Book III/Part X: ⚜️XIV⚜️

“En passant, si l'on considère que le Soleil de France s'éclipse à jamais, que tous les charmes de la nature sont ensevelis avec lui dans ce Tombeau, voyant un objet aussi funeste, tu désireras de mourir pour l'amour de celui qui ne confesse que pour un autre: si ce n'est que tu dis en toi-même pour votre consolation, non ce grand Roi n'est pas mort, il ne repose que sous ce tombeau.*”

When we woke up, there was an eerie silence throughout the palace. Even as our valets prepared to dress us for the day, they did so--in silence. The only sounds that could be heard were the rustling of our clothing being handed between the valets. Philippe and I stood still as we were dressed. We somehow knew this was a solemn day, and we acted beyond our years.

We were dressed in silk gowns with embroidered sleeves. Across our shoulders were our blue sashes. Attached to the end was a pendant in the shape of a star. It would be years before I recognized it as the cross of the Order of the Holy Spirit into which we were born as sons of a king. Once our lace falling bands were tied, our valets placed small ermine-lined royal blue mantles covered with little golden fleurs-de-lis around our shoulders.

When we were ready, my chamber doors were opened for Mother. She wore a simple black gown beneath her own mantle. As everyone bowed to her, she stood before us admiringly.

“You look like a king, Louis,” she said. “Your father would be proud of both of you. Shall we go?”

We nodded as she took our hands and walked between us out of my chamber and down the hall. The nobles lined the halls and bowed to us as we walked toward the main doors. Once outside, the royal carriages awaited us. More servants stood in the Court of Honor and paid obeisance as we passed. As we approached our carriage, I saw Mazarin waiting.

“You’re Majesties,” he began as he bowed. “Your Highness.”

We said nothing. As the footmen helped Philippe and me into the carriage, I noticed Mazarin was whispering something to our mother. Once inside the carriage, we sat down to wait. I watched out the window as Maman and Mazarin smiled at each other before she was helped inside the carriage. I did not think much of it until I was much older. We watched as Mazarin helped Maman into the carriage. She sat down across from us. There was no expression on her face to discern. As the carriage pulled away, we sat in silence.

Unlike Philippe, I did not dare look out the window. The buildings cast short-lived shadows upon the velvet curtains. They were tied back for the subjects to catch a glimpse of me, but I kept myself hidden behind them as best as I could. Maman did not seem to mind the adoration. She occasionally waved to onlookers as we rode through the city. I kept my eyes fixed on the sky--what little I could see of it. Suddenly, the sky disappeared behind a large stone arch—only to reappear moments later. It was then that I got the courage to peek from behind the curtain that had been my shield. We had left the city of Paris behind its ancient walls.

There was little beyond the city walls to see. Montmartre was the peak of the lonely valley we had entered. My childish eyes saw little value in the countryside. They were use to seeing vibrant green topiary of the palace gardens. This landscape was colorless by comparison. On the way to Saint-Denis, we passed several tall stones with crosses on top of them. Some had figures carved into them. Their weary faces innocuously stared at us from somewhere in time. It seemed our journey would never end when I looked out to see the walls of another city in the distance. The closer we got to the gate, the more anxious I became. I was king about to oversee the burial of my predecessor rather than a child burying a father.

As our cortège entered the small village from its southern gate, the only fanfare was the ringing of the church bells. Philippe found them fascinating; I found them cacophonous. Our carriage stopped in front of an ancient stone church. We waited briefly for our carriage door to open after the steps were put down. Mother was helped out first, followed by Philippe. Then it was my turn. I slowly emerged. As two footmen helped me down, I looked to see several clergymen waiting by the enormous doors of the church. Though our walk was short, it was made longer by Maman acknowledging all the spectators bowing to us.

“Your Majesty,” one of the clergy said to me as he bowed. “We are honored and humbled to be in your presence.”

I looked at Maman. She nodded. I nodded back at the man.

“Come, Your Majesty,” he said.

We followed him into the church. I paid little attention to anything except the floor beneath our feet. Beneath the ancient stone arched ceilings we stood before the decorated coffin in which my father lay. I did not understand what was being said when the words were not in French, nor could I put those I understood in context. I watched Philippe for a while. He spent most of his time looking at his shoes. When he caught me looking at him, he would grin at me. I knew he knew less about what was going on than I did.

