If he would have been an ordinary person
Jun. 1st, 2011 12:50 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
solrosanNote: Saw a part of Sofia Coppola's Marie Antoinette (2006) on TV, just the short clip when the King and Queen were dining while their people were screaming for their heads outside. The destiny of Louis XVI has allways made me sad, he wasn't a bad man, not even that bad a king, he just ended up at the wrong place at the wrong time.
She touched his hand, she grounded him in reality. She touched his hand and suddenly the world became a little bit brighter. She always had that effect on him, on everyone actually. Everyone who knew her or just got a glimpse of her. Even the people outside, screaming for their heads, got their world lit by her. If he would have been an ordinary person he would never had gotten such a beautiful woman. If he would have been an ordinary person a woman like her wouldn’t even had looked at him. Louis XVI wasn’t an ordinary person, almost as far away from an ordinary person that one can come really, and because of that she was sitting there, holding his hand to night.
From the corner of his eye he could see her looking at him, but he was afraid to look back at her, just as when they’d been newlyweds. Back then he had been too shy because she was too beautiful, now he didn’t look at her because he was afraid of getting the blame for everything that had gone wrong in their life; the children who died, all their family and friends in exile, the mob outside, everything. Maybe the first wasn’t his fault, but the rest of it was. If he would have been an ordinary person none of this would have happened. She wouldn’t be sitting by his side, holding his hand. If he would have been an ordinary person she wouldn’t have to go through this.
It wasn’t possible to eat when she held one of his hands; the food was just as delicious as always, but somewhere it lost its taste when the people outside screamed for bread. And their heads. His people were starving and in front of him lay a grilled forest bird. If he would have been an ordinary person he would have been starving and she would not have been sitting next to him.
There were people who didn’t like being watched while they ate. These were ordinary people. Louis XVI had been eating in front of an audience his whole life. It didn’t matter if it had been a real audience or just the servants, but he had never eaten a meal this alone at Versailles. Just to make sure there were other people in the room he raised his free hand and someone ordered more wine for the king. He could do that, lift a finger and get more wine, since he was the king. It amused him sometimes; sometimes he wondered why not all kings got more hubris than they actually had, but tonight, with the angry mob outside screaming, he choose to raise a finger and get more wine.
He moved his hand ever so slightly, let her fingers fall between his own and he held her hand. He knew that the men behind them saw them, but his was king, he didn’t need to care about what they were thinking if he showed physical devotion to his wife that might be a bit to vulgar for the etiquette his grandfather and great great great grandfather had invented. He didn’t like them, either of them. Tough to nigh he would have given a lot to be dauphin again. At least he had her. She had been sitting beside him from his very first day as king. It didn’t matter what she had done between that dinner and the one they were eating know. He loved her and knew he didn’t deserve her. Far from it. He just wished she had been happy for a while. How ever short. He really hoped she had been happy and that she would find a way to be it again, God knew she deserved it.
At last he looked at her. Very slowly he turned his had and met her eyes. Her beautiful eyes. He would have liked to be able to smile at her, to give her a small, small smile just to ensure her that he would make everything right again and that she wouldn’t ever have to be afraid again. He would have liked to be able to give her at least that. In exchange for the hand he had in his and the support she always gave him. If he would have been a better person he would have sent her and the children away with the rest. With his brothers. To Austria. To Holland. To Italy. To where ever they had gone. But he was so moved by her will to stay by his side that he couldn’t make himself convince her to go. She was his best friend, she was his life partner, she was the mother to his children, sometimes she was his mistress, sometimes she was his daydreams or his headaches, but she was always his queen and trusted companion. He imagined that her eyes said that he was more to her than a duty and he let himself believe it because he needed to.
He was filled with words he wanted to say, so many things that he suddenly felt she needed to know, but this was not the place, this was not the time. Maybe they would have other opportunities to speak more freely than over dinner and then he might tell her how much he appreciated that she touched his hand while the crowed was shouting that they would storm the castle and kill them all. Without a word or a smile he looked away from her and let go of her hand to be able to finish the meal.
At dinner that day he had two more glasses of wine than he usually had. Over and over again he needed to remind himself that he was the king and not an ordinary person. Because if he had been an ordinary person than he wouldn’t have her by his side and than he wouldn’t be half the man he was. If he would have been an ordinary person, if he just had been an ordinary person, if he would have been than she wouldn’t have to go through this. If he just had been a better king, than he would have had her by his side and they still wouldn’t have to go through this.
