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anotherhumaninthisworld · 3 months

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Frev friendships — Fouché and the Robespierre siblings

A circumstance relating to one of the most important crises of my life must here be mentioned. By a singular chance, I had been acquainted with Maximilian Robespierre, at the time I was professor of philosophy in the town of Arras, and had even lent him money, to enable him to take up his abode in Paris, when he was appointed deputy to the National Assembly. Memoirs of Fouché (1825), volume 1, page 12. Fouché first arrived in Arras in 1788.

Robespierre didn’t like science, but he thought it useful for his vanity to research Fouché and to annoy him several hours per day in his office in order to acquire the reputation of scholar. Often, in order to appear intelligent, he interrupted his physics demonstrations to reproach him for being a materialist. Note written by Barère, probably shortly after thermidor. Cited in Fouché: les silences de la pieuvre (2014) by Emmanuel de Waresquiel.

Fouché’s first need […] was to tell me his entire life story, a recital that I find in my notes written down that very day as it seemed interesting for me to keep: […] I (Fouché) had known [Robespierre] since our youth, we had belonged to the same academy. I then had occasions to prove to him his inadequacy, a relative insufficiency because he was judged poorly. He had some talent, a strong, persevering will; simplicity, no greed; but he was all puffed up with a pride that I had humiliated. De 1800 à 1812. Un aide de camp de Napoléon. Mémoires du général compte de Ségar (1894), page 438. According to Robespierre (2014) by Hervé Leuwers, it would not appear Fouché joined the arrageois literary society Rosati of which Robespierre was a member, a claim which is nevertheless often invoked.

Fouché had shown the most ardent patriotism, the most sacred devotion since the beginning of the revolution. My brother, who believed him sincere, had accorded him his friendship and his esteem; he spoke to me of him as a proven democrat, and introduced him to me in praising him and asking me to give him my esteem. Fouché, after having been introduced to me by my brother, came to see me assiduously, and had those regards and attentions that one has for a person in whom one is particularly interested. Fouché was not handsome, but he had a charming wit and was extremely amiable. He spoke to me of marriage, and I admit that I felt no repugnance for that bond, and that I was well enough disposed to accord my hand to he whom my brother had introduced to me as a pure democrat and his friend. I did not know that Fouché was only a hypocrite, a swindler, a man without convictions, without morals, and capable of doing anything to satisfy his frenzied ambition. He knew so well how to disguise his vile sentiments and his malicious passions in my eyes as in my brother’s eyes, that I was his dupe as well as Maximilien. I responded to his proposition that I wanted to think about it and consult my brother, and I asked him the time to resolve myself. I spoke of it, effectively, to Robespierre, who showed no opposition to my union with Fouché. Mémoires de Charlotte Robespierre sur ses deux frères (1834) page 122-123. Charlotte places the courtship in the midst of the revolution, which can hardly be accurate given the fact Fouché was already married by then, but it does sound likely for it to have happened somewhere between 1788 and 1790, when both of them were unmarried and lived in Arras.

When [Robespierre and I] again met at the Convention, we, at first, saw each other frequently; but the difference of our opinions, and perhaps, the still greater dissimilarity of our dispositions, soon caused a separation. One day, at the conclusion of a dinner given at my house, Robespierre began to declaim with much violence against the Girondins, particularly abusing Vergniaud, who was present. I was much attached to Vergniaud, who was a great orator, and a man of unaffected manners. I went round to him, and advancing towards Robespierre, said to him, "Such violence may assuredly enlist the passions on your side, but will never obtain for you esteem and confidence." Robespierre, offended, left the room; and it will shortly be seen how far this malignant man carried his animosity against me. Memoirs of Fouché (1825), volume 1, page 12

Lamartine, in the first edition of his Girondins, wrote the following: ”A very small number of friends of Robespierre and Duplay were one after another taken into this intimity: sometimes the Lameths; Le Bas, Saint-Just, always; Panis, Sergent, Coffinhal, Fouché, who liked Robespierre’s sister and who Robespierre didn’t like, Taschereau, Legendre, Le Boucher, Merlin de Thionville, Couthon, Pétion, Camille Desmoulins, Buonarotti, roman patriot… […]” On the placard corrected by the widow and son of Philippe Le Bas, these words are replaced by the following ones: ”The Lamenths and Pétion in the early days, quite rarely Legendre, Merlin de Thionville and Fouché, who liked Robespierre’s sister and who Robespierre didn’t like, often Taschereau, Desmoulins and Teault, always Lebas, Saint-Just, David, Couthon and Buonarotti.” Le conventionnel Le Bas: d’après des documents inédits et les mémoires de sa veuve (1901) page 83-84. This could be read as Élisabeth Le Bas confirming, or at least not denying, that there existed links between Charlotte and Fouché.

…The representatives of the people in Commune-Affranchie, using the powers entrusted to them for the surrounding departments, have already purged several administrations in the department of Allier. So consult with your colleagues by going to Commune-Affranchie. The instructions that Fouché has acquired relative to the department of Allier, where he resided for a long time, will be all the more useful to you since, animated by the same principles, the same effects must result from your common energy. Letter from the CPS to Petitjean, written by Robespierre, January 8 1794

The Committee of Public Safety decides 1, that citizen Reverchon immediately travels to Ville-Affranchie to organise revolutionary government and that he, together with Méaulle, takes all the measures that the interests of the republic need. 2, that the representative Fouché immediately travels to Paris to give to the Committee of Public Safety the neccesary clarifications about the affairs in Ville-Affranchie 3, that all procedurs against the popular society in Ville-Affranchie, and especially against the patriots that were subjected to persecution under the reign of Précy and the federalistes, are suspended. The representative Reverchon and his colleges will severely persecute the enemies of the Republic, protect the true friends of the Republic, help the patriots in need and assure the triumph of liberty through a constant and inflexible energy. Committee of Public Safety decree recalling Fouché from Lyon, written by Robespierre (and signed by him, Collot d’Herbois, Billaud-Varennes, C-A Prieur, Carnot and Barère) on March 27 1794

The Committee of Public Safety, alarmed by the fate of patriots in Commune-Affranchie, considering that the oppression of a single one of them would be a triumph for the enemies of the Revolution and a mortal blow to freedom, orders that all proceedings against the Popular Society of Commune-Affranchie, and particularly against the patriots who were persecuted under the reign of the federalists and Precy, will be suspended: it further orders that the representative of people Fouché immediately travels to Paris to give to the Committee of Public Safety the neccesary clarifications about the affairs in Ville-Affranchie. Committee of Public Safety decree recalling Fouché from Lyon, written by Robespierre (and signed by him, Collot d’Herbois, Billaud-Varennes, C-A Prieur, Carnot, Barère, Saint-Just and Couthon) on March 27 1794 (don’t know why there exists two seperate decrees)

I have since learned that the step I took opposite Robespierre - viz, of calling upon him - was attempted about the same time, and with as little success, by Tallien and Fouché, each of them on his own part. I have learned that their eloquence likewise struck against a determined deaf-mute, and that to all their gentle, forcible, friendly, respectful, and feeling words Robespierre vouchsafed no other answer than an obstinate silence, an expressionless physiognomy, and neither word nor sign. There is in a like silence, on the part of a man wielding the scep tre of death, something more fearful to the imagination than uttered threats. Memoirs of Barras, member of the Directorate (1895) page 206

