Phillipe and Chevleir had been engaged in an extraordinary affair ever since the two laid eyes upon eachother. Chevleir was a very flamboyant, flirtatious man. He didn't care much for dignity, or "purity". While Louis — Prince Louis — brother of the king, was quite the opposite.

Though unshy about his affairs, and his preferences for men rather than women, Phillipe was alot more tame than the apple of his eye, his Chevleir.

Living in a place of his brother's, having to share a bed chamber with his own wife was something he dreaded.

Well, he did like women, somewhat. And Henriette, his wife, was no match in his heart for his Chevleir. Louis was wearing a gorgeous waistcoat, of royal blue in an exquisite pattern, with puffed sleeves and buttons trailing down his waistcoat. He had curled, shoulder length hair, with brown coudroy pants and black riding boots.

He entered he and his wives before chambers. Phillipe shut the door behind himself, as his brother, the King, had two guards stationed at most doors of the palace. Phillipe was welcomed with the sight of Henrietta, his wife, doing some embroidery, to pass the time.

He saw alot of women doing that in court, gossiping over their sewing needles, whispering through their laced fans, hardly breathing through their corsets.

"There she is." he spoke, a charming smile upon his face. But that smile was not be trusted, as whenever he came to he and Henriette's bed chambers unannounced in the middle of the day, such as this, it meant Phillipe only wanted one thing.

"My beautiful wife." spoke Phillipe, almost mockingly as he walked behind Henriette, placing his cold hands on her bare shoulders and pressing a chaste kiss to her neck. His tone was practically sarcastic.