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jesatria · 4 years ago

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Fic: Simple Pleasures, Chap 9

Title: Simple Pleasures Fandom: Kushiel’s Legacy Characters: Isidore d’Aiglemort, Anne Livet Pairings: Isidore/Anne Word Count: 5,130 Rating: NC-17 Summary: The story of Isidore d’Aiglemort & the gardener’s daughter of Lombelon. WIP. Disclaimer: I do not own Kushiel’s Legacy. This is only for fun & no profit is being made from it.

Previous Chapters:

1. The Visit

2. Desire

3. The Harvest Festival

4. Triumph

5. Gifts

6. The Eagle Unbound

7. Lighting the Candle

8. The Longest Night

Chapter 9: The Final Parting

I didn’t mind being with child.

Other women hated it, I came to understand. Between the monthly courses brought on by lighting the candle and the many pains and discomforts childbearing women were forced to endure, I understood why some wished Eisheth would close their wombs. Mayhap I would feel that way in time, after I’d borne more than one child, but not now. That isn’t to say I enjoyed the vomiting or back pain, but those things were not enough to detract from my happiness. I had chosen this. I wanted this child, our child. Early summer couldn’t come soon enough.

It was extremely difficult to bid Isidore farewell when he left. Spring was in the air, a time when I’d normally rejoice at the first green shoots to poke through the thawing ground. This time I’d spent the better part of the winter with him and thus it was much harder to see him go. War was coming. We did not speak of it; I sensed he was reluctant to do so. At first I thought he didn’t want to spoil the occasion of our first Longest Night together, but it continued for the duration of his visit. I came to suspect his reluctance was due to my condition, never mind that I was hardly some delicate flower to faint at the mention of war. I suppose he meant to spare me the stress that was sure to follow if I knew the details. Regardless, he told me enough that I understood this was far more serious than the usual border raids. The Skaldi found a leader to unite them and they meant to invade. I’d learned enough from Isidore over the years to know he kept the border forts well-garrisoned and watched the passes closely. Surely that would be enough to hold off an invasion along with the Royal Army. Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling of apprehension that rose in me whenever I thought of Isidore on the border. It was the only thing that spoiled my happiness.

Bit by bit I grew used to my new status. I didn’t miss the more tedious of my chores, such as cleaning the manor. No longer being responsible for my share of that meant I could pursue other things. The quilt was one of them. It was my first time making one entirely on my own—my previous experience had been working alongside the other women making quilts for the household. It was true that I hardly needed to make one myself for our child, who wouldn’t lack for blankets, but I wanted a child of my body to have somewhat made with care by me. I’d made shirts for Isidore for the same reason. In time I would make clothing for our child too.

With the arrival of spring, I returned to the gardens. It was the first time I’d done so since becoming lady of the manor. I could’ve hired a gardener to tend to the gardens according to my specifications, but I chose not to. The gardens had been my father’s charge for as long as I could remember and I was not about to give them over to another.

“Are you certain you ought to be doing that in your condition?” a familiar voice asked. I looked up from the lavender bed to see Marcel, evidently deciding to stop for a chat on his way to the orchard.

“Thank you for your concern, but this is hardly taxing.” I was far enough along now that my condition was quite apparent. I’d even had to make myself some new dresses and alter others to accommodate it.

“You’re sure? Because I doubt d’Aiglemort would want you overexerting yourself.”

“I’m quite sure, Marcel. I’ll stop if I feel tired or ill.”

He knelt down until he was level with me. “Do you think you’ll have much time for gardening once he makes you his consort and you’re a mother?”

“I certainly intend to make time, whatever happens,” I replied. Mayhap I could tend to the gardens at the townhouse Isidore offered to buy me. That would be my one requirement—I certainly didn’t need anything fancy. The prospect of being able to design and plan my gardens, not merely choose what I planted in plots laid out by someone else, was an exciting one.

Somewhat softened in Marcel’s face. “I’ll miss you once you’re gone, you know.”