Once the talking was finished, everyone bowed to us. We were led out of the church and into the light of day. The sun hurt my eyes. As Mother spoke to the clergy, I saw the footmen preparing for our return to Paris. I was tired. When Maman took our hands, we were led back to our carriage. Once inside, I sat down and leaned against the side of the window. After Maman had sat down, the door shut, and our journey began. Philippe lay his head on my lap and quickly fell asleep. Soon after, I drifted to sleep. Until my majority, France was in my mother's hands, even as I bore the burden of its people as King Louis XIV.--The Secret of the House of Bourbon–XIV by Jaynaé Marie Miller. 10-2-2023

*In passing, if we consider that the Sun of France is forever eclipsed, that all the charms of nature are buried with him in this Tomb, seeing such a fatal object, you will desire to die for the love of one who lives only for another: if only you say for your consolation, "No, this great King is not dead, he only rests under this tomb."— 1643, the epitaph of Louis XIII

Louis and his baby brother go with his mother to put their father to rest at Saint Denis.

Book III/Part IX: ⚜️XIV⚜️

My father had not been dead long before events were set into motion that would change my life forever. I was too young to understand the chaos my father’s death created in court. Maman would say things to Mazarin I did not understand; whenever they spoke of me, I was present. I learned that as I grew up, I was there to remind everyone that I was the King, even as I was still in my minority. To some in the court, I was an obstacle that needed to be removed. It would be a few more years before I discovered what that meant—especially to my uncle Gaston.

The first time I remember leaving the palace as king was to sit on the lit de justice in the Grand Chamber of the Parliament. I did not want to go because we had to leave Philippe behind. I always wanted to have him by my side. As we grew up, I needed to have Philippe close to me—even when he did not wish to be.

That morning, I rose, had a bite to eat, and then was dressed by my valets in the finest clothing. I was led out of my bed chamber and into the hall where Maman was waiting. She took my hand and we made our way through the palace and into the light of day where a carriage awaited us. I did not notice much except the horses. There were so many of them on that day. As I was helped into the carriage by the footman, I noticed Maman speaking to Mazarin. When she was done, she was helped into the carriage, and sat beside me.

“Today is an important day, Louis,” she said to me. “You will preside over Parliament for the first time.”

“What is that, Maman,” I asked.

“Do not worry about that right now,” she said. “You are still young. I shall speak for you.”

As our carriage pulled away, I looked out the window. We were on our way to Paris. This would be the first time I would ride into the city as the King of France. I would not realize until I was older that it had only been 4 days since my father’s death.

On the way to Paris I fell asleep. When I felt the carriage stop, I woke up and looked out of the window to see the stone court of the Palais de la Cité. There were so many people there I was afraid to get out of the carriage. Once Maman had been helped out, she turned around.

“Your Majesty,” she said. “You must not keep the Parliament waiting.”

I knew she said those words loud enough so the crowd could hear. I hesitated but stood in the frame of the open door. The multitude fell silent. The footman helped me down. Maman took my hand, and we walked to the grand staircase. With each step, the people would bow to us. As we ascended the stairs, we were met by several men. The only one I recognized was my uncle Gaston. He bowed.

“Your Majesty,” he said. “It is good to see you.”

I nodded at him.

“You know why we are here, Gaston,” Maman said. “Louis is king now, and I will become regent on this day. It is only fitting, of course.”

“I was not aware this was something Louis would have allowed,” he whispered. “I can only imagine what you did to convince Mazarin of such a spectacle. My brother has not yet been laid to rest.”

Before mother could answer, we were greeted by several dressed in long red robes and peculiar hats. As they bowed, mother led me into the ancient halls of the old chateau. There were men and a few ladies lining the halls as Maman led me toward the Grand Chamber. Once inside, we met with shouts from the gallery.

“Vive le Roi! Vive le Roi!”

I was led to a special chair by two bailiffs on their knees bearing maces of gold. It was the lit de justice—a chair that was raised above the main floor. Draped in the royal colors covered with the fleur-de-lis, I was placed there beneath the baldachin. Mother sat beside me, yet she had to remain lower than the king. Soon, the room was filled with elaborately dressed nobles. When everyone was assembled, everyone looked at me. I was terrified. I wanted to go home. Thankfully, once the meeting was called to order, everyone’s eyes were on Maman.

I was too young to understand what was said among the counselors. On that day, my name was His Majesty. I had only been king for four days, yet they spoke of me as if I had ruled for generations. They must have known I was a child. I had not yet been breeched. Every now and then, one of the men would look at me and nod in obeisance as if to seek my approval. I was too afraid to move. I could only look at them with my eyes as wide as saucers.

After what seemed hours, Maman looked at me. She smiled and nodded to me. I knew then it was time to leave. I rose from my seat and everyone in the room bowed to me. On their knees, the two bailiffs from before helped me down and led Maman and I out of the chamber. In the hall, there was chaos that turned to whispers as we made our way back to the carriage. All I wanted to do was to return home and play in the gardens with Philippe.

“The power behind the throne can never belong to a woman,” someone said from within the crowd.

“Silence, fool,” a voice shouted. It was my uncle Gaston “You have forgotten that my mother, Queen Marie, did the same for the late king?”

