Fic Post
Been watching the Queen and ponies! on the telly this evening and remembered I had this.
Plantagenet fic, rated G.
Poitiers, Aquitaine, December 1194
It is not difficult for Richard to slip away during the revelries. This should be a joyous occasion, presiding over his first Christmas court in Poitiers as an anointed king and a, belatedly, returning Crusader, but all that fills his mind is darkness; creeping like the ivy that covers the wall. His failure to retake Jerusalem, his confinement in Germany and his release only to discover the extent of Capet’s betrayal all compete to be foremost in his thoughts. He is not in the mood to pretend with his mother and his wife that everything is fine, to ignore his Mother’s barbed remarks directed at Berengaria and Berengaria’s forbearance and pleading eyes directed at him. She’ll need to save herself from Eleanor. He wishes her luck in it.
He decides to head for his stables, to see Fauvel, the horse he’d acquired in Cyprus and had become fonder of than several members of his own family. The stables are quiet except from the soft snorting of the horses and the not so soft snoring of the groom that is meant to be on duty. Richard leaves him be; it’s Christmas after all.
There is someone else in the stable though, Richard can hear muttering, but he thinks it is only the one, male, voice. He follows it until he is stopped abruptly by an apparition. At first he thinks it’s his brother Hal, the colouring of the hair is like Richard’s own but the build is slighter. Hal has been dead for years though and would now be a man nearing his fourth decade anyway. The youth has realised he is being watched and looks up startled. It is then that Richard realises he is looking upon his own son and had not even recognised him. It is one more bitter swallow for in addition to everything else he has been robbed of the opportunity to see his only child make the transition from the nursery to finding his place in the world of men.
The boy stammers, seemingly unsure of the proper etiquette. “Papa…” He offers a clumsy bow, “I mean…my Lord…” Richard can see now that the little beast, Snowflake, a northern pony Richard procured for Phillip several Christmas' ago is behind Phillip, and must be the reason why the boy is in the stables. The beast noses at the carrots in Phillip’s hand, and Richard smiles his first genuine smile of the day as Phillip tries to shoo the pony away, in dismay at the indignity of being found spoiling his childhood pet.
During Richard’s absence Phillip had been sent to act as a squire in the household of one of Richard’s Angevin vassals. Richard had not been pleased on hearing that his son had been sent out of Aquitaine but had no reply to his mother’s tart comment that would he have preferred one of his disgruntled and disloyal barons to trade the boy to Capet. Harry may be dead but his protection was still worth something for the Angevins would never trade a Plantagenet child to their enemies. The same could not be said for the barons of Aquitaine. He had summoned De Fourier, the lord Phillip was placed with, to his Christmas court in order for Phillip to join him. Their delayed arrival had been one of the many occurrences that had vexed Richard that day. The child he had left before departing on Crusade would have rushed towards him, but Richard can see that young man in front of him now is wary. Richard himself feels slightly ill at ease, but asks, “Why did you not come straight to the Great Hall?” He scowls at a sudden thought, “Did De Fourier tell you to remain here?”
Phillip shakes his head, “No, in fact he said I should make haste to the Hall…but I wanted to see Snowflake…” He looks down before finally admitting what was keeping him from the Hall, “I did not think it was proper, with your wife there, just to barge in.”
Richard feels his features creasing into a frown once more, “But you have met Berengaria before? I was told she had asked to see you?” He had spoken to Berengaria of Phillip before they married for he had wanted to make it clear to her there was no question of him being shunted to the side. She had seemed accepting of the situation and in the absence of anything else in common they had found something to talk about in Phillip. She had not been overjoyed to hear he had an illegitimate child but she had seemed to enjoy Richard’s stories of childish antics, had nodded approvingly as Richard informed her of the education Phillip was receiving. He had not been overly worried about how she would react. No woman was prouder than his mother and even Eleanor never held a grudge against Harry’s bastards, knowing that their existence was no fault of the child’s. Richard cannot believe he has misjudged Berengaria to the extent that she would have been unkind to the boy.
Phillip shuffles and reaches back to pet Snowflake, “Oh yes, I have met her and she was very gracious…but she will have her own children soon, now that you have returned. She won’t be bothered about me then.”
It is Richard’s turn to shuffle awkwardly at those words. Berengaria had not conceived in the Holy Land and Richard has done little to ensure conception since his return from Germany. His mind is too occupied and every time he tries he remembers Capet’s grip on his wrist that last day in Acre, his insistent, ”Come back with me, please. Come to Paris and we can send to Poitiers for your boy. We can raise both our sons together, please, Richard. Do not stay here to die for a God whose priests condemn you to Hell for the nature that he himself gave you.” He thinks he remembers it that way, he had been in the throes of one of his quatrain fevers when Capet had taken his leave.
Richard changes the subject, “How goes your training with De Fourier?”
Phillip stands a little straighter, “I’m the best with a sword…but not so good with the lance. I’m afraid.” Richard smiles at that, pleased about the sword news and that Phillip still feels comfortable enough with him to tell him about the lance, he replies, “I could practice with you, while you are here, if you’d like?”
Phillip looks up at him and for a moment Richard sees a glimpse again of the adoring child he’d once been, “Oh yes! I would like that very much! if you’re sure you have the time to spare…”
Richard is magnanimous, “I’ll make the time.” With that he puts his arm around Phillip’s shoulder and steers him towards the stable doors, “Now I think it’s time we returned to the Great Hall, and there’s no need to fear Berengaria, you should be more worried about the fact your grandmother is also here.” He can’t help but laugh at the sudden, startled look, on Phillip’s face.