It is known well enough in what way [Collot and Fouché] conducted themselves [in Lyon]; it is known that they made blood flow in torrents, and plunged the second city of the republic into fright and consternation. Robespierre was outraged by it. […] I was present for the interview that Fouché had with Robespierre upon his return. My brother asked him to account for the bloodshed he had caused, and reproached him for his conduct with such energy of expression that Fouché was pale and trembling. He mumbled a few excuses and blamed the cruel measures he had taken on the gravity of the circumstances. Robespierre replied that nothing could justify the cruelties of which he had been guilty; that Lyon, it was true, had been in insurrection against the National Convention, but that that was no reason to have unarmed enemies gunned down en masse. From that day forth, Fouché was the most irreconcilable enemy of my brother, and joined the faction conspiring his death. I would only learn this later. Fouché never again set foot in my apartment, but I met him from time to time on the Champs-Elysées, where walked almost every day. He addressed me as if nothing had happened between him and my brother. When I learned that he was Maximilien’s declared enemy, I no longer wanted to talk to him. Despicable words have been spoken about me on the subject of that man, some have dared to say that I was his mistress before and after 9 Thermidor; this is an abominable calumny! Never did Fouché cease to have the greatest respect for me; and if in his discourse he had included any words tending to make me neglect my duty, I would have left him that very instant. Besides, Fouché had only sought my hand because my eldest brother occupied premier place on the political stage. That honorific of Robespierre’s brother-in-law flattered his pride and his ambition; to judge by that man’s conduct since, everything was a calculation with him, and, if he pretended to love me, that’s because he saw it was in his interest. What would have become of me if I had married such a being? Mémoires de Charlotte Robespierre sur ses deux frères (1834)

Robespierre murmured a lot about the forms that we had established in Lyon for the execution of decrees: he constantly repeated that there was no reason to judge the guilty when they are outlawed. He exclaimed that we had let the families of the condemned go free; and when the commission sent the Convention and the committee the list of its judgments, he was not in control of his anger as he cast his eyes on the column where the names of the citizens who had been acquitted were written. Unable to change anything in the forms of judgment, regulated according to the decrees and approved by the committee, he imagined another system; he questioned whether the patriots of Commune-Affranchie were not vexed and under oppression. They were, he said, because the property of the condemned being specially intended, by article IV of the decree of July 12, to become their patrimony, we had greatly reduced their claims, not only by not judging only a quarter of the number of conspirators identified by Dubois-Crancé on 23 Vendémiare, or designated by previous decrees, but also by establishing a commission which appeared willing to acquit two thirds, as it happened. Through these declamations Robespierre wanted to entertain the patriots of whom he spoke, with the most violent ideas, to throw into their minds a framework of extraordinary measures, and to put them in opposition with the representatives of the people and their closest cooperators: he made them understand that they could count on him, he emboldened them to form all kinds of obstacles, to only follow his indications which he presented as being the intentions of the Committee of Public Safety. Collot d’Herbois’ explanation of Robespierre’s dislike for his and Fouché’s Lyon activities in Défense de J-M. Collot, répresentant du peuple. Éclaircissemens nécessaires sur ce qui s’est passé à Lyon (alors Commune-Affranchie), l’année dernière; pour faire suite aux rapports des Répresentants du peuple, envoyés vers cette commune, avant, pendant et après le siège (1794), somewhat the polar opposite of Charlotte’s version.

Robespierre accused Fouché of having dishonored the Revolution by exaggerating all measures and erecting atheism as a doctrine. ”No, Fouché," he said to him in the hall of the Jacobins, ”death is not an eternal sleep." Besides, to use his own expression, he believed he "held him in his power in the matter of honesty,” as Fouché had been charged with not having been any too strictly faithful on the occasion of his mission to Lyons, where, outstripping his epoch in those early days, he was believed to have enjoyed a foretaste of that corrupt century. Reports, possibly mendacious, had reached Robespierre, according to which Fouché is said to have, in the midst of the demolition of the dwellings in the town doomed to endure his cruelty, behaved somewhat like the incendiaries who carry on their business by the light of the flames. It is that which caused Robespierre to assume so lofty a manner against Fouché, because Fouché was supposed to have begun "to make money" at a time when no one in the Republic had so far dreamed of doing such a thing, either because of the Terror, which was not disposed to indulgence towards thieves, or because of a sentiment of genuine honesty which dominated men whose sole thought was the defence of the Republic. Memoirs of Barras, member of the Directorate (1895) page 208-209

Fouché reads a report regarding Commune-Affranchie, where he was sent. After having brought up the slander repeated against the representatives sent to this commune, he proves by several observations the need of the measures that they took and the punishments that they handed out. He proves that the blood of crime fertilizes the soil of liberty and consolidates its power on unshakeable foundations. He also develops through much reflection the measures he was obliged to take in the last moments.

A citizen demands the floor in order to speak against Fouché.

Robespierre, after having declared that Fouché’s report is incomplete, pays homage to the patriotism of this representative and to the citizen who presented himself to speak against him. He presents some observations on what has gone down in Commune-Affranchie, and announces that the patriots, the friends of Chalier, and the companions of his suffering have been too modest against the schemers who put themselves in their place, and who introduced themselves among the patriots sent from Paris. He protests that without the schemers, the true patriots already would have plunged the whole conspiracy into nothingness. He recognizes that they have legitimate complaints to make, but he assures that the Committee of Public Safety, which is aware of them, has taken all the necessary measures to establish liberty in these unfortunate countries. Consequently, he invites the patriot who wants to speak, to put aside any kind of bitterness, to develop the facts and to give the knowledge that he considers useful.

I recognize, says this citizen, the validity of the principles of Robespierre, you will subsequently know all the facts. The truth will pierce through all the clouds; I’m backing down. (applauds) Robespierre and Fouché at the Jacobins, April 8 1794

Sure of having sown the seed, I had the courage to defy [Robespierre], on the 20th Prairial (June 8 1794), a day on which, actuated with the ridiculous idea of solemnly acknowledging the existence of the Supreme Being, he dared to proclaim himself both his will and agent, in presence of all the people assembled at the Tuileries. As he was ascending the steps of his lofty tribune, whence he was to proclaim his manifesto in favour of God, I predicted to him aloud (twenty of my colleagues heard it) that his fall was near. Memoirs of Fouché (1825) page 20

A deputation from the Society of Nevers presents itself at the tribune in order to repel charges directed against it. After having summarized the things done for the public sake by the Society which has sent him, the orator announces that the patriots have their souls broken and compromised in Nevers, because of atrocious persecutions of which they are every day the unfortunate victims.

Fouché (currently serving as president of the Jacobins): Your society deserves severe reproaches. If it is true to say that the impure breath of Chaumette could not exert its disastrous influence there during his stay in Nevers, it seems at least certain that the shadow of this conspirator hovers there today. Imprisoned suspects were released, and your Society made no complaint. Ardent and pure patriots, true sans-culottes, were slandered by federalist lawyers, and your Society remained silent. Finally, its correspondence is insignificant, it is null. As the Jacobins do not know how to disguise any truth, I make it my duty, on their behalf, to point out some false and very weak ideas that you have just expressed. The patriots, you say, have their souls compromised at this moment in Nevers. Citizens, strong hearts can never be compromised; Republicans know how to die for the truth as well as for liberty, and the perfidious person who tells you that he is not free to express his thoughts is a coward; the crime is in his heart, he complains of not being able to produce it. You hand us, as proof of your opposition to the maxims of the conspirators, the celebration that you are preparing for the Supreme Being; but in this you are only obeying the impulse given to nature. Add to this natural impulse the strength and courage to dedicate yourself to the defense of patriots and the annihilation of their oppressors; the exercise of democratic virtues. Brutus paid homage worthy of the Supreme Being by bringing the blade into the heart of the one who conspired against the liberty of his homeland.