We began walking faster as several men began shouting from behind. Our guards led all three of us quickly down the hall and into the light of day. When I was seen by the crowd, they bowed. Gaston escorted us to our carriage. Not since that day had I ever been so glad to be inside a carriage.

“I am moved by your kindness, Gaston,” Maman said from the window. “I will remember it.”

“I hope that you will, Madam,” he said, as he looked at me. “Your Majesty.”

I waved at him. I felt our carriage pull away and begin its journey home—which I learned was to the nearby Palais-Royal. When we were safe behind its gates, I stepped out. The servants were there to greet us. I saw Mazarin walking toward us. Before he reached us, I heard the familiar sound little feet running in my direction.

“Louis,” Philippe shouted as he ran toward me nearly knocking Mazarin over. He embraced me excitedly.

“Philippe,” Maman said, as she stepped out. “Behave.”

“You’re Majesties,” Mazarin said calmly. “It is good to see you.”

“Go inside,” Mother said to me.

Without a word, I took Philippe’s hand and led him toward the palace doors.

“Where did you go,” Philippe asked.

“I tell you later,” I whispered. I wanted nothing more than to forget. For the first time, I realized my father was dead and his death ended my childhood.

**** **** **** ****

After supper, I was bathed then dressed for bed. I noticed more valets in my chambers than usual. They occupied themselves with my clothing. I knew that new clothing had been made for me before my father died, but few pieces were befitting a king. As they busied themselves, went to the window. Darkness had fallen and all I could see were the shadows of people flitting around the gardens. I did not know what they were doing or if they were real. I imagined them as dark angels that had lost their way to heaven.

“Your Majesty,” a voice called to me. I looked to see Mazarin bowing into me.

“I do not like that word,” I said. “I am tired of hearing it.”

“You are king, Your Majesty,” he began. “From now until your death, everyone must address you as such.”

“Even Philippe,” I asked.

“When in court,” he answered. “And whenever you are performing your duties as king in the presence of your subjects.”

I stared at him as if he had spoken gibberish. How could I be a king when I could barely read or write? What little I had learned came from my governess. My wet-nurse had only left me less than two years prior. I was not ready to rule a kingdom.

“I want Papa,” I said.

“I know, Your Majesty,” he said walking over to me. He kneeled down and looked at me. “Your father was a king, and so must you be. He is in Heaven now but he will always be with you.”

“I am only a child,” I said, trying not to cry. “How can I be a king like Papa was?”

Mazarin smiled tenderly. I could tell he was trying to comfort me as a father would a son.

“Kings are not born, Your Majesty,” he said. “They are made over time. No king that ever ruled knew everything upon ascension. Child or Man, you will learn. I will make sure of it. But, it is late, and you must get some sleep. You must rise early.”

“I know,” I answered softly. “We are going to lay Papa to rest.”

He nodded. As he rose, he did something unexpected. He picked me up and carried me to bed. He pulled the covers over me.

“Good night, Your Majesty,” he said.

“Good night,” I answered.

He smiled then saw his way out. Not long after, I fell asleep. An hour later, I felt the familiar warmth of Philippe lying next to me. He was beginning to become a comfort to me. I drifted back to sleep.

“Louis,” I heard a voice say. I thought I was dreaming. It was the voice of a man, but there were no men that called me by that name since my father died. Philippe’s voice was juvenile; he had only recently learned how to pronounce my name properly.

“Louis,” the voice said again. I sat straight up. I looked across the dark room to see a shadow slip out into the antechamber. Philippe was sound asleep. I decided to follow. I quietly climbed out of bed and into the next room. I followed it into the hall. There were no guards at my door.

“Louis,” the voice whispered in my ear. I jumped as I turned to see my father.

“Papa,” I squealed, throwing my arms around him. I was too happy to notice he was cold to the touch. “I thought you were gone forever.”

“I came to see you before I go,” he said as he knelt before me.

“Where are you going,” I asked.

“You will find out one day,” he said. “But for now, you need not worry. You have your whole life ahead of you, Louis.”

“Papa,” I started. “I do not want to be king. I do not like it. No one calls me Louis anymore.”

He laughed.

“No one called you Louis except for me and your mother. And Philippe, of course.”

“Philippe! He would want to see you.”

“No,” Papa answered. “He needs his rest. Tomorrow will be hard for him.”

“I do not understand, Papa.”

“Remember what I said to you at Versailles,” he asked.

“You told me to watch over Philippe for you,” I answered.

“He will need you more than ever, Louis,” he began. “There will be times when all you will have is each other. Let nothing come between you and Philippe. Promise me.”

“I promise, Papa,” I whispered.

He smiled and stood up. I realized that I could see the hall through him.

