I mean, seriously. This family is eclectic, wild, and one hundred percent loyal to one another. It’s all in good fun, there’s no malicious intent whatsoever.
Sérisse bitches about her children’s antics, but deep down, she loves it. Loves that they are just unapologetically themselves.
——
Château de Versailles
1778
The opera house was already loud before the orchestra tuned. Sérisse leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes. Two days. She only had to make it for two more days. Then they would be back on the frigates, away from this clusterfuck of a nuthouse her kin called Versailles.
Athénaïs rubbed her arm.
“Go,” Athénaïs said softly, “Go to bed Mon Cœur. You exhausted.”
“Non, I’m fine,” Sérisse said with a yawn, “Just needed to close my eyes for a moment. She slid her chair closer to Athénaïs and draped one arm around her shoulders. “I promised you a night at the opera. What is this one about again?”
“Orfeo et Eurydice,” Athénaïs answered.
Sérisse wrinkled her nose. “Great. Fucking great. Dumbass spent all that time trying to bring his wife back to the land of the living, only to fuck it up at the end. The task was simple. Do. Not. Look. At. Eurydice. Until. You. Are. Out. Of. The. Underworld. What does he do? He fucking looks. Who does that shit? I mean, what…was he just testing to see if Hades was lying? Which, in his defense, that son of a bitch does lie all the time, but that’s beside the point. Plus, the snake. Why is the villain always a snake? It wasn’t a snake, there were no snakes even near her, she was drunk and fell off of a cliff, everyone knows that. Jesus, the entire plot line is awful and would gag a maggot…”
“Sérisse!”
“Fine, fine, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Sérisse insisted. She pressed one foot against the balcony railing and tipped her chair backwards slightly. “It’s a shitty story made up by humans who can’t even find their ass with both hands, but it’s fine. It’s fine. I’m here with you, that’s all that matters, and-“
“GO-GO!”
Sérisse immediately lost her balance and tumbled backward, the chair crashing against the back wall. Before she could even comprehend what had happened, two tiny faces were staring down at her. Pierre-Aurelian and his twin sister, Marie-Aubergine. Both of their mouths were smeared with…oh fucking wonderful….just wonderful…powdered sugar and jam. So no one was going to get any sleep tonight. Great.
“Pierre-Aurelian!” Athénaïs scolded, “How many time I tell you not sneak up on your MéMère? You know she not like to be called the Go-Go. Where you get this name?”
Sérisse hated that nickname with a passion. If she ever found out who taught her grandbabies to call her that, she would have them flogged. Repeatedly.
“It’s not even a good nickname,” Sérisse complained, “It’s utterly ridiculous. It makes no sense. Go-Go. What in the actual hell is a go-go. It sounds like something a harlot would wear…” She paused, noting that Athénaïs’ eyes had narrowed into little slits, “Not that I have ever been to or plan on visiting a harlot, I was simply making a general statement that the terminology seems sordid at best, and-“
“It a secwet,” Marie-Aubergine answered, “We nevew gon teww yow, because…”
“Chawles,” Pierre-Aurelian said as he pointed toward Charlestre. Charlestre was in her box, sitting with Mirielle, her arm around her, whispering in her ear. Oblivious to the fact she was currently being brutally ratted out by her two year old nephew.
Of course. Of course it would be Charlestre. That aggravating little shit. Well, not necessarily “little.” She and Charon now stood at six foot three, towering over Sérisse’s five foot seven frame. Which they pointed out to Sérisse every damn day.
“It’s a stupid name and makes no sense,” Sérisse grumbled, “Where did they even come up with something so fucking stupid?”
“Sérisse-Sthenaïs.” Athénaïs was giving her that look again. The look of “don’t say fuck in front of the toddlers.”
“I apologize, Mon Tresor,” Sérisse said. “It’s just…”
“Your Majesty.”
Serisse looked over her shoulder. The fuck? Why was there a courier extraordinaire standing in the doorway of her opera box? Didn’t she tell them never to interrupt her when she was with her wife at the opera? The fuck was wrong with these people? Jesus.
“The fuck is it?” Sérisse barked. Athénaïs pinched her. “I mean…what is it?”
“House Gambier has blockaded the coast of Brittany.”
“Awww shit. Someone just fuk aww tha way up,” Pierre shot back, “I bet it cousin Geowge. Cwazy mothewfuckew.”
Sérisse snatched him up and plopped him down on her leg. “Monsieur, you will mind your tongue and your manners. That is no way to speak about a Monarch or a royal emissary.”
“Me sowwy Go-Go.”
Jesus. That name was going to stick, wasn’t it? Fucking Charlestre. Of course she would do this for whatever ridiculous reason. Well, not just Charlestre; her twin sister Charon was most likely involved as well; those two did everything as a unit. Even down to issuing annoying nicknames.
Sérisse cleared her throat and turned her attention back to the courier. “The fuck has that psychotic asswipe in a tizzy now?”
Athénaïs shook her head and fanned herself. “You just tell Pierre-Aurelian not do this, then you do it, Sérisse. You wonder why has filth mouth.”
“Please, you love my filthy mouth,” Sérisse said quietly, “You know you do.”
Athénaïs laughed loudly as pink flooded her cheeks. “Maybe so…but I not quite able remember just how filthy mouth is. Maybe you show me later, hmmm?”