I smiled. “I know, and I’ll miss you too. But you know I won’t be gone all the time. I love this place too much not to spend a portion of my time here.”

“That’s good to know. Still, I’ll miss you.”

After Marcel left, I let my thoughts wander. They were wont to take familiar paths these days. I couldn’t help wondering what our child will be like. Isidore wanted a son he could teach Camael’s Arts, but I had no preference. Boy or girl, I meant to teach our child to appreciate growing things as I did. Mayhap our child might even join me when I worked in the gardens. I would make sure the L’Agnacite heritage wasn’t lost beneath the Camaeline. I hoped the child would have Isidore’s beautiful hair. In my mind’s eye, I could see a girl who looked like me but for the silver hair or a boy who was the spitting image of his father.

The first buds were just opening on the trees when Isidore returned to Lombelon. I could tell right away that he was not himself. He was tense, though his face brightened at the sight of me. “Somewhat’s bothering you, I can tell,” I said once we’d settled into the privacy of the master suite. “Care to tell me?”

He looked away. “It’s nothing, Anne, just the impending invasion. Soon enough the passes will be free of snow and the Skaldi will be upon us. I cannot stay here long, but I had to see you again. You are well, I hope?”

“Yes, aside from the common complaints of a woman with child.” I laid a hand on my stomach. “I’m managing just fine, though I have to admit I’m quite ready for the birth.”

“We are into spring now. The start of summer is not so very far away.”

“No, and yet time moves so slowly. Have you thought much about our child, what it might be like?”

He pursed his lips, considering the question. “I have, yes.”

“Personally I’m hoping it has your hair.”

An amused expression came over his face. “Have you now?”

“Of course. It’s beautiful.”

“I’ll freely admit it’s my only vanity. So yes, I’ve also imagined our child inheriting my hair,” he answered, grinning.

“Blessed Elua let it be so,” I said with a smile. “You are still hoping for a son?”

“Yes, though I’d be willing to teach our daughter Camael’s Arts if she’d a mind to learn. Truth be told, I can’t see any child of mine not being drawn to the sword.”

“Is that how it was for you?”

He nodded. “I started learning around the time I was learning to read. I can still remember how it felt, the first time I picked up a practice sword. Somewhat inside of me cried out in happiness at how right it felt.”

“That’s quite young to begin, is it not? I imagined you started at age ten, as the Cassiline Brothers do.”

“Not in Camlach. I don’t know how it is in the other provinces, but it is common for Camaeline peers to begin training at such a young age,” he replied. I suppose that made sense if you were born to wield a sword.

“Is it the same for the girls?”

“I cannot say. I never had a sister, or indeed any close female friends until I went to the Shahrizai. If I had to guess, I’d say they begin later. Camaeline women don’t take to the battlefield, but they are expected to defend themselves.”

Try as I might, I had a hard time picturing a noblewoman, even a Camaeline one, wielding a sword. “Do they carry swords as men do?”

Isidore chuckled. “Some of them might. They certainly own them and bear them as needed. Camaeline noblewomen will defend themselves and their castles at need.”

I’d never heard of any D’Angeline woman doing such a thing. It certainly wasn’t done in L’Agnace. “Would I be expected to do that?”

He was quiet for a moment before answering. “Camael willing, there will be no more Skaldi attacks for some time after I deal with them and you’ll not need to concern yourself with such matters. The Camaelines won’t expect a gardener from L’Agnace to know how to defend a castle.”

I let out a big sigh “Well that’s a relief!”

“You are no Camaeline. They’ll notice that, as surely as everyone here can see I’m no L’Agnacite.”

“I could tell the moment I set eyes on you, though I was quite preoccupied with how beautiful you are.”

“Were you indeed?”

“I was.”

“Well, I wish I could say I noticed you when I first arrived, but I didn’t. There was much to take in. You only caught my attention when you brought me that first bottle of pear brandy.”