She touched his hand, she grounded him in reality. She touched his hand and suddenly the world became a little bit brighter. She always had that effect on him, on everyone actually. Everyone who knew her or just got a glimpse of her. Even the people outside, screaming for their heads, got their world lit by her. If he would have been an ordinary person he would never had gotten such a beautiful woman. If he would have been an ordinary person a woman like her wouldn’t even had looked at him. Louis XVI wasn’t an ordinary person, almost as far away from an ordinary person that one can come really, and because of that she was sitting there, holding his hand to night.
From the corner of his eye he could see her looking at him, but he was afraid to look back at her, just as when they’d been newlyweds. Back then he had been too shy because she was too beautiful, now he didn’t look at her because he was afraid of getting the blame for everything that had gone wrong in their life; the children who died, all their family and friends in exile, the mob outside, everything. Maybe the first wasn’t his fault, but the rest of it was. If he would have been an ordinary person none of this would have happened. She wouldn’t be sitting by his side, holding his hand. If he would have been an ordinary person she wouldn’t have to go through this.
It wasn’t possible to eat when she held one of his hands; the food was just as delicious as always, but somewhere it lost its taste when the people outside screamed for bread. And their heads. His people were starving and in front of him lay a grilled forest bird. If he would have been an ordinary person he would have been starving and she would not have been sitting next to him.
There were people who didn’t like being watched while they ate. These were ordinary people. Louis XVI had been eating in front of an audience his whole life. It didn’t matter if it had been a real audience or just the servants, but he had never eaten a meal this alone at Versailles. Just to make sure there were other people in the room he raised his free hand and someone ordered more wine for the king. He could do that, lift a finger and get more wine, since he was the king. It amused him sometimes; sometimes he wondered why not all kings got more hubris than they actually had, but tonight, with the angry mob outside screaming, he choose to raise a finger and get more wine.
He moved his hand ever so slightly, let her fingers fall between his own and he held her hand. He knew that the men behind them saw them, but his was king, he didn’t need to care about what they were thinking if he showed physical devotion to his wife that might be a bit to vulgar for the etiquette his grandfather and great great great grandfather had invented. He didn’t like them, either of them. Tough to nigh he would have given a lot to be dauphin again. At least he had her. She had been sitting beside him from his very first day as king. It didn’t matter what she had done between that dinner and the one they were eating know. He loved her and knew he didn’t deserve her. Far from it. He just wished she had been happy for a while. How ever short. He really hoped she had been happy and that she would find a way to be it again, God knew she deserved it.
At last he looked at her. Very slowly he turned his had and met her eyes. Her beautiful eyes. He would have liked to be able to smile at her, to give her a small, small smile just to ensure her that he would make everything right again and that she wouldn’t ever have to be afraid again. He would have liked to be able to give her at least that. In exchange for the hand he had in his and the support she always gave him. If he would have been a better person he would have sent her and the children away with the rest. With his brothers. To Austria. To Holland. To Italy. To where ever they had gone. But he was so moved by her will to stay by his side that he couldn’t make himself convince her to go. She was his best friend, she was his life partner, she was the mother to his children, sometimes she was his mistress, sometimes she was his daydreams or his headaches, but she was always his queen and trusted companion. He imagined that her eyes said that he was more to her than a duty and he let himself believe it because he needed to.
He was filled with words he wanted to say, so many things that he suddenly felt she needed to know, but this was not the place, this was not the time. Maybe they would have other opportunities to speak more freely than over dinner and then he might tell her how much he appreciated that she touched his hand while the crowed was shouting that they would storm the castle and kill them all. Without a word or a smile he looked away from her and let go of her hand to be able to finish the meal.
At dinner that day he had two more glasses of wine than he usually had. Over and over again he needed to remind himself that he was the king and not an ordinary person. Because if he had been an ordinary person than he wouldn’t have her by his side and than he wouldn’t be half the man he was. If he would have been an ordinary person, if he just had been an ordinary person, if he would have been than she wouldn’t have to go through this. If he just had been a better king, than he would have had her by his side and they still wouldn’t have to go through this.
