To Seduce the King of France {Sylvie}

[HENRI D'ARTOIS]

[style=font-family: times; font-size: 12px; letter-spacing: 1px; text-transform: lowercase; color: #989898; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;]1089 WORDS FOR Sylvie Notes here: Eep. I'm scared and I'm just watcing. If you're grossed out by Sylvie coming onto someone younger than herself, run away like Henri should be prudent enough to be doing about now... SEDUCTION [/style]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,450,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: #6d6d6d;] [style=padding: 10px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 10px; height: 475px; overflow: auto; color: #1e1e1e;]Henri finally felt free enough to escape the crowd in the garden for just a few moments. He knew he couldn't be away for very long or he'd be seen as shirking his royal duties - not that they accounted for much. He found it laughable that though the Chouannerie had nver felt the need to consider him or check with him in matters of state, they certainly didn't mind putting him out to talk and socialize with people. They really could be stupid at times. He was getting to the age now where any ill-expressed remarks could bring shame on them - yet, despite this, they never coached him on how to say or how to act just seemingly assuming that he was still their mindless, unaware little puppet following along with all their plans and schemes and using him like a little puppy dog. How horrified and shocked they would be to find out that he wasn't nearly as unintelligent and naive as they gave him credit for. He knew a lot about was going on, and he was beginning to chafe at being 'used and abused' in such a manner. However, they didn't know how aware he was and, honestly, that was a good thing. He'd keep that secret safe for as long as he could. Hopefully, if he didn't die before then, until he was 18 and could clean the government out of the whole lot of them and rule in his own name in his own way. He dreamed about what that day would be like sometimes. However, it could get exhausting having an endless parade of people to meet, be introduced to, try to remember all their and their kids' names so he'd seem more charming than most thirteen year-old boys really are, and make small talk with each and every person who wished to speak to him for hours on end. It felt like being a famous writer and going to conferences all around the world and getting all sorts of attention except for two things - it really was much more exhausting than that and he couldn't even be himself with most of these people. He had to pretend to think and be exactly like them - as closed minded, foolish, naive and a whole slew of other unfavorables - as they were so as not to come up to be in confrontation with the Chouannerie. They were powerful now and they only needed him to be their figurehead. They could, he realized, easily do without him and replace him if they ever decided that this was a desirable course of action. And if they got rid of him, he ws pretty sure it wouldn't be by sending him back to Naples to the family they kept him well at bay from having much communication with - if that were the case and if he didn't truly feel as thought being King of France was more important than anything else he could do - he probably would have opposed them and tried to get himself demoted and returned like a defective item bought in a store and then quickly discarded of a long time ago. Regardless of how important his charade was, it was tiring. He needed a few minutes away from the hubbub and constant attention. And, thus, he made his way to a little side garden that he could acess via a small wrought iron gate in the hedge. He would be next door to the main party and could still hear most of what was going on - because he wasn't that far away - in a slightly muted tone. It was far enough away they would not hear him moving around, but close enough that he could still get an idea of what was going on and if they realized he'd gone missing in action, which he did not want. It was quiet, dark, and peaceful here and he sat down relievedly on concrete bench in front of a gurgling fountain, able to just relax for some moments. Before long, he'd need to go back.. but for now he could just breathe. Little did he know, he was not alone and he was being watched. He stretched his legs out on the bench. His legs - as well as the rest of him - were getting much longer as he had started to grow a great deal lately. He had grown several inches this year, in fact, and was standing at almost five and a half feet. He was still a little slender, his shoulders not having filled out like that of a man yet, but beginning to look more the stature and height of one at least. He was tall enough to dance a volte with a woman and not look like an idiot - as May Day evening had proven. He was pleased with the recent changes in himself as he headed toward adulthood - and those only reinforced those changes in his mind that let him know tht maybe soon he'd be able to do more for his country than he was currently able. But there would be other days to think of that. For this evening, it was just to enjoy himself or, if that was impossible, to try to make some alliances or win some friends. Even amongst this circle, he could be surrounded by enemies. And then he noticed the other person. He was not, as he had believed, completely alone. The Marquise de St. Cyr was across the garden, slinking her way toward him. It was a good word for the way that she moved with the shadows. The Marquise was a bit of a strange woman in his mind - for she evoked mixed emotions in Henri. On the one hand, she was absolutely beautiful. Breathtaking, in fact. From the jewels to the perfect dress to her hair piled on top of her head to her glittering eyes and red lips.... But on the other, he'd heard fiercesome things about her Borgia relatives and had heard some rumors about things that happened to people who she did not like. And ever since he had heard those rumors, he'd felt on gaurd and a little uncomfortable and afraid of her. He wondered if she noticed. He hoped not. And so he stood there watching her, rushing to his feet quite quickly at that point and trying to adapt what he thought to be a rather formal but not unfriendly posture. [/style]

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