“We owe a debt of gratitude to Thèrese, for choosing to send me up with that brandy,” I replied, leaning my head against his shoulder.

We spoke of names for the first time that night. I lay propped up in bed, a stack of pillows behind my back, while Isidore rubbed oil onto my belly. The motion of his hands soon soothed me so much that I began to doze.

“I had a thought about names.” His voice startled me into alertness.

“Oh?” I hadn’t given the topic much thought, for all the time I’d spent imagining what our child would be like.

“If we should have a son, I’d like to name him Maslin.”

“A pretty name. I like it.” He gave me a small smile in response. “Maslin was your father’s name, was it not?”

“Yes. I thought we might follow tradition.”

The babe moved at his words as if in agreement. “That would be good. If we have a daughter, we could name her Louise after my mother.”

For a moment I thought he might insist a daughter be named after his mother, but he didn’t. Instead all he said was, “Louise d’Aiglemort? That does have a certain flow to it.”

“Well, there’s that decided. Maslin for a boy; Louise for a girl,” I remarked. He continued to massage me and I closed my eyes in contentment. He’d rubbed my feet earlier in the evening, which I greatly appreciated. Any relief from the aches and pains that came with my condition were quite welcome.

“You look as content as can be,” Isidore observed.

“I am. The only thing that could make me happier would be you staying here until the birth.”

“You know I cannot do that, much as I wish I could.”

“Yes, but I can’t help wishing it was so,” I replied.

He ceased his rubbing and moved to lie beside me. “I will do whatever I can to be here for the birth,” he said gently, black eyes softening as he met my gaze. “I cannot promise more than that, and there is a real possibility that I will fail.”

My hopes deflated at his words. Every time I’d imagined giving birth he was beside me, despite knowing he was needed to deal with the Skaldi. I’d held that hope since I discovered I was with child and it died hard. Isidore saw the disappointment in my face and laid a hand on my belly. “I will not make false promises to you, Anne. All I can promise is that I will try. The Skaldi will be defeated by then, Camael willing.”

“Camael willing.”

We spoke more about the future the next day. Isidore was due to leave the day after that and we were determined to spend as much time together as we could. Despite his assurances, the impending Skaldi invasion lingered in my mind. This was rather more serious than the border raids he’d spoken of previously. What would happen if the Skaldi were able to breach the border defenses? I shuddered at the thought of a horde of barbarians raping, pillaging, and plundering their way across Terre d’Ange. These fears I mostly kept to myself, not wanting to mar our time together. It was the last time I would see him before the invasion, and I did not want it filled with talk of coming war.

It was a chilly spring day, cold enough to warrant wearing a cloak when walking outside. We walked together in the orchard, where the laborers who tended the trees could be seen here and there going about their work. It was chilly enough that the sun peeking through the clouds gave little warmth. Beside the buds on the trees, here and there green shoots poked their way through the earth. I’d always loved spring. It was heartening to see the first bits of green coming up after months of winter. Yet I did not feel that way this spring, rare for a L’Agnacite and unheard of for a gardener.

“I’ve been giving some thought to matters of inheritance,” Isidore began, “I know very well how deeply you love Lombelon and it seems fitting that our child should inherit it.”

“Elua willing, our child will love Lombelon as much as I do.” The babe was half-L’Agnacite, after all, and surely that wouldn’t all vanish beneath the Camaeline heritage.

“Indeed, I cannot imagine any child of ours not inheriting your L’Agnacite love of the land,” he replied, amused.

“Neither can I,” I said with a grin, “for I do not mean to let our child be ignorant of that part of its heritage. What of your other estates? Would our child inherit them as well?”

He took a moment to consider the question. “Mayhap. We shall see.”

“Because politics may demand you marry some noblewoman?”

“Yes. You do understand that such a marriage would not mean me casting you aside?”

I nodded. “I know well enough how you feel about me to be certain that wouldn’t be the case.”

