Remembrance, chapter 4
May. 1st, 2018 10:23 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
scripsiWriting and sewing is the only thing working for me, right now.
Title: Remembrance
Fandom: Versailles
Rating: Explicit
Chapter: 4/?
Word Count: 1227
Characters Sophie de Clermont, Fabien Marchal, Claudine Masson??, Duc de Cassel
Pairings: Fabien Marchal/Sophie de Clermont, Fabien Marchal/Claudine Masson
Warnings: Non-con and abuse, which reference events in the show. Rape recovery. Suicidial thoughts.
Summary: Sophie de Clermont has fled Versailles, with nowhere to go and only her memories for company.
The whole fic on AO3
The fresh air brought energy to Sophie’s steps, but the memories followed her out. After being repressed for so long she could no longer escape them. She had hated and feared Cassel since the first day of their marriage, but Sophie had suffered his abuse of months before she had grown desperate enough to try to free herself. And though she hated to think of it, she remembered far too well what had brought her to that point.
”And do you know what the funny thing was?”
Sophie looked at her husband with revulsion. He enjoyed talking to her after he had forced himself on her, telling her about the unhappy women and girls who had suffered him relishing in her distress over those tales. Reluctantly Sophie shook her head. She didn’t want to know more about this poor serving girl Cassel had raped, but he would tell her anyway, and it was better for her if she engaged when he demanded her to.
“The funny thing was that she was almost certainly my daughter.” Cassel laughed, and soon after he was snoring. Sophie stayed awake long after, sick to her stomach of what she had been told. When she finally fell asleep, her slumber was not peaceful. She dreamt a young girl was standing in front of her. A lovely girl with dark curls and pretty features, so close to her own. Sophie’s heart filled with love, and she reached out her arms, but the girl backed away. Her mouth was swollen and her dress torn, and the look she gave Sophie was full of accusations.
“Why didn’t you protect me, mother? Why didn’t you keep me safe?”
Sophie woke up with a pounding heart. Cassel was a vile man, but surely his depravity would not extend to his own flesh and blood? Only it already had and Sophie felt certain he would not stop only because a child was born into a marriage. So far she had not thought of children apart from feeling relieved every time her monthly bleeding returned. She didn’t want Cassel’s children, but she had never thought of their fate if they were born. The throat frightened her; she was sure she would not be allowed any decisions regarding their upbringing. Daughters who would be raised to be cattle and sons who no doubt would be encouraged to become like their father; cruel and callous.
Sophie shuddered at the thought. She quietly slipped out of the bed and fell to her knees to pray for guidance and strength. But she found no solace in her prayers; she could only think of all those women and girls who had had no protection against Cassel. Like Sophie herself. But what if she was the last one? The only way she could save any child of her’s was to make certain Cassel could beget no with her. If he was dead, then Sophie would be free, and he would hurt no one else.
It was a terrible idea. A sinful, wicked idea. In the morning Sophie regretted it, but day by day her life became even more unbearable, and one day she found herself in Madame Agathe’s chambers. Her black eyes looked like polished stones, hard and shining, and she saw everything. Every bad, immoral thought Sophie had had, and then she offered help. It was not brought by kindness or concern, but Sophie took the help. She felt oddly at home with Madame Agathe, but only later did she realise the woman had the same look in her eyes as her mother had had.
At first, it was such a relief when the poison rendered Cassel unable to rape her. He tried and then hit her when his body failed him, but soon he grew weaker, and the blows came with no strength behind them before they stopped altogether. It remained a relief until the day Sophie came upon Cassel as he bent double, his body shaking from a racking cough. When he looked up at her she saw the blood on his lips, fear in his eyes, and she knew he was dying. And it was all because of her. Sophie had wished him dead so many times, but now she could feel no triumph. Despite the hate and fear he had instilled in her, there was no happiness in success.