I don't know, says Robespierre immediately, if the Society understood the motive and the object of the approach of the members of the Society of Nevers; I ask if the president's response can shed some light on this point. For my part, I assure you that I don't understand anything about it. If the president knows everything that concerns morals, it is his duty to explain. Everyone knows that Nevers was one of the main centers of the conspiracies hatched by Chaumette, in concert with the supporters of the foreign faction. We must remember that he abandoned his post as national agent, near the Paris Commune where he appeared to play a major role, to go, under a frivolous pretext, to plot in the commune of Nevers: it is important that we learn from what we were able to discover on such a journey. I ask that the president explain his response to us, and tell us frankly what he thinks.

Fouché takes the floor to give clarifications. He announces that, having served as representative of the people in the department of Nièvre at the time when the scoundrel Chaumette arrived in Nevers under the pretext of enjoying the native air, he didn’t hear from his mouth any counterrevolutionary expression; that he only saw him while in public, that, the popular society believing this Chaumette to be a zealous defender of liberty, it took him in without difficulty and without defiance. Fouché thinks that this immoral man hid away, because he saw the constitutional authorities strongly attached to good principles, and that he conspired in secret, and then returned to Paris to there continue his execrable profession of assassin of all public and private morality. As for the deputation that has just been heard, Fouché declares that, as the Society of Nevers has been indirectly attacked, it will send a deputation of its members to respond to the imputations that have been made against it, that there was a time when suspicious people, arrested, then released, and finally imprisoned again, managed to obtain an arrest order against the patriots. “This,” he says, “is all I know; I reproached the deputation on the weakness of the letters written by the Society of Nevers, and on the insignificance of its correspondence. The deputation presented its address to me when it entered, and it is on that I’m basing my answer.

Robespierre is surprised that the president and the delegation only say insignificant things that cannot enlighten the Society. He declares that Chaumette having hatched his plots in Nevers, it is impossible that neither the representative nor the Société populaire had knowledge of some of the maneuvers he employed. He recalls that at the moment when the Convention took a vigorous decision against the infernal plot of Chaumette, the Society of Nevers sent the Convention an address in which the decree was faulted.

Fouché observes that this adress wasn’t from the Society of Nevers, but from that of Moulins.

Robespierre replies that the latter is right next to to the other, that both corresponded to each other and that the information must have been the same; he continues by maintaining that the Society is isn’t instructed by the details that have just been given to it, and one has not sufficiently characterized the men who are called patriots, and those who are declared triumphant aristocrats. He is surprised to hear congratulations on the decree issued yesterday, mixed with observations presented by the Society of Nevers, as if this society could be aware of this decree. It is not by sentences, as he observes, but by conduct and facts that one must judge men: instead of stopping at the language of the deputation, one must ask the Society of Nevers if it fought Chaumette and foiled his horrible schemes? Very often the greatest enemies of the people use republican expressions, to better deceive unsuspecting citizens. It is not a question, he says, of throwing mud on the grave of Chaumette, when this monster has already perished on the scaffold. For a long time people have done evil while speaking the language of republicans. Today someone is spewing imprecations against Danton, who until recently was his accomplice. There are others who appear all fired up to defend the Committee of Public Safety, and who then sharpen daggers against it. The enemies of liberty have retained the same audacity, they have not changed their system; they do not want to appear to separate themselves from the patriots; they praise and flatter them; they even make vague imprecations against tyrants, and at the same time they conspire for their cause! It is to their friends the conspirators that they give the name of patriots; and it is the latter that they designate by the name of aristocrats: they surround the Committee of Public Safety and the representatives of the people only to intrigue, to lead them astray and thus destroy the Revolution. There are still two parties within the Republic: on the one hand patriotism and probity; on the other, the counter-revolutionary spirit, the crookedness and the improbity which are bent on the ruin of empires and the virtue of humankind. Patriots, you who in the career of the Revolution have only sought the public good, you who did nor go into it to serve a criminal faction, be more than ever on your guard; evil men use all imaginable artifices to destroy the Convention and slaughter the defenders of the homeland. Do not fall asleep in a false security, do not abandon the Convention and the government of which it is the center: let courageous voices be raised to make the truth known, stifle the clamors of the intriguers who surround us daily, who change patriotism into aristocracy, and reciprocally aristocracy into patriotism. Do not tire of instructing us, rest assured that the wish to sacrifice ourselves for all patriots is always deeply engraved in our hearts, that we are resolved to defend persecuted virtue with all our power, and to fight with strength and constancy the enemies of liberty and patriotism. This is the wish that I address, on behalf of the representatives, to the oppressed patriots; it is not natural that we remain indifferent on their account: the first of the republican virtues is to watch over innocence. Pure patriots, one is waging a war to the death against you, save yourselves, save with you all the friends of liberty.

Robespierre’s speech is followed by the liveliest applause.

Fouché observes that he hasn’t wanted to reproach the Society of Nevers for not having denounced Chaumette. This society didn’t know him as a conspirator, it wouldn’t have been late to accuse him warmly, had it suspected him of this. Robespierre and Fouché at the Jacobins, June 11 1794

Five days after (June 12) in full committee, [Robespierre] demanded my head and that of eight of my friends, reserving to himself the destruction of twenty more at a later period. How great was his astonishment, and what was his rage, upon finding amongst the members of the committee an invincible opposition to his sanguinary designs against the national representation! It has already been too much mutilated, said they to him, and it is high time to put a stop to a deliberate and progressive cutting-down, which at last will include ourselves. Finding himself in a minority, he withdrew, choked with rage and disappointment, swearing never to set foot again in the committee, so long as his will should be opposed. He immediately sent for St. Just, who was with the army, rallied Couthon under his sanguinary banner, and by his influence over the revolutionary tribunal, still made the Convention, and all those who were operated on by fear, to tremble. Memoirs of Fouché (1825), volume 1, page 20

Robespierre: The example of Commune-Affranchie can explain a theory that I have already noted. The patriots defend the patriots with all their means; they give no rest to the intriguers and traitors, they constantly badger and fight them; aristocrats do precisely the opposite. I knew Chalier at a time when the patriotic representatives of the people were themselves persecuted. It was he who first discovered Roland's perfidy, and denounced him to me for keeping an immense store of libels at his home, directed against the Mountain and against me. Chalier had no sooner known this conspiring minister than he abandoned him and renounced the justice he had come to demand from him, not wanting to owe anything to a traitor who sought to ignite civil war in France.

[Robespierre] adds that since this moment he has only known Chalier through the acts of heroism and virtue which immortalized his name. The enemies of the people were only able to establish their triumph through the assassination of this man, as patriotic as he was intrepid. He recalls the courage of this republican at the time of his torture, prolonged by the villainy of the aristocrats of Lyon who brought the ax down on his head four times, which he raised each time, crying out in a dying voice: Long live the Republic, attach the cockade to me.