“I was a king first, but a father forever,” he said. His voice began to fade. “The last of which brought me the greatest joy I had ever known. Be well, my son. Until we meet again.”

With those words, he was gone. I turned to see the guards holding one of my chamber doors open as Philippe slipped out.

“Louis,” he said. “Why are you awake?”

“Do not worry, Philippe,” I said as I took his hand. “Let us go back to bed now.”

“I had a dream, Louis,” he began as we headed into my chambers. “I saw Papa. He is not coming back.”

As the guards closed the doors, I stopped and looked my brother.

“No, Philippe,” I said. “He is not coming back. He is in Heaven.”

“I want to go there,” he said.

“One day, you will,” I said. “But not yet. I need you here.”

“Why?”

“Who will play with me in the garden if you go away,” I asked.

“You can play with Joujou,” he said.

“I would rather play with you than a puppy,” I said. “Besides, I would miss you.”

“I would miss you, too, Louis,” he said. “But Papa might be lonely.”

“He is there with the angels,” I said. “He is not lonely, I promise.”

Philippe yawned and rubbed his eyes.

“I will stay,” he said. “Papa said I had to.”

I smiled at him. I did not know whether to believe him or not. We went back to bed and slept peacefully until dawn.--The Secret of the House of Bourbon–XIV by Jaynaé Marie Miller. 10-2-2023

I am back. And I am about to deliver. Louis‘s mother Anne of Austria just went to Parliament and got her Regency over him. The night before he buries his father, he and his little brother Philippe have visions of their late father. 

June 12, 2023: Beta Readers Wanted

Hello. How are you doing? I think I should explain a few things. Let me get this out of the way first: I will be looking for beta readers for the first part of the book XIV.

Yes, XIV is about Louis XIV. How did you know? Anyway, it is a long book and it will be here always: @lesecretdelamaisondubourbon.

Long story short: a famous person DMs me to ask to read my work and I had to make it possible. I write a lot (@tkwrtrilogy @tkwrtrilogy @tkwrtrilogy3 @trenarnolegolaslasgalen and all subsequent side projects), and this trilogy is part of my work. So, naturally, I decided that why should the famous person have all the fun? I decided to make it possible for a few beta readers to read Part I of XIV (which is a trilogy within an actual trilogy now because each part is as long as a book). Good, now that you know that...

Yes, Monsieur has his own book--which brings me to what I should explain (more about this particular trilogy).

This is Part II of Book III--NOT of XIV (which is about Louis XIV). This is a separate book. It is written by @fortunatelyclevercandy (who is also working on @thehouseofdurin). Clearly, this book is entitled Monsieur (because, as everyone knows, Monsieur was the honorific title of the second-born son of a French Monarch).

Part I of Book III is the book XIV written by @iamjaynaemarie (the person writing this blog post, and author of the abovementioned blogs about The Kingdom of the Woodland Realm Trilogy).

Yes, THIS book is about Louis XIV. This book is the one that will be available in November for a select group of readers.

This is a trilogy. Why is it a trilogy?

This is why*. It's a family affair. Interestingly enough, this family makes all other royal families look like Disney by comparison. The years of movies and television shows didn't even scratch the surface.

⚠️ BY THE WAY: People seem to be having issues with WordPress and reading this book, so I am going to figure out what is going on today and probably until tomorrow. I don't know what happened. It works for me obviously because I'm the one posting things on my website. But for some reason, it is not working for readers, so I'm going to be looking into that today and probably over the next few days to rectify this issue. In the meantime, anyone not on WordPress please try to read Tumblr for a while. I hope it doesn't take too long.

Yeah, the KING is NOT HAPPY about that.

So, that's it for today. I hope you enjoyed all that. Thank you for reading.--JMM.

Every family has a secret. Some have more than others.

Welcome to the House of Bourbon. Enjoy your stay.

*Book I will be the last book completed. It is going through some minor outline changes as the overall tone of the trilogy has shifted to deal with our favorite recurring theme: Brothers.

Note: This book is also written in multiple languages: English, French, Spanish, Italian, and German. This means that the actual text of the book will casually flip between languages (mostly in dialogue). This is done because, interestingly enough, Louis XIV was fluent in English, French, Spanish, Italian, and German. His brother Philippe preferred Spanish to his native French, but he was also multilingual as his best friend was Italian, his first wife was English, and his second wife spoke German. 🙂

Mondays are so much fun. 

⚜️XIV⚜️: I am Dieudonné (Ch. I/Pt. VII)

My baptism was one week away. One morning, Philippe and I decided to make our way to the kitchen. I always had a voracious appetite for as long as I could remember. Philippe was a finicky eater. He would only put the finest of delicacies in his mouth. But if the food was good, he could eat as much as I could.