Guilt nagged at her. If it could only continue like this, it would be enough. Sophie detested sleeping beside his stinking body, but as long as he let her be, she could endure. If he lived like this, weak and unable to harm her, then he didn’t need to die. And she wouldn’t be a murderess. Sophie threw away the poison, and buried the small bottle in the garden, despite Madame Agathe telling her it was too late. She tended to Cassel, who seemed puzzled over the care he had not earned, but he never suspected his illness was caused by Sophie. But he declined increasingly, and Sophie knew her actions had changed nothing.
Thomas had been the only happiness Sophie got during that time. In his arms, she felt something, a longing she recognised from Benoit’s kisses and caresses. But no matter how eager she felt, there was always a point where her body froze. The building pleasure disappeared, and it was all she could do to not break away from the embrace. Thomas never noticed, and Sophie said nothing. After all, she loved him, and he was nothing like Cassel. He could not know of her inability to have any enjoyment out of their lovemaking.
Sophie had walked without purpose, but now she found herself at the river which ran through the small town she had taken refuge in. A stone bridge connected the both sides, and she walked to its highest point. Leaning against the low stone railing, Sophie looked down in the streaming water. It was a mesmerising sight; she leaned even further down. If she fell she would disappear quickly, carried away by the stream. Sophie was not a strong swimmer, she would drown quickly. And would that be so bad? It was a grave sin to end your life, but she had sinned so much already. It would be a relief to not carry those burdens for years and years but instead meet her judgement now. Sophie shifted, feeling her balance growing closer to tip her over the edge. Only a bit more, and she would fall, and it would be over. Unable to move, Sophie stared down as time moved to a stop and she saw and heard nothing else but the water cascades below..
Then a hand closed around her arm and broke the spell. Sophie tumbled forward and for one breathless second, she thought she was falling. Then she was brusquely and painfully yanked back. Panic filled her, Sophie tried to scream but fear made her throat constrict so no sound came from her lips. She tried to twist free, convinced by the painful grip it Cassel who, somehow, was still alive and had come for her. In a flurry of uselessly flailing limbs she was pulled away from the bridge, but when she looked up at the man holding her it was not the watery blue eyes of her husband she saw, but the piercing brown of Fabien Marchal.
Title: Remembrance
Fandom: Versailles
Rating: Explicit
Chapter: 4/?
Word Count: 1227
Characters Sophie de Clermont, Fabien Marchal, Claudine Masson??, Duc de Cassel
Pairings: Fabien Marchal/Sophie de Clermont, Fabien Marchal/Claudine Masson
Warnings: Non-con and abuse, which reference events in the show. Rape recovery. Suicidial thoughts.
Summary: Sophie de Clermont has fled Versailles, with nowhere to go and only her memories for company.
The whole fic on AO3
The fresh air brought energy to Sophie’s steps, but the memories followed her out. After being repressed for so long she could no longer escape them. She had hated and feared Cassel since the first day of their marriage, but Sophie had suffered his abuse of months before she had grown desperate enough to try to free herself. And though she hated to think of it, she remembered far too well what had brought her to that point.
”And do you know what the funny thing was?”
Sophie looked at her husband with revulsion. He enjoyed talking to her after he had forced himself on her, telling her about the unhappy women and girls who had suffered him relishing in her distress over those tales. Reluctantly Sophie shook her head. She didn’t want to know more about this poor serving girl Cassel had raped, but he would tell her anyway, and it was better for her if she engaged when he demanded her to.
“The funny thing was that she was almost certainly my daughter.” Cassel laughed, and soon after he was snoring. Sophie stayed awake long after, sick to her stomach of what she had been told. When she finally fell asleep, her slumber was not peaceful. She dreamt a young girl was standing in front of her. A lovely girl with dark curls and pretty features, so close to her own. Sophie’s heart filled with love, and she reached out her arms, but the girl backed away. Her mouth was swollen and her dress torn, and the look she gave Sophie was full of accusations.
“Why didn’t you protect me, mother? Why didn’t you keep me safe?”