After this touching story, Robespierre goes into detail about the services rendered by Chalier's friends; he knows them all, he also knows their persecutors. The fate of the former was to be oppressed by all the factions that succeeded one another. They opposed these tyrannical and unprecedented vexations with a calm and patience of which it is impossible to find an example in the history of any people.

When the overly prolonged siege of Lyon was over, and this commune had been returned to the power of the Republic, the friends of Chalier were not restored to the goodness that they had so well deserved by their constant virtue. One took care to make sure Précy and all the other conspirators escaped, although one went so far as to making the trick of the Committee the supposed remains of this monster. The gate of Lyon was opened to them at the very moment when the Republican army entered, and they left through the gate where the army corps commanded by Dubois-Crancé was, which remained motionless.

Another cause of the impunity of the conspirators is that national justice has not been exercised with the degree of force and action that the interests of a great people require and command. The temporary commission initially displayed energy, but soon it gave way to human weakness which too soon tires of serving the homeland, and it lost with all its courage, its devotion and its purity. After having given in to the insinuations of the perverse aristocrats, the persecution was established against the patriots themselves: the cause of this criminal change can be found in the seduction of certain women, and it is to these terrible maneuvers that we can attribute the despair that led Gaillard to kill himself.

Reduced to escape, the patriots come to submit their complaints to the Committee of Public Safety, which rescues them from persecution, and suppresses their odious persecutors with fear. Thus, virtue will be eternally exposed to the traits of two factions which, opposed in apperance, always rally to sacrifice the patriots. Here [Robespierre] swears to avenge Chalier, Gaillard and all the victims of the infamous aristocracy.

The speaker's principles are to stop the shedding of human blood caused by crime: the authors of the plots denounced, on the contrary, only aspire to immolate all patriots and especially the National Convention, since the Committee indicated the vices from which it must purge itself. Who are those who have constantly distinguished error from crime, and who have defended lost patriots? Isn’t it the members of the Committee? Those who demand justice can only be formidable to the leaders of the factions, and those who want to destroy the members of the Committee in public opinion can have no other intention than to serve the projects of the tyrants interested in the fall of a Committee which disconcerts them and will soon destroy them.

Robespierre ends by denouncing the author of all these maneuvers who is the same one who persecuted the patriots at Commune-Affranchie, with a cunning, a perfidy as cowardly as it is cruel: the Committee of Public Safety was not his dupe. He asks, finally, that justice and virtue triumph, that innocence be peaceful and the people victorious over all their enemies, and that the Convention puts all petty intrigues under its feet.

Couthon, who had interrupted Robespierre in order to cite charges against Dubois-Crancé regarding the siege of Commune-Affranchie, proposes that he be struck from the club’s list of members (adopted).

At the suggestion of Robespierre, Fouché is invited to come and exonerate himself of the reproaches which have been addressed to him before the Society. Robespierre at the Jacobins, July 11 1794

One reads a letter from Fouché, in which he asks the Society to suspend their judgement up until the Committees of Public Safety and General Security have made their report on his private and public conduct.

Robespierre: I begin by making the declaration that I am not interested in the individual Fouché at all. I could be connected to him because I thought him a patriot. When I denounced him here, it was less because of his past crimes than because he hid away in order to commit others, and because I regarded him as the leader of the conspiracy which we have to thwart.

I examine the letter which was just read out, and I see that it is written by a man who, being accused for crimes, refuses to justify himself before his fellow citizens. This is the beginning of a system of tyranny. He who refuses to answer to a Popular Society whose member he is, is a man who attacks the institution of Popular Societies. This contempt for the Society of the Jacobins is all the more inexcusable as Fouché himself has not refused his suffrage when he was denounced by the patriots from Nevers, and as he even took refuge on the [president’s] seat of the Jacobins. He was placed there because he had agents in this Society, who had been at Commune-Affranchie. He delivers a great speech to you on his conduct in the mission with which he had been charged. I will not seek to analyse this speech. The Society has judged that Fouché does not want to say anything, as his reflections are insignificant.

It is surprising that the one who, at the time of which I speak, craved the approval of the Society, neglects it when he is denounced, and that he seems to implore, so to speak, the aid of the Convention against the Jacobins. Does he fear the eyes and ears of the people? Does he fear that his sad face visibly presents crime, that six thousand looks fixed on him discover his entire soul in his eyes, and that, in spite of nature which has hidden them, one reads his thoughts there? Does he fear that his speech reveals the embarrassment and the contradictions of a culprit? A reasonable man has to judge that fear is the only motive of Fouché’s conduct ; well, the man who fears the looks of his fellow citizens is a culprit. He uses [the fact] as a pretext that his denunciation is sent to the Committee of Public Safety ; but is he forgetting that the tribunal of the public conscience is the most infallible? Why does he refuse to present himself here?

The obligation to give an account of his mission to the Committees of Public Safety and of General Security, which are the government, and to the Convention, which is its source or, rather, which is the government by definition, this obligation, I say, does not destroy the one of appearing respectable in the eyes of a Society, and does not excuse appearing to put it in contradiction with the Convention. A representative is responsible for his actions to the Convention; but a good citizen does not discard appearing before his fellow citizens. If the system of Fouché could dominate, it would follow that those who have denounced schemes outside of the Convention have committed a crime. This was the conduct of all conspirators, who, from the moment onwards when one has wanted to judge them, shunned this Society and denounced it to the different National Assemblies as a gathering of factious [persons].

I here call Fouché into judgement. He shall respond and he shall say who, among him and us, has borne the rights of the representatives of the people with more dignity, and struck down all factions with more courage? Was it him who unveiled the Héberts and the Chaumettes, when they hatched assassination plots and wanted to debase the Convention? No! It was us who, on this tribune, when the Hébertists claimed to be more patriotic than us, unmasked them openly. It was us who silenced the false denunciations.

They shall say if they would have been listened to here, these men who had only served the Revolution in order to dishonour it and to make it turn to the benefit of the foreign [powers] and of the aristocracy! All the vile agents who have conspired did not see their likes unveiled and punished sooner than they seemed to abandon their cause ; and, because we had dismissed the perfidiously spread calumnies against the Convention, they extended this principle onto themselves in such a way as to render it tyrannical. The slightest words against this kind of men have been regarded as crimes by them; terror was the means which they used in order to force the patriots into silence. They threw those into prison who had the courage to break it; and this is the crime for which I reproach Fouché!

He will not say that it were the principles of the Convention that he has professed ; the intention of the Convention is not to throw terror into the soul of the patriots, nor to carry out the dissolution of the Popular Societies. Which means would thus remain to us, if, while plotters conspire and prepare daggers in order to assassinate us, we could not speak in the presence of the Friends of Liberty?

Robespierre then declares that Fouché is a vile and despicable impostor ; that his move is the confession of his crimes and that the action which he takes is similar to the one of the Brissots and of the other crooks who slander the Society as soon as they are chased from it. He assures that virtue will never sacrificed to baseness, nor [will] liberty [be sacrificed] to men whose hands are full of rapines and crimes. I do not want to add anything, he says while closing; Fouché himself has characterised himself enough. I have made all these observations, so that the conspirators know once and for all that they must never hope to escape the surveillance of the people.

A citizen from Commune-Affranchie reports some serious facts against Fouché. The Society sends them to the Committee of Public Safety and, upon the motion of a member, Fouché is excluded from the Society.

The citizens Tolède and Dessyrier, who found themselves at Commune-Affranchie in the days of Fouché, and who claim to be accused, mount the tribune.