He took my hand in his and ran a calloused thumb over it. “You are first in my heart, now and always. No future wife of mine will ever come between us. And if it transpires that I need not marry for politics, I would be pleased to have our child succeed me as Duc or Duchese d’Aiglemort.”

My child, ruling a province. “That would be… a great honor.” In truth I cared very little about such things. Our child inheriting Lombelon meant more to me than becoming a Duc or Duchese. That a child of my blood would inherit the home I loved was so much more than I’d ever dreamed. With that inheritance, my child would be a peer of the Realm. I smiled a little at the thought—not bad for the grandchild of a gardener.

“We shall see but Lombelon, that is certain. I’ll see it done once the babe is born and officially acknowledged by me,” he said. “It is easy enough to change my will and dispose of my estates as I see fit.”

“Do you think you’ll still want to come here often once I am living with you as your consort?” I asked. All this talk of estates had me wondering how much time I’d be spending at Lombelon in the future.

“We can come here as often as you like,” Isidore replied, “and you would be welcome to come here without me if you so desired. I’ll not expect you to remain at my side wherever I go. I doubt you’d enjoy the border fortifications.”

“No, I daresay I would not. I recall you once telling me there were almost no women to be found there, not even Servants of Naamah.”

“There’s little in the way of comfort to be found. Hardly a place I’d take my consort, even with the border perfectly quiet and peaceful.”

This talk of the border brought the fears I’d tried to bury back to the surface. “Will it be a long campaign, do you think?”

He looked away, taking time to consider his answer. “I am hopeful that it will be. The combined might of the Allies of Camlach and the Royal Army should suffice to drive back the Skaldi.” There was a note of tension in his voice that hadn’t been there before; I suspected he was more worried about the battle to come than he was letting on, not wanting me to worry overmuch. Well, it was too late for that now. My worry must’ve shown on my face, for he gave my hand a squeeze of reassurance and stroked my cheek gently. He said nothing; there was nothing to say on this matter that hadn’t been said already.

Did I know, then, what was to come? I did not. All I had was a nagging worry, born of what he’d told me of the Skaldi. I suppose many women have felt the same when their lovers have gone off to war. It is my own misfortune that those worries would prove to be horribly correct, and in ways I couldn’t have begun to imagine. That last day we spent together became all the more precious. I was for enough gone with child by then that long walks tired me, so we returned to the manor after a short walk through the gardens and nearest orchard. Instead we retired to the manor, where we passed the rest of the day in quiet companionship, savoring each other’s presence. Things had progressed to the point where simply being together was enough. That being said, we were certain to make good use of what we both knew would be our last night together for some time. It would indeed prove to be our last together, but for a far longer time than either of us anticipated.

We took our time that night, hands exploring each other’s bodies as if for the first time. The feel of his calloused hands on me never failed to stir my desire, and this was no exception. Isidore took the lead, as he’d done every night of this visit, and I was content to lie on the plush pillows and let him pleasure me. He moved slowly with the languisement, licking and sucking until I thought I might die of pleasure. With me now so far gone with child, he insisted that I relax and let him take over. I was more than happy to do so. That never lost its appeal for me, who’d been a servant for so long, being serviced by another.

The Trois Milles Joies lists positions considered most comfortable for a woman with child. We’d already sampled a few on this visit. After he brought me to the peak of arousal for a second time, I turned on my side and spread my legs. My foot came to rest on Isidore’s shoulder as he situated himself between my legs. He moved as slowly as he had with everything else that night. I closed my eyes and savored the feeling of him inside me, of his hand gripping my thigh. I almost didn’t want my climax to come so I might remain in that moment. But come it did, for I could not preserve the night forever. Later we lay closely together, both of us spent and satisfied. I lay on my side, with him pressed up close against my back, one arm thrown protectively over my stomach.

The morning came too soon.

