Keepin’ it real since the 1700’s.
Pierre-Aurelian and his twin sister, Marie-Aubergine, are Thierry and Marguerite’s only children. Thierry-Chevalier was the next to last of Sérisse’s children to get married, and naturally, he would be the one to have the grandchild that is the most like Sérisse.
Pierre-Aurelian has no filter, does what he wants, and has had a bad habit of using adult language since he was two.
Which makes the fact that he grew up to become a Priest – of sorts.
Of sorts means that Gorgon churches are not like ours in the sense that every service ends with the gorgons and angels getting into a fight. That’s a whole different post, tho.
Sérisse has like a ton of grandchildren and great-grandchildren and so on. Pierre and Marie never married and spend most of their time with their parents and grandparents.
And usually Pierre is the one who ruffles everyone’s feathers (literally), which is why the 2025 toddlers in the pool incident was the ultimate payback.
—
Sérisse snapped her fingers loudly.
“Pierre-Aurelian,” Sérisse warned, “You are two. You will not use that word and you will most certainly not tell people to go do that to themselves in my parlor.”
Pierre puffed up and crossed his arms across his chest
“Marcewinn say Jesus Chwist, MéMère.”
“The fk?” Marcellin shot back, “I did not fking say that.”
“Marcellin-Renaud!” Athénaïs scolded, “This why he say these things! You a bad incision!”
Charon doubled over laughing. “Mère, it’s bad influence. Your English is awful.”
“Mère, WHY are you speaking English anyway?” Eamonn sighed, “This is Versailles. Not London.”
“Because one day gonna need lots English,” Athénaïs said, “Need practice now.”
“Mère, we won’t need English like that,” Charlestre said, “We’re French. This is Court. We speak French.”
“One day maybe court not be here.”
Charlestre blew a raspberry. “Mère, it’s 1788. The Court has been at Versailles for decades now. We are never leaving France. Sometimes I think you worry to worry.”
Sérisse looked over at her wife. No…she wasn’t fabricating a fear. Athénaïs knew something they didn’t.
“Mom Cœur?” Sérisse asked.
“THAT FKING WIDICCUWOUS WE NOT LEAVE VEWSAILLES!”
Sérisse’s mouth dropped open. “Where would you have even picked THAT up?”
“Okay, we gonna go wash mouth out with nettle,” Athénaïs hissed, scooping Pierre up, “Sérisse, time for rest. No more work. Hour over. Rest.”
Jesus. Have one collapse and now she was being restrained like an infant. It was signing parchments. Not dragging a carriage.
“But, I-“ Sérisse began.
“Sérisse-Sthenais, I said NON!”
Sérisse threw the quill across the room, folded her arms across her chest and pouted. “That is just fking ridiculous, I-“
Oh. Right. This is where Pierre-Aurelian got it from.
Athénaïs stared at her with one eyebrow raised, Pierre on her hip.
Sérisse closed her eyes, slunk down in the chaise and pulled the blanket over her head. Then she felt her wife’s lips press gently against her forehead through the blanket.
“I bring you a treat when I come back if you behave.”
Sérisse pulled the blanket off of her head. “A tart? Because Monsiuer Laroche made-“
Athénaïs grinned and raised both eyebrows, then turned and walked away with Pierre, looking over her shoulder once to give Sérisse a devilish grin before leaving the room.
This woman…
“Jesus,” Charlestre sighed, “Can’t the two of you wait until we aren’t here to do that shit?”
Normally Sérisse would have a retort, today she did not.
She just wanted Athénaïs to hurry back.