Robespierre observes that these two citizens divert, without wanting it, the attention away from Fouché, and that his cause must not be common with theirs. He recalls that the conspirators have always sought to save themselves by placing themselves beside pure patriots ; he hence invites Tolède and Dessyrier not to interrupt a discussion wherein they are not involved. – After members did justice to the patriotism of these citizens, they descend from the tribune. Robespierre at the Jacobins, July 14 1794

They are strange accomplices of Robespierre, those who, against his will, made a political report on the religious troubles, sheltered from all research in this matter the representatives of the people sent on mission in the departments, defended Tallien, Dubois-Crance, Fouché, Bourdon de l'Oise, and other representatives whom he relentlessly pursued. Réponse des membres des deux anciens Comités de Salut Public et de sûreté générale aux imputations renouvelées contre eux par Laurent Lecointre, de Versailles, et déclarées calomnieuses par décret du 13 fructidor dernier, à la Convention Nationale (1795) by Barère, Collot d’Herbois, Vadier and Billaud-Varennes

One man alone in the Convention appeared to enjoy an inexpugnable popularity: this was Robespierre, a man full of pride and cunning; an envious and vindictive being, who was never satiated with the blood of his colleagues; and who, by his capacity, steadiness, the clearness of his head, and the obstinacy of his character, surmounted circumstances the most appalling. Availing himself of his preponderance in the Committee of Public Safety, he openly aspired, not only to the tyranny of the decemviri, but to the despotism of the dictatorship of Marius and Sylla. One step more would have given him the masterdom of the revolution, which it was his audacious ambition to govern at his will; but thirty victims more were to be sacrificed, and he had marked them out in the convention.

He well knew that I understood him; and I, therefore, was honoured by being inscribed upon his tablets at the head of those doomed to destruction. I was still on a mission, when he accused me of oppressing the patriots and tampering with the aristocracy. Being recalled to Paris, I dared to call upon him from the tribune, to make good his accusation. He caused me to be expelled from the Jacobins, of whom he was the high-priest; this was for me equivalent to a decree of proscription. I did not trifle in contending for my head, nor in long and secret deliberations with such of my colleagues as were threatened with my own fate. I merely said to them, among others to Legendre, Tallien, Dubois de Crancé, Daunou and Chénier: “You are on the list, you are on the list as well as myself, I am certain of it!” Tallien, Barras, Bourdon de l'Oise and Dubois de Crancé evinced some energy. Tallien contended for two lives, of which one was then dearer to him than his own: he therefore resolved upon assassinating the future dictator, even in the Convention itself. But what a hazardous chance was this! Robespierre’s popularity would have survived him, and we should have been immolated to his manes. I therefore dissuaded Tallien from an isolated enterprise, which would have destroyed the man, but preserved his system.

Convinced that other means must be resorted to, I went straight to those who shared with Robespierre the government of terror, and whom I knew to be envious or fearful of his immense popularity. I revealed to Collot d'Herbois, to Carnot, to Billaud-Varennes, the designs of the modern Appius; and I presented to each of them separately, so lively and so true a picture of the danger of their situation, I urged them with so much address and good fortune, that I insinuated into their breasts more than mistrust, but the courage of henceforth opposing the Tyrant in any further decimating of the Convention. "Count the votes,” said I to them, “in your committee, and you will see, that when you are determined, he will be reduced to the powerless minority of a Couthon and a Saint-Just. Refuse him your votes, and compel him to stand alone by your vis inertiæ.” But what contrivances, what expedients were necessary to avoid exasperating the Jacobin club, the Seides, and the partisans of Robespierre.

My eye was on him; and seeing him reduced to a single faction, I secretly urged such of his enemies who still clung to the committee, at least to remove the artillery from Paris, who were all devoted to Robespierre and the Commune, and to deprive Henriot of his command or at least to suspend him. The first measure I obtained, thanks to the firmness of Carnot, who alleged the necessity of sending reinforcements of artillery to the army. As to depriving Henriot of his command, that appeared too hazardous; Henriot remained, and was near losing all, or rather, to speak the truth, it was he, who on the 9th Thermidor (the 27th July) ruined the cause of Robespierre, the triumph of which was for a short time in his power. But what could be expected from a drunken and stupid ci-devant footman.

What follows is too well known for me to dwell upon it. It is notorious how Maximilian the First perished; a man whom certain authors have compared to the Gracchi, to whom he bore not the slightest resemblance, either in eloquence or elevation of mind. I confess that in the delirium of victory, I said to those who thought that his views tended to the dictatorship: "You do him too much honour; he had neither plan, nor design: far from disposing of futurity, he was drawn along, and did but obey an impulse he could neither oppose nor govern." But at that time I was too near a spectator of events justly to appreciate their history. The sudden overthrow of the dreadful system which suspended the nation between life and death, was doubtless a grand epoch of liberty; but, in this world, good is ever mixed with evil. What took place after Robespierre's fall? that which we have seen to have been the case after a fall still more memorable. Those who had crouched most abjectly before the decemvir, could, after his death, find no expression strong enough to express their detestation of him. Memoirs of Fouché (1825), volume 1, page 18-22

…The fact is that, sent [to Lyon], after the sack of this city, I (Fouché) returned in revolt, with a report against Robespierre, and that, from this moment up until Thermidor, I was his declared rival! Robespierre had established himself at the Jacobins, and I in the Committees, from where I expelled him; you'll see! I was a Jacobin myself, but there were two kinds. As for us, we were not popular; we talked about equality, but deep down we were aristocrats! Yes, more aristocratic than anyone perhaps! The Jacobins of the opposite party, such as Hullin, paved the way; they would shout in the crowd on the floor; we only saw them in the stands. It was Robespierre’s henchmen who flattered this populace; Robespierre was its leader, its soul, attempting to reign through them and crush the Convention! But we were his antagonists there, me at the head! He feared me. […] [The fact that I had humiliated his pride] was enough to be certain that he would be my mortal enemy, his hateful and envious character would never forgive me for it, no more than Lacuée who, if it wasn’t for Carnot, he would have had guillotined! […] I understood that you couldn’t go and fight such a man in his club; that I there would be dominated, crushed, and that to resist it, it was necessary to choose another terrain, that is to say the Convention itself and its Committees. It was therefore there that, on my return from Lyon, I began with a report on what needed to be done to stop the complete disorganization of this province, of which I accused Robespierre. People were surprised and terrified by my audacity, Carnot among others, who in his emotion embraced me, praising my courage, but warning me that it would cost me my head! This did not stop me, I persisted; and, addressing all the enemies of the Dictator, either separately or in meetings that I convened as head of public education, I reassured them, encouraged them, and got the Committee to call Robespierre before it to defend itself. It was putting him in a false position, he did not accept it; he refused to present himself and confined himself to the Jacobins, where I proposed to have him attacked, seized as a rebel and thrown into the river! We were preparing the means when the 9th of Thermidor arrived, the day when Tallien, single-handedly, unexpectedly, without having warned us, without knowing our project, warning us, denounced Robespierre as the tyrant of his colleagues! He cited me in support of this questioning, to which Robespierre replied that this was a duel between him and me! You know the rest. But what we don't know is that, under the Directory, it was again me who destroyed the tail of this party, after having thus fought its head! De 1800 à 1812. Un aide de camp de Napoléon. Mémoires du général compte de Ségar (1894), page 437-438

The primary object of [Robespierre’s] ambition seemed to be to strike, in the first place, what remained or what might spring up again of those he looked upon as his personal enemies, of whom in his hatred he never lost sight. At the head of those he had marked for death stood Fouché, and as, in view of the point his personal quarrel with Robespierre had reached, he could not but succumb within a very short time, it had been concluded therefrom that he was to be one of those who would deal the first blows at Robespierre.