Since being relieved of my servant duties, I’d taken to lingering longer in bed than I would have otherwise, even when Isidore wasn’t there. This morning was no exception. If I remained in bed, perhaps the day wouldn’t begin and Isidore wouldn’t leave me. I wondered if he felt the same, for he did not rise as early as he usually did. After some minutes had passed, I felt him move off the bed. I turned to watch as he dressed, fixing the image of his perfect body in my mind. I never tired of looking at him, especially when he was unclothed. He was well-aware of it too, and I swear he would deliberately take his time dressing for my enjoyment. This was not one of those times, much to my dismay. There was naught for me to do then but rise and don my own clothes.

Isidore handed me a small wooden box once I’d finished dressing. “A gift for you. Since I’ll not be here for your birthday, I thought I might give it to you now.”

I opened it to find a delicate snowdrop pendant on a silver chain. The white flower was inlaid with pearl and the green stem set with emeralds. “Oh!” No one had ever given me such a valuable gift, and I found myself at a loss for words.

“You told me you’d like to see snowdrops.” His voice was soft. “This will have to do until I can take you with me to Camlach.”

I slipped the necklace over my head. The chain was long enough that there was no need to undo the clasp. It came to rest just above my breasts. “It’s beautiful. I will wear it and think of you until we are reunited.”

We left the bedchamber and walked into the sitting room. A meal waited for us on the table. I immediately spread jam on a thick slice of baguette and took a bite. I was well-accustomed by now to the increases in appetite brought on by my condition. Even so, I was a bit surprised to find myself still hungry after finishing my meal. Indeed, the meal passed all too quickly and there was no more delaying the inevitable.

I met Isidore in the courtyard to bid him farewell, as was our custom. A few other members of the household were present, as were his men in their familiar black-and-silver livery, but we might’ve been alone for all the attention I paid them. It was a clear spring day, with a hint of winter’s chill yet in the air. He pulled me into his arms and kissed me softly. “Return to me,” I breathed once we’d separated, resting my head against his chest, “return to me and see our child born.”

“I have every intention of doing so,” he said, stroking my hair with a gloved hand. “If I should not return… I left you enough coin to keep you and the babe for a while. You will name it as we discussed?”

“Yes. Maslin for a boy; Louise for a girl.”

“Very good.” I leaned my cheek against the rich velvet of his doublet; his hand moved to rest on my back. “Anne, I want you to know that though it is unlikely I’ll be able to write much, you will be in my thoughts every day we are parted.” His voice was thick with emotion. “Every soldier knows there’s nothing quite like the promise of returning home to loved ones to keep him going through the hell of war. I want you to know that I’ll carry the memory of you with me along with the promise of our child and hope they will see me through.”

Tears slid down my cheeks, soaking into his doublet. “Anne.” I lifted my head to look up at him. His black eyes were filled with a terrible love. “Anne, love, please don’t cry. I don’t want my last sight of you before I go to war to be with tears running down your face.” He removed one of his gloves and gently brushed the tears away. That he called me “love” was enough to show the depths of his feelings. He rarely did that.

“That would hardly be a memory to sustain you through the hardships of war,” I replied, giving him a small smile.

He brushed the last of my tears away. “Indeed it would not.”

I stroked his beautiful hair and gave him another kiss. “I trust that will be a better memory.”

“Rest assured that it will.”

We kissed and embraced for a little while longer until the parting could be put off no longer. “I love you,” he said as we separated. “Sometimes I think I haven’t said that as often I should have.”

“It doesn’t matter. I’ve known it in my heart, as you know I love you.”

We parted truly then, and I watched as he mounted his horse, waved to me, and rode down the path to the gate with his men following close behind him. I remained where I was until his distant figure vanished from sight.

I never saw him again.

It is an unfortunate thing that the mind will retain the memories of the worst moments of our lives when we’d much prefer to forget them if we could. I would gladly do without the memory of the day my world came crashing down around me. Spring had come in earnest by then and the pear trees were fully leafed out. Many flowers had already started to bloom. A few weeks had passed since Isidore’s departure and I wondered how he was faring. Surely the mountain passes were open by now and the Skaldi invasion had begun.