Plantagenet fic, rated G.
Poitiers, Aquitaine, December 1194
It is not difficult for Richard to slip away during the revelries. This should be a joyous occasion, presiding over his first Christmas court in Poitiers as an anointed king and a, belatedly, returning Crusader, but all that fills his mind is darkness; creeping like the ivy that covers the wall. His failure to retake Jerusalem, his confinement in Germany and his release only to discover the extent of Capet’s betrayal all compete to be foremost in his thoughts. He is not in the mood to pretend with his mother and his wife that everything is fine, to ignore his Mother’s barbed remarks directed at Berengaria and Berengaria’s forbearance and pleading eyes directed at him. She’ll need to save herself from Eleanor. He wishes her luck in it.
He decides to head for his stables, to see Fauvel, the horse he’d acquired in Cyprus and had become fonder of than several members of his own family. The stables are quiet except from the soft snorting of the horses and the not so soft snoring of the groom that is meant to be on duty. Richard leaves him be; it’s Christmas after all.
There is someone else in the stable though, Richard can hear muttering, but he thinks it is only the one, male, voice. He follows it until he is stopped abruptly by an apparition. At first he thinks it’s his brother Hal, the colouring of the hair is like Richard’s own but the build is slighter. Hal has been dead for years though and would now be a man nearing his fourth decade anyway. The youth has realised he is being watched and looks up startled. It is then that Richard realises he is looking upon his own son and had not even recognised him. It is one more bitter swallow for in addition to everything else he has been robbed of the opportunity to see his only child make the transition from the nursery to finding his place in the world of men.
The boy stammers, seemingly unsure of the proper etiquette. “Papa…” He offers a clumsy bow, “I mean…my Lord…” Richard can see now that the little beast, Snowflake, a northern pony Richard procured for Phillip several Christmas' ago is behind Phillip, and must be the reason why the boy is in the stables. The beast noses at the carrots in Phillip’s hand, and Richard smiles his first genuine smile of the day as Phillip tries to shoo the pony away, in dismay at the indignity of being found spoiling his childhood pet.
During Richard’s absence Phillip had been sent to act as a squire in the household of one of Richard’s Angevin vassals. Richard had not been pleased on hearing that his son had been sent out of Aquitaine but had no reply to his mother’s tart comment that would he have preferred one of his disgruntled and disloyal barons to trade the boy to Capet. Harry may be dead but his protection was still worth something for the Angevins would never trade a Plantagenet child to their enemies. The same could not be said for the barons of Aquitaine. He had summoned De Fourier, the lord Phillip was placed with, to his Christmas court in order for Phillip to join him. Their delayed arrival had been one of the many occurrences that had vexed Richard that day. The child he had left before departing on Crusade would have rushed towards him, but Richard can see that young man in front of him now is wary. Richard himself feels slightly ill at ease, but asks, “Why did you not come straight to the Great Hall?” He scowls at a sudden thought, “Did De Fourier tell you to remain here?”
Phillip shakes his head, “No, in fact he said I should make haste to the Hall…but I wanted to see Snowflake…” He looks down before finally admitting what was keeping him from the Hall, “I did not think it was proper, with your wife there, just to barge in.”
Richard feels his features creasing into a frown once more, “But you have met Berengaria before? I was told she had asked to see you?” He had spoken to Berengaria of Phillip before they married for he had wanted to make it clear to her there was no question of him being shunted to the side. She had seemed accepting of the situation and in the absence of anything else in common they had found something to talk about in Phillip. She had not been overjoyed to hear he had an illegitimate child but she had seemed to enjoy Richard’s stories of childish antics, had nodded approvingly as Richard informed her of the education Phillip was receiving. He had not been overly worried about how she would react. No woman was prouder than his mother and even Eleanor never held a grudge against Harry’s bastards, knowing that their existence was no fault of the child’s. Richard cannot believe he has misjudged Berengaria to the extent that she would have been unkind to the boy.
Phillip shuffles and reaches back to pet Snowflake, “Oh yes, I have met her and she was very gracious…but she will have her own children soon, now that you have returned. She won’t be bothered about me then.”
It is Richard’s turn to shuffle awkwardly at those words. Berengaria had not conceived in the Holy Land and Richard has done little to ensure conception since his return from Germany. His mind is too occupied and every time he tries he remembers Capet’s grip on his wrist that last day in Acre, his insistent, ”Come back with me, please. Come to Paris and we can send to Poitiers for your boy. We can raise both our sons together, please, Richard. Do not stay here to die for a God whose priests condemn you to Hell for the nature that he himself gave you.” He thinks he remembers it that way, he had been in the throes of one of his quatrain fevers when Capet had taken his leave.
Richard changes the subject, “How goes your training with De Fourier?”
Phillip stands a little straighter, “I’m the best with a sword…but not so good with the lance. I’m afraid.” Richard smiles at that, pleased about the sword news and that Phillip still feels comfortable enough with him to tell him about the lance, he replies, “I could practice with you, while you are here, if you’d like?”
Phillip looks up at him and for a moment Richard sees a glimpse again of the adoring child he’d once been, “Oh yes! I would like that very much! if you’re sure you have the time to spare…”
Richard is magnanimous, “I’ll make the time.” With that he puts his arm around Phillip’s shoulder and steers him towards the stable doors, “Now I think it’s time we returned to the Great Hall, and there’s no need to fear Berengaria, you should be more worried about the fact your grandmother is also here.” He can’t help but laugh at the sudden, startled look, on Phillip’s face.