But the arguments brought into play to convince Fouché of his danger were not sufficient to inspire him with courage. He had certainly been at all times an ultra-Revolutionist, and had shown what he was made of in his support of the system of terror; but he had not exactly hit the idea of Robespierre, or rather he had become his rival, and had given him offence by going even further than he did. Fouché's position was therefore not one to afford him opposite his enemy a frank and clearly defined character enabling him to attack him openly. Robespierre had told Fouché that his face was the expression of crime. Fouché, far from replying, took it as a matter of course; expelled from the Jacobins, he had not been able to return to the fold; he no longer dared show himself even in the Convention, but busied himself actively and with a will with intrigues and machinations of the lowest kind. I sent him hither and thither to inform our friends of what we knew of the intentions of Robespierre, Saint-Just, and Couthon. His personal dread of the triumvirs served but to increase in his eyes the idea of their hostile plans. Everything that he already dreaded most sincerely was artfully exaggerated by him when seeking to stimulate those whom he sought to induce to make up their minds to action. Rising at early morning, he would run round till night calling on deputies of all shades of opinion, saying to each and everyone, "You perish tomorrow if he does not.” To those who mourned Danton, and who were threatened with the resentment of his executioners, Fouché said: ”We may, if we see fit, be avenged tomorrow, and tomorrow only will we be safe.”

In order to instil fresh courage into minds so stricken with fright more than one speech was required to place the question before each and every one in such a way that he should see his own interests in it. Hence it cannot be denied that Fouché, gathering together by his clever intriguing all sentiments against Robespierre, was a genuine resource in the midst of the elements extant ready to make a decisive move against the oppressors of the Convention. […] Matters were growing worse apace; no longer was there any possibility of a reconciliation, even under the mask of mutual deceit. Not only had hostilities been declared, but a war to the knife proclaimed. In spite of all Fouché's prudence, a letter written in his own hand had been intercepted, containing particularly the following line addressed to a colleague in the Convention: ”Ere a fortnight has rolled over us either Maximilien or we shall have ceased to exist." Hence the quarrel could end only by the destruction of one side or the other; nothing was left but to conquer or die.

Even at a time when he was brought face to face with the necessity of defending himself, it was not in Fouché to do so aboveboard. Indirect means, those of ceaseless and underground intrigue, in which he had served his apprenticeship at the Oratory, he was familiar with; and just as everything comes handy in a household, so in a conspiracy, which is itself but an intrigue more serious than others, skill and manoeuvring constitute the necessary elements; and it will be seen that Fouché was to be, if not by his courage, at least by his doings, a useful cooperator in what was about to take place. He has, in later days, boasted that he dealt mortal blows to Robespierre; the fact is that in order to flee from his wrath and, if he could have done so; from his relentless memory, Fouché no longer appeared at the National Convention nor slept at home; it was at night alone that, under various disguises, he would go the rounds of such of his colleagues as were busily engaged in preparing means of defence against Robespierre, and bring and carry from one to the other every particular as to what was taking place, and go on the errands it was requisite should be dextrously done in order to cement the alliances we were forming pending the moment, impossible to positively determine, when the decisive blow was to be struck. Memoirs of Barras, member of the Directorate (1895) page 207-214

Legendre: […] I did not see Fouché during his missions, but I saw him at the Jacobins; he surrounded himself with all the men who, before the 9th of Thermidor, were preparing for this great day. There he openly attacked Robespierre who, wanting to manage him or give himself the means to destroy him, had him named president of the Jacobins. Fouché seized this post to attack Robespierre more openly, and in his responses he designated this tyrant whom it was necessary to strike. I declare that I see Fouché as one of the elements of the day of 9 Thermidor. Tallien: On Germinal 12, at the time when I believed I saw in Fouché a man linked to the conspirators, I had the courage to denounce him. Since that time, I have had no relationship with him, but it is my duty to defend him by attesting to the facts that are within my knowledge. Fouché was proscribed by Robespierre, because he had opposed the measures taken by Collot in Lyon. Fouché courageously unmasked Robespierre, and declared that, even if his head fell, he would make this dictator known to the people. Every day Fouché came to report to us what was happening at the Committee of Public Safety, and the day before the 9th of Thermidor he told us: “The division is complete, tomorrow we must strike.” The next day, the tyrant was no more. Fouché, at the same time, wrote to his sister: “In a short time the tyrant shall be punished. Robespierre only have a few days left to reign.” This letter was intercepted by Bô, who sent it to Robespierre. These are the facts I had to make known. Legendre and Tallien at the Convention, August 9 1794

Madame Collot (d’Herbois) Mademoiselle Robespierre (their titles are common as well as their distress) Per month: 200 pounds Per year: 2400 pounds for special help. Collective decree granting Charlotte a pension from Minister of Police Fouché dated February 8 1805, cited in Charlotte Robespierre et ses amis (1961) by Gabriel Pioro and Pierre Labracherie.

#fouché wanting to throw robespierre into the seine😂😭#fouché #robespierre #maximilien robespierre #charlotte robespierre #joseph fouché #frev friendships #frev #french revolution

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nyhti · 4 months

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I wanted to draw him more accurately to how Breyfogle drew him in Batman: Shadow of the Bat #1-4 You know what caught my eye as I was flipping through these issues again? Jerry calling Maximilian Zeus "Maxie". It's evident that Jeremiah's character changed a lot over the years that Grant wrote him. Most obvious change is him never being the villain again in Grant's stories after The Last Arkham, but there are other changes as well, like him becoming more mellow, more mousy, more boring over time, unfortunately. But one little change that I liked was in the way that he speaks. He speaks so normally in The Last Arkham that, after reading later Jerry stories by Grant, feels almost out of character. In later stories he started speaking in that: "We mustn't" and "I shan't" kind of way. That's why the line: "He'll never walk again, man!" from Batman: Shadow of the Bat #1 fucks me up every time, because I just simply cannot imagine Jeremiah ever saying ”man”. Another thing is him developing a weird allergy for using nicknames later on. He just refused to use nicknames for some reason, so when he said "Maxie", it really stuck out to me. Jerry in later issues would've 100% called him Maximilian. Even though I think Jeremiah's character really went down hill after Madmen Across the Water (Showcase 94' #3-4), it is incredibly interesting to look at all the ways he changed.

#jeremiah arkham #my art

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best-habsburg-monarch · 4 months

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To be honest, this has been harder to theme since Franz Joseph lost his quarterfinal. So here's what I've got: look at these (allegedly) bisexual weirdos. No one produces bisexual art and science bitches quite like this dynasty.

Maximilian , Emperor of Mexico, reign: 1864-1867

Rudolph II, Holy Roman Emperor, reign: 1576-1612

Propaganda under the cut:

Maximilian

From: anon

- He loved plants

- He was a sassy man

- He had good taste

- He learned Nahuatl

- He’s cute (I mean look at him)

- He said “gay rights”

- He banned child labour in Mexico

- He gave many rights back to indigenous people

- Bro was wronged by France (haven’t we all?)