If our mother had known of our near daily sojourns to the kitchen, she would have locked us in our rooms. As royalty, we were fraternizing with commoners too much. How could we not? They were friendly to us. Their children were uninterested in our titles and more into play. On this day, there were few people in the kitchen but there was plenty of food.

Straight away, Philippe headed for the macaroons. I helped myself to the omelettes. While I poked a piece in my mouth, I saw Philippe reaching for his treats. He dropped one and chased it as it rolled under a table. One of the servants noticed him squatting down to reach it.

“Thank you,” he said. “I am Philippe.”

“Who are you talking to,” I asked him.

“A girl,” he said without looking up. I noticed a little hand coming from under the table holding the macaroon he dropped.

A woman gasped and reached under the table and pulled out a little girl. She was as little as Philippe, with a head full of long black curls covering her features.

“Tu es une mauvaise fille,” she said angrily. “Are you stealing food again?”

“No,” she said, tearfully.

“She gave me my macaroon,” Philippe said, his mouth full. He walked over to the girl, and handed her a macaroon. “Here.”

She took it, smiled and ran out of the kitchen. Philippe gave the woman a mean look.

“Come, Philippe,” I said. I could see he was about say something awful.

He slowly turned toward me, still scowling at the woman.

“She is not nice, Louis,” he said, looking at me. I looked at the woman as I took Philippe’s hand. I did not say a word to her but I could see she feared what we might say to our parents. I led my brother away putting the incident out of my mind.

No more than a few days before my baptism, I was playing with Philippe in the hall. Our mother approached us followed by several ladies with 2 girls and boy.

Everyone stopped in front of us and bowed.

“Louis, Philippe,” Mother said sweetly. “This is Gabrielle, Louis and Diane-Françoise. Louis and Diane have come to play with you.”

I did not know what to say but Philippe did.

“Why,” he asked.

Mother seemed a loss for words as several of her ladies tried not to laugh.

“Philippe, be polite to our guests,” she said.

“Why?”

“Yes, Maman,” I said quickly.

She smiled and left us with the little boy and girl as the older girl left with mother and the other ladies.

“I am Louis,” the boy said.

“Me, too,” I said.

“This is my sister,” he said. “Her name is Diane but we call her Françoise because she is named after our mother.”

“She is a girl,” Philippe said.

“I know,” she said. “And you are a boy.”

Philippe stuck his tongue out at her.

“Who is the other girl,” I asked Louis.

“That is my other sister, Gabrielle,” he said. “Papa said Maman is going to have another baby. I hope it is a boy this time.”

“That is a lot of girls,” I said. “Philippe is my only brother.”

“He is little,” Louis said.

Philippe gave him a mean look before pulling Diane’s hair.

“Philippe, stop,” I said. “That was not very nice.”

“No, it was not,” Diane said, hitting Philippe on the arm.

“Françoise,” Louis said. “You cannot hit him. He is a Prince.”

“That is right,” Philippe said, hitting her back.

She hit him again.

“Mine is two,” Louis said, pulling her away.

“So is mine,” I said, holding Philippe back. “They are still babies.”

“I am not a baby,” they said in unison.

“Come,” I said. “We can go play in the garden. We have a puppy out there.”

On the day of my baptism, I entered the chapel with my mother. Philippe was to remain behind in the pew without our governess. As always, Philippe had other ideas. He managed to escape her grasp, and follow me down the aisle to the altar. Our father was waiting for us beside the font. His skin was pallid and his eyes did not seem to have the shine I remembered. He never moved from his position. He smiled at us as we met him and the priest at the altar.

It was intimate ceremony with only important members of the household in attendance. I stood before the altar of the chapel, I knew it was a solemn occasion even as I was too young to understand its meaning. I stood with my parents before the baptismal font as the priest began to speak.

Suddenly, I heard a splash. At first, I thought nothing of it. Then I heard it again and again. I looked down to see Philippe reaching into the font. I gently nudged him to get him to stop. I should have known that would entice him to continue more vigorously. I noticed everyone trying to ignore Philippe. It was a feat that was futile to attempt. My father gently pushed my brother’s hand away, and Philippe put it back. Even our father knew it was best to let Philippe have his way. So as long as he kept quiet, there was no harm done other than a slightly damp priest.

Papa did not say a word nor moved through it all. He just smiled and nodded once it was over. He and Maman exchanged glances while the priest and I exchanged words before mother took our hands and us out of the chapel of Château-Vieux.

The next time I would see my father would be 23 days later upon his deathbed.

It was a quiet morning. By I remember I was playing with Philippe in my room when our governess came in. Her face was stoic.

“Your Highnesses,” she began, her voice trembling. “His Majesty wishes to you both.

“Papa,” Philippe exclaimed excitedly. “I want to see Papa.”