This woman. She could make a fucking Portefaix blush. In fact, she HAD done so. Just last week. Sérisse had to admit, the vulgarity that her wife conjured was pretty damn impressive. Naturally, Sérisse’s mind then immediately went straight to things she planned to do with and to Athénaïs. Her wing feathers ruffled just thinking about it.
“Christ almighty, Mère,” Thierry sighed from the box next to them, “Can’t the two of you at least ward into silence so we don’t have to hear it? Not one of us children want to hear what you are going to do to each other with your mouths…or other body parts.”
“If we hadn’t done things to each other with our mouths and bodies, you wouldn’t be here,” Sérisse hissed.
“Well, there goes my buzz,” Eamonn groaned, “Might as well down another bottle of champagne.”
”Eamonn-Valentin….slow down on champagne,” Athénaïs warned, “I not gonna fish you out the fountain again like last time.”
“That was Thierienne-Bertin, Mère,” Eamonn said, “You had to drag me out of the stables, remember?”
“Stables, fountain, throne room, orchestra pit, chapel, open grave…it all the same. I tired of it. Is give me sticking up hairs all over my head.”
Open grave? What the actual fuck? Sérisse thought about addressing that, but stopped herself. She truly didn’t want or need to know that one of her adult fucking children had been drunkenly cavorting in an open grave.
“Er…Your Majesty? House Gambier?”
The courier extraordinaire cleared his throat nervously. Damn. She had forgotten about him. And House Gambier. Assholes.
“The fuck is Cousin George even doing?” Sérisse barked, “If this is about Ash Wednesday last year, tell him to get over it. No one really thinks he wears diapers. It was a fucking joke.”
“It’s…not Cousin George, Your Majesty.”
“Then who the fuck else in that House would have the balls to -“ Sérisse stopped. Her wings jostled in agitation. Thunder rumbled outside. “Seriously? Surely not. Surely.”
”I’m afraid so, Your Majesty,” the courier answered, “It seems Cousin Victoria is still very much…er…unhappy about the pearl necklace incident.”
“What pearl necklace incident?”
“Um…the one where…well…a pearl necklace went missing during the last time House d’Argelonne went to the British Court.”
“She lost a fucking necklace, and she’s going to not only blame me, but blockade my coast? She isn’t even monarch yet! Her turn doesn’t happen for decades; she can’t command the royal navy!”
“What you mean necklace go missing?” Athénaïs said abruptly, “You accusing us steal pearls?”
“N-no, Your Majesty, I’m not, I’m just saying that Cousin Victoria-“
“Is brat who have room full of scary little dolls with the faces like this.” Athénaïs paused to make the creepiest face ever, which was actually very accurate when it came to Cousin Victoria and her hundreds of dolls, “She probably leave necklace on doll number six and six and sixties and six.”
“You mean six-six-six,” Sérisse corrected.
“Is what I said, Sérisse.”
“Anyway,” Sérisse said, “Go tell that loud mouthed deranged chipmunk-“
Charlestre started laughing maniacally, then gestured to her siblings. Everyone drank. The courier didn’t move. Sérisse paused and continued.
“Anyway, I want you to go and let her know-“
More laugher. More drinking. Sérisse could feel her blood pressure starting to rise. Her wings flexed in agitation.
“Whatever you morons are trying to do, stop it,” Sérisse ordered to her drunken brood, “I’m not in any mood to deal with this bullshit, especially when someone has to go-“
Cackling, drinking, rinse and repeat. Okay, this was starting to really piss her off. She was trying to handle actual business and her children were acting like intoxicated hyenas.
“Tell Victoria that she has by sundown to get the fuck out of my waters, or shit is going to get very ugly very quickly,” Serisse barked. When the courier didn’t move quickly enough, Serisse erupted. “Well? What are you waiting for? Go! Go, Go, Go, Go, GO!”
The theater exploded into laughter. Every single member of House d’Argelonne drank in synchronization. Even Louis-Auguste and Antoinette.
“Told you,” Charon cackled to Charlestre, “I told you…best drinking game ever.”
“Damn it, I’m already at a disadvantage,” Marcellin slurred, “Why couldn’t you pick another of Maman’s inspiring phrases?”
“Because all Maman can say is GO. GO. ALL OF YOU. GO,” Absynthe laughed, “I mean seriously…how many times growing up did we hear that?”
“Marcellin-Renaud, GO,” Amelie cackled, “Before I stroke out over your out of tune singing.”
“Thierry-Chevalier, GO,” Charon laughed, “I don’t give a fuck that Charlestre took your alleged seat at mass. Just Go. Go, Go, Go, Go.”
Every time the word “Go” was used, her children drank. Those. Little. Bastards. They not only made a nickname out of a commonly used phrase, they turned it into a drinking game too.
Sérisse glared across the theater. Thunder rumbled outside. Charlestre stopped mid-sip of Champagne and pretended not to notice. Charon laughed so hard she spilled champagne all over her cravat. The rest of her children continued with their drinking and giggling and “I told you so’s.”
Athénaïs calmly raised her calash over her coiffure then pulled Pierre and Marie’s cloaks forward.
And then it began to rain. Inside the opera house. A torrential downfall of epic proportions. Everyone shrieked and began scrambling to cover themselves with cloaks, hats, pillows, anything they could.
Sérisse took a pull of her cigar, pulled Athénaïs close, kissed her deeply, and warded them away.