- He’s baby

- Got executed, come on, give him this guys 🥺

- He loved to design gardens and collect insects which makes me think he would've loved playing animal crossing

- An outspoken liberal in a period where the monarchy was still quite conservative.

- Vice-Admiral of the Navy who initiated scientific projects and exploration.

- Aesthetic girlie. Collected flowers, painted, wrote poetry, and kept a journal. He would have loved Tumblr.

- (Probably) gay or bisexual.

- Allegedly slapped Franz Joseph for refusing to allow Lombardy to have an elective body.

- Sisi's favorite brother-in-law (and not in a romantic way, fuck you Netflix)

- Refused to take the Mexican crown until a plebiscite had been held because he wanted to be invited by the Mexican people.

- Gave up all of his Austrian titles to go to Mexico because he believed he had made a promise to them.

- Also, his wife was amazing and capable and the amount of pure misogyny that certain historians and biographers have thrown at her is ridiculous. I know this isn't a Carlota poll, but she'd want Max to win.

- Netflix did him unbelievably dirty. Please give him this.

Did you know my man Max repatriated many pieces of Mexica artefacts?

He told Austria to cough up 3 main things that he thought were rightfully Mexican.

1. The Chimalli

2. A codex

3. A letter from Cortez to the chocolate man people seem to call Charles

The Austrians took their time but eventually gave back something

The Chimalli next to max so people know who to thank for it

Rudolph:

- Possibly neurodivergent girlies rep also!!

- - THE ABSOLUTE BICON 💗💜💙

- Contributions to art and science!!! Alchemy, astronomy, painting etc flourished in his court we literally have some of the most beautiful baroque artefacts because of him

- Where do you think that pretty little crown in the polls icon came from

- Would rather do that than politics so real king

- Accused of doing occult? He's THAT astrology witchblr bitch

- VERY misunderstood and poor little meow meow uwu everyone thought he was incompetent and horny and cray cray like it was a bad thing

- We've voted on twinks? BEARS need love too!!! 💅

- Would've LOVED tumblr tbh he walked so all of us today could run 🩷🩷🩷

The fun portrait:

#best habsburg bracket #house of habsburg

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octuscle · 1 year

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Max

If only he'd bothered sooner, Maximilian thought as he stood in front of the graffiti-covered, slightly run-down apartment building facade in Leipzig's student district. It was bad enough that he had to go to this stupid fair. But a hotel would have been better than this shared room rented through airbnb. It had taken him a while to finally come around to the idea that it would make sense for his career not to always sit in the lab or at the computer. Getting in touch with clients occasionally was certainly supportive. But now the city was booked. At least by his budgetary standards, the hotel rooms that were still available were absurdly expensive. So three years after he had been awarded his doctorate summa cum laude, student communes once again. He could think of little worse.

Maximilian rang the doorbell. Indistinct rustling came from the intercom, but the door was pushed open, lights came on in the stairwell, and a "fourth floor, elevator is unfortunately broken" sounded from above. Things were getting better. He was panting by the time he had heaved his untrained body, the suitcase with a week's worth of clothes for the fair, and his laptop bag upstairs. Standing in the doorway was a young man he estimated to be maybe in his mid-20s. Leather pants, sandals, bare chest tattooed all over, full beard, and man-bun, or whatever they called that hairstyle. A hipster to the core. "Max?" he asked. "I'm Leo, welcome! Your room is right across the hall, here's the bathroom and there's the kitchen. Would you like to join us?". Maximilian declined with thanks. To sit down in the smoked kitchen, where cigarettes, shisha and obviously a few joints were consumed, was really the last thing he could imagine. The smell that hung in the apartment quickly got into his head. And it was Sunday night at 22:00, he just wanted to go to bed, tomorrow at 06:00 he had to be in the cab to help his colleagues open the booth.

Fuck, why did fairs always have to start so early. 05:00 was no time for him. His studies simply weren't behind him long enough for him to get used to the rhythm of professional life. Quietly, wearing only the boxers he had slept in, he went to the bathroom. Normally, he was only in Leipzig on weekends, and his five flatmates, with whom he had been sharing this flat for eight months now, were only used to movement in the hallway and bathroom at this time of day when someone came home on the weekend. He was just the buffer here, but they all liked each other. And with his salary, they could at least afford a cleaning lady and a fully automatic coffee machine.

Showered and shaved, he stood in front of his closet in his shared room. He hadn't even considered that he didn't have anything sensible for the trade fair. On weekends, he needed something for stoned evenings in the shared kitchen and for raved evenings. The only suit that hung here had been hanging here for eight months. And that was ten kilos ago, which he had lost thanks to regular jogging and yoga. Well, that had to be okay for today; the important customers never came on the first day of the trade show anyway. Nevertheless, he was looking forward to the day. Unlike his colleagues, who tended to hole themselves up in the labs, he had taken pleasure in sales. Accordingly, the nerds were happy to rarely come out of their corner for technical questions today; most of the work was done by Max and his somewhat younger colleague Kevin from Marketing. When the trade fair gates closed, the two of them moved from booth party to booth party, while the other colleagues probably sat happily in front of their computers in their hotel rooms. When he unlocked the door to the shared apartment at 10:00 p.m., the air was already as smoky as it was every evening. Max just quickly took off his suit, hung it neatly on the window for airing and sat down with his friends in adilettes, sweatpants and a T-shirt. It was nice to be home during the week. In Munich, where he had to live because of his job, he hadn't felt comfortable for a long time.

Fortunately, he didn't have to be at the fair so early today. But he didn't want to be too late either. After all, he had only been with the company for a good year and wanted to do a good job. But first a smoke and a coffee. And then off to the bathroom. Kevin and Max had a successful and entertaining day. The two of them rocked the booth simply because they both stood out fashionably. Between all the overweight older gentlemen in ill-fitting suits, they were both by far the best dressed. Max had been unsure at first whether the slim-fitting suit in the eye-catching Tratan fabric with the high-gloss Doc Martins didn't look a bit too Britpop, but Kevin assured him that his ass would come out great in it. And Max didn't get the impression that his competence was in doubt because of the outfit, either.

After his colleagues had left the booth on time again and no booth parties were scheduled for tonight, Max and Kevin registered for dinner at the WG. Loaded with two cases of red wine, the two arrived and were received accordingly euphoric. But it could also be due to the fact that at 6:00 p.m. the first joint was already circling. In any case, it was an exuberant evening and that Kevin would not spend the night in the hotel today was quickly clear after the blowjob in the bathroom.

When Max woke up in the morning around 06:00, he realized how lucky he was that Kevin was with him at the fair. Max was fresh out of university, the signatures on his doctorate certificate barely dry, and Kevin had been in the business a few years longer. That was a great comfort for the work at the booth. And for the past night it was not helpful, but just horny. Since he moved into the flat-sharing community two and a half years ago at the beginning of his doctoral studies, Max had kept himself fit mainly by playing soccer with the boys in the park, running track and doing yoga, and maybe the occasional jog and swim. Kevin had discovered his enjoyment of pumping iron a year and a half ago, and by now it was impossible to miss. Max didn't like mountains of muscle on himself, and he wouldn't have wanted Kevin's magnificent full beard and blatant undercut. But on the guy next to him in bed, it looked divine.