I knew something was wrong. Everyone in the room seemed disheartened. She picked up Philippe and offered her hand to me. I cautiously took it and she led me away to my father’s room.

It was the last moments of his life.

In his room, I could smell the scent of death and feel the burden that was about to put upon me. Though I was only four years old, I knew my presence in the moment gave everyone a feeling of helplessness and hope. When I saw my father, I was frightened at how sallow he was. Maman, Mazarin and Bontemps held vigil by his bedside as we approached.

“Louis,” he said, weakly. “Philippe.”

Our governess put my brother down beside me. I did not dare move closer to my father. I was afraid; he looked like the corpse he was to become.

“Papa,” Philippe said. “You look sleepy.”

“I am,” he whispered, with a faint smile. “I am going to sleep, Philippe. For a very long time. Louis, remember what I say to you. You will make a fine king. I know you will.”

I nodded. I did not know what else to do. I was passed a torch I was not yet able to carry. Suddenly, Papa said something I could not hear, took two labored breaths, then fell silent. Mother gasped as others in the room weeped softly.

“It is a quarter past two,” Bontemps said softly.

With everyone around him, my father slipped away peacefully.

“Why is Papa sleeping, Louis,” Philippe whispered.

“I do not know, Philippe,” I answered softly.

I knew our father was gone forever, but I did not believe it. Even I thought he was sleeping. It would be a while before I realized he had said his dying words to me months earlier at the château. Watch after your brother for me. Take care of Philippe. Looking at my father’s corpse, I said to myself, But who will take care of me, Papa?

Soon after, everyone turned and looked at me.

“Le roi est mort,” Mazarin said. “Vive le roi.”

I was the King of France.

“You are the king now,” Maman said to me.

“I do not want to be king,” I said.

“Your father is dead,” she said. “You must take his place now, Louis.”

“I do not want to,” I said loudly. “I do not want to be king!”

“Louis,” she began.

“No!”

I ran out of the room and down the hall crying. I did not want to be king. I did not know what it meant to be king, much less what it was. When I reached my room, I expected to see my governess, but there was another woman in her place.

“Who are you,” I yelled.

“I am your new governess, Your Majesty,” she said.

“No,” I yelled, pushing her. “Go away!”

I threw myself on my bed and started to cry into the pillows. I cried myself to sleep. I remembered hearing soft whimpering next to me. When I opened my eyes, it was evening and I was dressed in my nightgown. Philippe was lying next to me, his eyes red from crying.

“You scared me,” he said.

“I did not mean to,” I said.

“Why are you sad, Louis,” he asked.

“I do not want to be king but Maman said I am,” I answered.

“You are too short to be king,” he said. “You have to be tall like Papa.”

“I think he is gone, Philippe,” I said.

“When he comes back, you do not have to be king,” he said yawning.

He fell asleep, leaving me to my thoughts. I did not think Papa was coming back to us this time.--The Secret of the House of Bourbon–XIV by Jaynaé Marie Miller. 5-07-2022

I’m back it has been quite a journey. One of the longest journeys. One of these days I will talk about it when people actually care. Until then, read.

⚜️XIV⚜️: I am Dieudonné (Ch. I/Pt. III)

Two footmen opened the doors and father stepped out. Before anyone could stop him, Philippe jumped out, nearly falling on his face.

“Shall I put him down, Your Majesty,” our governess asked Papa as she stepped out of the carriage.

“If you will,” he answered. “Philippe has had quite a day.”

“No,” Philippe said.

I took my first steps out of the carriage and looked around as Papa tried to reason with Philippe. To my recollection, this little château did not impress me much. It was just another one of our many palaces.

“Come, Louis,” Papa said to me, offering his hand.  I took his hand he led us into the château. Philippe talked every step of the way in the arms of our governess. Once inside, my father and I were parted and my brother and I were shown to our apartments.

“Philippe,” I asked, as he was put down on the bed while our governess left us alone. “What are you talking about?”

He stopped talking for a moment and thought about what I had asked him.

“I do not know,” he answered as he rolled over in laughter. Our governess returned as quickly as she had left.

“Your Highness,” she said to me. “You are to see your father immediately in his apartments. Straight through those doors.”

“No,” Philippe screamed. “I want Louis!”

She looked at me sternly. I gave her a weak smile as she left me to my brother.

“Philippe,” I began. “Go to sleep.”

“I do not want to,” he said, looking around. “Not here.”

“Please,” I begged. “I must go see Papa.”

“Will you come back,” he asked.

“Yes.”

Philippe yawned.

“I am not sleepy,” he said, as he fell asleep. When I was certain he would not wake up, I turned to leave the room to find Papa. Instead, he had found me.

“You are very good with your brother,” he said. “But you have always been.”