I was now in the last weeks of my term. Early summer, the priestess had told me, or mayhap late spring if the babe was minded to come early. With some reluctance I had to cut down on my time in the gardens, as I tried easily. The birth really couldn’t come soon enough. This was my mood, then, when the news arrived.

Lombelon was never starved for news. Close as we were to the City, we heard things. Couriers passed by frequently and would often share news with us. It was one such courier who brought the news that was to devastate me. I was in the upstairs sitting room when he came, working on the quilt. It was very near to completion. The noise downstairs was clearly audible with the door to the room open. I set the quilt aside and rose from my chair, awkward as I now was. I’d made it halfway down the stairs when I heard the news the courier brought.

“The Duc d’Aiglemort has turned traitor to the Crown!”

The words were a dagger to my heart. I gripped the railing tightly as the room seemed almost to spin around me. Isidore, a traitor? Surely not! He always was mindful of his duty to protect the Realm from the Skaldi. I wouldn’t believe it, I couldn’t believe it…

“The Skaldi have invaded through the passes of Camlach, a horde such as has never been seen in recent times!”

He’d been preparing to fend off the invasion by making sure the passes were well-defended. How many times had we spoken of this, and how it was his duty to protect the Realm from the Skaldi. “No,” I heard myself saying, “no. He wouldn’t do that. The Skaldi must’ve broken past the border defenses. They have a strong leader…”

But the courier shook his head. “You are mistaken, Madame. I have just come from the front and heard the news from those who were there.”

“Then they must be mistaken! He’d never let the Skaldi through the passes intentionally!”

“D’Aiglemort left the southern passes lightly defended so the Skaldi could pass through. He meant to use them to claim the throne for himself.” A small crowd had gathered around the courier by now. “But the Skaldi turned on him, and he fled with his army into the mountains.”

I didn’t want to believe it. It was too awful a thing to contemplate, that the man I loved could betray our nation in such a way. Yet the rational part of my mind pointed out that a courier riding to the City had no reason to lie about such a thing. What purpose would he have in making up things about Isidore? It’s true, that part of my mind insisted, otherwise why carry such news to the City? This I understood, even as the rest of me rebelled at it. I was lover to a traitor, carrying a traitor’s child…

My legs seemed to be made of jelly. I clung to the railing so tightly my knuckles were white and sank to my knees, mind reeling. Footsteps sounded on the stairs as some of the crowd noticed me and meant to see that I was unharmed. Hands grabbed my arms and carefully lifted me up; I couldn’t have said whose they were.

“Anne!” someone cried out.

“Quick—she might lose the child!”

I could not say what exactly happened next, only that my head was spinning and the shock of the news rendered me unable to focus on anything else. The next thing I can recall clearly is lying on my bed. I turned my head to see Thèrese sitting in a chair at the bedside, watching me intently. “Thèrese?” I asked, sitting up.

She held up a hand and I settled back down on the pillows. “You’re in shock from what you just heard. You need to rest and steady yourself.”

My hand came to rest on my stomach. Nothing felt out of the ordinary, indeed the babe moved as if in response to my apprehension. I breathed a small sigh of relief. Had I fallen down the stairs, the worst might’ve happened. Thèrese’s gaze moved from my face to my stomach. “I’m so sorry, Anne.”

Everything was a haze. All I could think of was the revelation that Isidore was a traitor. He’d never said anything to me indicating he coveted the throne, not once in the years we’d been lovers. The only time I could recall him showing any sort of ambition when he told me about the triumph he and Baudoin had been grated by the King. Yet it had clearly been growing inside him for years and he’d kept it from me. I had to wonder—how well did I really know him? What else had he kept from me? “Oh Isidore, how could you?” I whispered, turning away from Thèrese. After a few minutes passed, I heard her chair scrape across the floor followed by the sound of her shoes as she walked out of the room. The tears flowed then, as if a dam holding them back had burst.

#kushiel's legacy #simple pleasures #isidore d'aiglemort #anne livet #jesatriafic

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