Spanish intrigues, and his gambit to remove Danby by revealing the Treaty of Dover. It was never Louis' fault. Impossible! Non, it was the fact he was surrounded by imbeciles, like the one before him, who had come to beg for his mercy.

 

"I hope Madam De Chartres will enjoy her stay in the convent for she shall not leave for the rest of her life. Now, the question is what shall I do with you? There is a nice room in the Bastille perhaps."

 

The man before him flinched, knowing what le Roi was capable of in regards to family, even when he did not spill a drop of royal blood. Louis grunted with frustration, for simply locking him up and throwing away the key, however tempting, would not repair the diplomatic relations with England.

 

"Bien, there is only one thing to it." He stared at one of the highest ranking peers of his kingdom, a prince of the blood no less. With satisfaction Louis noted that he cringed, lowering his head under his furious glaze. "You.Shall.Apologize." He paused for effect "In person, to Charles himself."

 

His head shot up. "Not that," came the indignant protest, "Surely you can't expect me.."

 

"I can and you will." And there was an end to it.

 

Le Roi dismissed his errant familymember, then penned a letter to his diplomats, Ruvigny in particular, to prepare the visit to England, somewhere in Spring. Perhaps for the 1st of May, the King briefly pondered, then nodding to himself.