Sophie woke up with a pounding heart. Cassel was a vile man, but surely his depravity would not extend to his own flesh and blood? Only it already had and Sophie felt certain he would not stop only because a child was born into a marriage. So far she had not thought of children apart from feeling relieved every time her monthly bleeding returned. She didn’t want Cassel’s children, but she had never thought of their fate if they were born. The throat frightened her; she was sure she would not be allowed any decisions regarding their upbringing. Daughters who would be raised to be cattle and sons who no doubt would be encouraged to become like their father; cruel and callous.
Sophie shuddered at the thought. She quietly slipped out of the bed and fell to her knees to pray for guidance and strength. But she found no solace in her prayers; she could only think of all those women and girls who had had no protection against Cassel. Like Sophie herself. But what if she was the last one? The only way she could save any child of her’s was to make certain Cassel could beget no with her. If he was dead, then Sophie would be free, and he would hurt no one else.
It was a terrible idea. A sinful, wicked idea. In the morning Sophie regretted it, but day by day her life became even more unbearable, and one day she found herself in Madame Agathe’s chambers. Her black eyes looked like polished stones, hard and shining, and she saw everything. Every bad, immoral thought Sophie had had, and then she offered help. It was not brought by kindness or concern, but Sophie took the help. She felt oddly at home with Madame Agathe, but only later did she realise the woman had the same look in her eyes as her mother had had.
At first, it was such a relief when the poison rendered Cassel unable to rape her. He tried and then hit her when his body failed him, but soon he grew weaker, and the blows came with no strength behind them before they stopped altogether. It remained a relief until the day Sophie came upon Cassel as he bent double, his body shaking from a racking cough. When he looked up at her she saw the blood on his lips, fear in his eyes, and she knew he was dying. And it was all because of her. Sophie had wished him dead so many times, but now she could feel no triumph. Despite the hate and fear he had instilled in her, there was no happiness in success.
Guilt nagged at her. If it could only continue like this, it would be enough. Sophie detested sleeping beside his stinking body, but as long as he let her be, she could endure. If he lived like this, weak and unable to harm her, then he didn’t need to die. And she wouldn’t be a murderess. Sophie threw away the poison, and buried the small bottle in the garden, despite Madame Agathe telling her it was too late. She tended to Cassel, who seemed puzzled over the care he had not earned, but he never suspected his illness was caused by Sophie. But he declined increasingly, and Sophie knew her actions had changed nothing.
Thomas had been the only happiness Sophie got during that time. In his arms, she felt something, a longing she recognised from Benoit’s kisses and caresses. But no matter how eager she felt, there was always a point where her body froze. The building pleasure disappeared, and it was all she could do to not break away from the embrace. Thomas never noticed, and Sophie said nothing. After all, she loved him, and he was nothing like Cassel. He could not know of her inability to have any enjoyment out of their lovemaking.
Sophie had walked without purpose, but now she found herself at the river which ran through the small town she had taken refuge in. A stone bridge connected the both sides, and she walked to its highest point. Leaning against the low stone railing, Sophie looked down in the streaming water. It was a mesmerising sight; she leaned even further down. If she fell she would disappear quickly, carried away by the stream. Sophie was not a strong swimmer, she would drown quickly. And would that be so bad? It was a grave sin to end your life, but she had sinned so much already. It would be a relief to not carry those burdens for years and years but instead meet her judgement now. Sophie shifted, feeling her balance growing closer to tip her over the edge. Only a bit more, and she would fall, and it would be over. Unable to move, Sophie stared down as time moved to a stop and she saw and heard nothing else but the water cascades below..
Then a hand closed around her arm and broke the spell. Sophie tumbled forward and for one breathless second, she thought she was falling. Then she was brusquely and painfully yanked back. Panic filled her, Sophie tried to scream but fear made her throat constrict so no sound came from her lips. She tried to twist free, convinced by the painful grip it Cassel who, somehow, was still alive and had come for her. In a flurry of uselessly flailing limbs she was pulled away from the bridge, but when she looked up at the man holding her it was not the watery blue eyes of her husband she saw, but the piercing brown of Fabien Marchal.