“I wish he were bigger,” I said. “He is still a baby.”

“He will not always be, Louis,” he said. “Just as you will not always be a child.”

Papa sat down in a chair beside the window. Though I was still young, he was not as I had once remembered him. I did not have the mind to ask what plagued him. I would have not understood what he might have told me. I went over to him to see what he was looking at through the window. He motioned for me to join him. I climbed upon his lap, and we sat together in silence for a time. The only sounds of nature came from Philippe’s restless sleep.

“Louis,” he finally said. “You will do as I say, yes?”

“Yes, Papa,” I answered.

“Watch after your brother for me,” he said. “Take care of Philippe.”

I nodded, thinking he was speaking about watching Philippe while we were staying the château. I looked over at my brother. He was sound asleep.

“There is no such thing as fearless, Louis,” I heard Papa say. “You must be afraid to do something so that you may find the courage to do anything.”

I turned back to him and nodded. He embraced me. I would not understand anything that happened that day for years but not long after he uttered those words to me, he would be dead and I would be king.

Philippe was awakened shortly before dinner. He was unusually quiet, but nonetheless, took the time to let our governess know he did not like the food put before him. He would take a bite, scowl, then spit it out if the taste was not to his liking. To be fair, I had to admit I was not fond of it, either. I ate it out of obedience.

After dinner, we were put to bed. Getting there was always a chore when it came to Philippe. I am not sure when he learned to splash his bathwater on the servants for amusement, but he had turned it into an unholy ritual at every opportunity. Once we were dressed and in bed, I could hear the sighs of relief behind the doors of our room.

For some time that night, we slept peacefully without interruption. Then, I felt a jolt that woke me instantly. I felt the earth shaking but I knew better than to worry.

“Philippe, stop,” I said. I knew he was jumping on the bed. This was the one time I wish I had never taught him how to do it.

“I cannot sleep, Louis,” he said between each jump. 

“Neither can I, Philippe,” I began. “Because you are keeping me awake.”

He stopped jumping, landing on his bottom near my feet. 

“I am not a baby,” he said. That was the problem with Philippe. He could remember everything I said when I thought he was not listening. 

“Yes, you are,” I said.

Philippe crawled back to his place beside me and lay down.

“Louis,” he began. “You will take care of me.”

“I have to,” I said. “You are my brother.”

“You are my brother,” he said. “I will take care of you, too.”

With that, he kissed my forehead, lay down and fell asleep. I did not understand what he meant until we were older but Philippe always knew and I was glad for it.

When I woke up the next morning, Philippe was gone. I looked around and saw him standing on the chair where Papa and I were sitting the day before. He was looking out of the window. I climbed out of bed and went to join him. The floor was cool, but a servant was stoking the fire in the hearth.

“Look,” Philippe said excitedly, pointing out the window. I saw Papa on horseback, riding with several other men. “Papa is leaving us!”

I smiled to myself. Philippe was still too young to understand.

“Papa is going hunting,” I told him.

“Why,” he asked, looking at me, concerned.

“That is what kings do.”

“Why,” he asked again.

“I do not know, Philippe,” I answered.

“Why,” he asked.

If our governess had not come into the room, I was going smack my little brother. It was time to eat and Philippe had become distracted with something new. As our porridge was served, I wondered how long Papa would be gone. Philippe took an enormous spoonful of porridge and shoved it into his mouth. With his mouth full, our governess took this moment to scold him.

“Smaller bites, Petit Monsieur,” she said. “Your Highness, sit up straight.”

Immediately, I changed my posture. She was stern but kind. We would not have her much longer, but she would come back into my life when I would need her the most.–The Secret of the House of Bourbon–XIV by Jaynaé Marie Miller. 12-18-2021

I just can’t stop Philippe from being cute; it’s just not going to happen.

Hello!

I’m Jaynaé Marie Miller (and will be writing as all the Kings of the House of Bourbon) Nice to meet everyone. For the most part, I’m new on Tumblr (even though I have another book on here). I’m still learning how to post things. Yes, even after over 5 years. I’m not exactly tech savvy. Enter, my co-author, @fortunatelyclevercandy​ (who will be writing as all the Kings’ brothers from the House of Bourbon). She knows how to figure this stuff out (and will write me 30-page books about it).

Anyway, today is the first day for Louis XIV to make his debut. It will be on Wordpress today. There is a reason I shifted gears and began working on Book III of @thesecretofthehouseofbourbonbook​, but the main reason was because my co-author was working on Book III while I was starting Book II and I wanted to maintain consistency. However, that does not mean I will not continue working on Book II. I multitask (probably because I had ADHD). So, I will be working on a few projects at the same time (including @tkwrtrilogy3​, that is still in progress). Please Note: At some point, years from now, this will all make sense. 

