Chapter Text
My name is Cleo. Cleo ALix. I’m not supposed to be here. I'm supposed to be at home with the other orphans. Or under the tree pretending to be reading my book. Not being appointed in charge of the country of France. It’s not my fault the king is a wuss. Why should I have to deal with the country!? I’m nineteen! But here I am. In front of the Duke of Orleans, and some other dude next to me, Jacques. I hate Jacques. I'm in an uncomfortable tail coat, undershirt, jacket, and fancy gloves. I hate it here.
The old king, Louis, apparently couldn't run the country without sending it into ruin and destroying everything. So he stepped down and found the first unwanted orphan he saw and let him be king. Dumb idea, I know.
“-France is in ruin!” Jacques screams
“We know, Jacques” I scream back. Why did he think we were here? To sit around like France has been since the French and Indian war!? Jacques thinks he’s the best thinker since Voltaire. I could write better than him, and I’m illiterate!
Everyone looked at me. This is the first time I’ve said something the whole meeting.
The Duke of Orleans, a man named LaBeau, speaks up
“Your highness-”
“Call me Cleo.”
“Ok….cleo…”
Then Jacques spoke up. I really wish he didn’t.
“Cleo-” Jacques started
“Your highness.” I corrected him. Everyone could call me what they pleased. Except for Jacques.
He was the one signing all the taxation laws.
He was the one making the people of France’s lives miserable.
Making my life miserable.
Making my mother work herself to death day after day.
And tomorrow morning?
Wash.
Rinse.
Repeat.
Anywhooooo, let’s do one of those self introduction thingies.
Hi! I’m Cleo. I’m an orphan, since my dad died in the American revolution and my mom worked herself to death in a field working to pay off debts. My favorite colors are pastel orange and sky blue.
With that out of the way, here’s the rest of the story.
I argued with those men ‘til one of the house maids came in.
“Monsuir Cleo? There's a revolutionary here to speak to you about the people of France’s demands” with a report.
“King Alix, there is a visitor,” she said. ‘One of the revolutionaries with the ‘demands of the people’ here to converse with you and the dukes.."
“You mean one of those uneducated bums from the tennis court!?” Jacques shouted out like it was the most ridiculous thing ever mentioned.
I purely ignored him and focused on the kind maid in front of me. “Let him in. It's only right the heads of power in this country talk with a member of that wonderful committee. It's practically France's honorary second government at this point.”
I guess that ticked off a lot of those dukes.
“No, it can't be. Then they will rise and cause anarchy I tell you, Anarchy!” LaBeau shouted to the room, panicking. What. a. Coward.
“My god, LaBeau. Can you quit fretting for five precious minutes?” said one of the dukes with a name so fancy I don't think any of us could pronounce it, so we all just called him ‘BirdBrain’ for his weird obsession with birds.
“Who the devil do you think you are, letting in one of those buffoons from that god forsaken committee!?’ Jacques called out.
“Me?” I said, already loving where this conversation was going. “Who do I think I am?”
He nodded his head.
“I’m the king of France. I out rank you in this messed up system of an absolute monarchy, you worthless fly. You're some stuck up duke no one off the streets of Paris would know.
I am France.”
Dead silence.
I won.
For once, I won.
I turned to the house maid who had come in earlier.
“Tell the representative to come back tomorrow. I'm too tired from Jacques whining.”
I (figuratively) spat out at her, before I (actually) spat on Jacques.
Sure, historians in three hundred years will call it immodest and disgusting, but I've seen many of the rich do that to the ‘maggots’ of society, and if I know a social maggot, it's Jacques.
The dukes went home, and I went back to my quarters in a white long sleeved dress shirt and baggy pants.
Three words rang through my head.
Liberté. Égalité. Fraternité.
Liberty. Equality. Fraternity.