Anyway, I look forward to what I do best–writing. Whether or not I’m good at it, I will let you decide. I just hope you will enjoy it.

The very first for Louis XIV is here. 

I am back. This time, it’s French.

Prologue

I. The Visit

The day was not cold but neither was it warm. Even as the sun shone its brightest, the warmth of its rays were not felt. One came toward a simple stone marking a place where a life lost to time was lain. Never forgotten and always remembered by no more than myth and legend. Upon the eternal deathbed, one placed a single rose. On its stem was a golden ribbon. “Pour Orrose,” the voice said softly. The voice was like a song that rang louder than the dead could hear even as the living never would. For now. 

The shadow of the one at the grave grew smaller and the light of the sun shone upon the stone—it’s name faded by time. C’est l’histoire d’Orrose.

She walked slowly from the grave to join her companion who waited outside the decaying stone walls of the old prison. She lifted her veil and looked at him with her eyes the color of the sky.

“Was he there,” he asked gruffly. He was in no mood for sentiment. He had only accompanied her out of duty.

“I would not know,” she said softly. “There were others there. It would be impossible to search through them all to find one lost soul.”

“Then why would you come all this way for nothing,” he asked as a footman opened the carriage door.

“It is nothing to you, for you did not know him,” she said angrily.

“Neither did you.”

She glared at him—her face twisted in anger.

“I knew of him,” she began. “And of what I know, he was a far better man than you will ever be.”

She turned and was helped into the carriage. Her companion signed and followed her inside. He motioned to their driver and they began their journey home.

I watched them as they left and wondered to myself who was she—this lovely girl who had come so far to remember a man she did not know. I thought about how I came to be—a ghost of a man with a past I could barely remember. For her, I would try to remember. Perhaps one day I would be able to tell her.–The Secret of the House of Bourbon–Prologue by Jaynaé Marie Miller. 07-26-2020

Let the saga begin.

How to READ “The Secret of the House of Bourbon”

Like all the books (with the exception of @thehouseofdurin​) this could be complicated. Once again, I am starting in the middle (as I did with TKWRT and The Saga of Thranduil). Book II of the Bourbon Trilogy will begin with the life of Louis XIII (father of Louis XIV and his brother Philippe I).

WARNING: This is not a fan site and it is not based on any television show/book. This is based on history and historical events and is a new story entirely. In other words, the Kings in this book you are about to meet are NOTHING like the ones seen on television and/or movies.

I will be labeling all excerpts by “Book” so another “blog” will be unnecessary (like it is for TKWRT). I’ll also issue warnings when a change of book is coming.

Also, the Prologue is very important as there is a secondary storyline that you need to follow that affects the lives of the kings you’ll be reading about. 

The same story here will be on WordPress (where it can be read in the language of your choice). 

Please Note: I’m probably going to have to add an Ask Me Anything in a few months, I’m sure.

Let another saga begin. 😁

Welcome to what will become another trilogy. From the authors of @tkwrtrilogy​ and @thehouseofdurin​ comes “The Secret of the House of Bourbon”. It has already found a home on Instagram and WordPress (as well as Facebook), now it comes to Tumblr.

But wait, there’s more: This story cover 197 years of the Bourbon Dynasty–from its “humble” beginnings with Antoine de Bourbon to the height of its majesty with Louis XIV.

Not only do you get to visit Versailles again, you get see it how it all began–from the hunting grounds to golden palace it became–and there are secrets that have been left untold (no, really, we’re not trying to be dramatic).

See something you like? Well, I can say one thing–I get to be the king of France (like I was Thranduil and soon-to-be Oropher in @tkwrtrilogy3​) and the generations of the ruling Kings of Dale in @oflordsandkingstkwrtbook​ (that’s me, too). @fortunatelyclevercandy​ makes her debut as my brothers, (Duc d’Orléans–Gaston and everyone’s favorite, Philippe de France). As always, I am beginning in the middle of the book as Louis XIII, father of Louis XIV and Philippe. I have already started over on WordPress and I am about to add more (to both trilogies).

You’ll be surprised about what you DON’T know about Louis XIII. 

After Louis XIII, I will be Louis XIV. Yes, you’ll be surprised about what you DON’T know about him, too.

And MANY, many, many, many, many, many more exciting things about the Kings of France and Navarre (which actually ceased to exist around 1620 but that’s another story altogether 🤫).

So, sit back and relax and read a lot of things in multiple languages (as my co-author will be writing in her native Italian and probably some English and I will be writing in my native English and in my third language which just so happens to French).

(Yes, there are even things you don’t know about Philippe, Monsieur, Duc d’Orléans–lots. 🤐).

Welcome to the Kingdom of France–Again.

My France, of course.

Another trilogy, another kingdom. This is going to be fun.