Max and Kevin showered together. Also because it was horny, primarily because the bathroom schedule was tight in the shared apartment. And because their schedule was tight too, Kevin couldn't go back to the hotel and get a fresh shirt. So, because of the uniform appearance, only a t-shirt under the suit had to do for Kevin and Max today. Whereby Max's t-shirt stretched over Kevin's chest alarmingly. As expected, today, Wednesday, was the day with the most trade visitors. And even though Max still lacked a lot of practical experience, he scored with brilliant theoretical knowledge. There was corresponding praise from Kevin as the two of them drank an after-work beer at the neighboring stand. Unfortunately, Kevin couldn't come with them to the WG today, as he still had an official customer appointment, at which, much to their annoyance, the older colleagues had to come along. Max enjoyed it all the more to sit at the kitchen table at 20:00 in sweat pants and T-shirt. Sure, the discussions sooner or later got to the point that Max had made himself a slave to the old economy and a climate destroyer to boot. But he could live with that. With a joint in any case.

Thursday morning. The fair was as good as over. After all, there was really good money in it. Max was grateful that he could combine his work as a student trainee so well with the hot phase of his doctorate. He had already used part of his salary in advance for the suit that he wore to the fair and that he also wanted to wear to the viva. Max thought he looked awesome in it. The slim-fitting navy blue suit was perhaps a bit conservative for him. But it accentuated his lean and wiry body just great! The day at the fair was exhausting. The visitors really only ever wanted to see his more experienced colleagues, so Max spent most of the time just standing around decoratively. He could hardly wait for the end of the trade show day. Kevin was invited to a trade show party and wanted to take him with him. And thank god the party turned out to be quite boring and so the two of them ended up in one of Max's favorite corner bars first. And then around 10:00 p.m. in Max's bed.

Kevin was certainly five years older than Max. A seasoned marketing manager and beast of a man. Max, who was just about to take his exams, didn't have to hide visually, but the hairy and full-bearded colossus didn't really fit in at all with the rather slender and still very youthful-looking student. Nevertheless, they had fucked like rabbits. Kevin had ordered a cab early and had gone to the hotel to freshen up and change for the fair. Max had left his waiter outfit in the catering area of the fair and just had to quickly jump in the shower and then into the S-Bahn before his shift started. Eyeing his reflection in the windowpane, he wondered if he should follow Kevin's example and get a beard and some tattoos, too. Friday was the last day of the fair, and things were getting high. Tomorrow, Saturday, maybe a few more foreign guests would come. But in itself the specialized public departed today starting from 15:00 o'clock so slowly. Max already had a few years of trade fair experience and had meanwhile risen to the position of shift leader. He knew some of the waiters and waitresses, some of them in passing, and some of them better from university. The jobs here were well paid and in demand. But he also had to walk some miles, easy money it was not. Still, Max enjoyed the day. He assumed this would be the last time he did this. Next year, he was either going to write his doctoral thesis. Or already work in the chemical industry. He had enough offers. Too bad, actually, he looked' really good with the white shirt, the narrow black tie that disappeared between the third and fourth button in the shirt and the long white apron over the tight black pants. He was a handsome man, and he knew it. And that occasionally brought him even with a stud like Kevin.

In the evening, he made three crosses when he could take off his shoes. His feet were just used to sneakers and Docs. Good thing tomorrow would be the last day he got to serve trade show guests dressed as a penguin. The others had the foresight to order pizza, beer and something to smoke, and by 9:00 p.m. Max was exhausted and in bed.

The last day of the fair. Finally. If only because he no longer had to argue with his stupid supervisor. Max had only one or two trade fairs less experience, but at just under 26 years of age, he was clearly the younger one. And his boss let him feel that. That's why he wasn't allowed to work in service today, but had to work as a barista in the coffee bar. One advantage was that he could keep his clothes on without any problems. Sneakers, jeans, T-shirt and beanie. Only the black apron he had to wear. And another advantage was that rat-hot Kevin would drop by from time to time. Today rather more often. On the last day, there was simply little going on. At 4:00 p.m., the first booth builders arrived and began to dismantle the booths. And Kevin asked Max if he would like to go out for a bite to eat with him before Kevin headed back to Munich. Kevin had chosen a steak restaurant that Max would never go to. Much too expensive. And he lived mostly vegan. But being invited by the hottest guy at the whole fair was more than okay. The only pity was that Kevin didn't have time to come up for a fuck today. But at least Max could still suck his boner as a farewell. A worthy end to a strenuous week at the fair.

Sunday, 10:00 o'clock! Finally slept in again. Actually, Max should have been working on his bachelor thesis. But among the other sociologists he was considered a mega nerd anyway. A bachelor with not even 25 was rather unusual at his faculty… And today the weather was great. Having breakfast somewhere in the sun now just sounded more appealing. And finally he could just slip into his pants and tank top without showering and hide his unwashed hair under his hat. A quick glance in the mirror. Perfect. And tomorrow he would make an appointment with the tattoo artist he trusted. He would definitely invest some of his hard-earned money from the past week in ink. Let's see what kind of inspiration he could get on the street.

#inked man #tank top #male tf #age reduction #reality change

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aetherbound · 1 year

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Daniel Brühl as Maximilian in A Most Wanted Man (dir. Anton Corbijn 2014)

#daniel brühl #daniel bruhl #danielbruhledit #dbrühledit #dbruhledit #a most wanted man #my gifs #sorry for the potato quality this is my first attempt at gifs #i wanted to try and make pretty gifs of the pretty man too :')#since he only had eight minutes of screentime i thought this was a good test run #also what dem hips do???

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serious-tabaxi · 1 year

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(Howdy, Best To Answer This Tomorrow If You Feel Tired :))

(Just An RP Prompt, Involving Only Max This Time [Most Likely], And FYI, Since I Should Say Some Stuff About The Larutar And Max Himself, Larutar Are Closely Related To Merfolk In Max's Universe, Having Their Own "Tails" But Evolved And Found A Way To Switch Between Having Legs And A Fish Tail, Making Them Able To Go On Land And Water Alike, And I Should've Also Said This Since It Was Important But I Didn't Know How, But Max Has A Deformity That He Was Born With That Made Him Have Slightly Deformed Bones In His Legs {Permanently} And Weak Muscles, Making Him Need To Use A Cane When On Land <Sometimes Crutches, Also I Have Been Doing Proper Research On Disabilities Because I Am Not Making A Character With A Disability Without Making Sure That I Don't Do Anything Harmful>, I'll Just Say That The Previous Reason To Why He Wasn't Seen Using His Cane At All Was Because He Found Some Potions That Could Ease The Effects Of His Disability Enough That He Didn't Need To Use His Cane Because Of It For Awhile, But Now He Had Run Out (And Probably Doesn't Wanna Use Them Anymore Due To Possible Side Effects Of The Potions Being Pretty Bad))

(SORRY IF THIS WAS REALLY LONG AND BOTHERSOME TO READ, I NEEDED TO GET IT OFF OF MY CHEST)

(Remember, You Don't Have To Answer This If You Don't Want To, No Pressure, Take As Long As You Feel Like You Need Or Want)

(Also, I Hope You Have A Great Day/Night, And Are Somewhere That Is Both Comfy And Cozy)

*It had been many months, the Kraken had been reported alive, but it's flock far smaller than before. The Ex-boss of Maximilian had reportedly went into hiding. Everything was peaceful from the Kraken's former rage. It was currently night time, the stars glimmered within the dark sky of the night. There was a slight chill within the air, but it only required a simple coat to block it out. There had been reports of Merfolk, or something similar, out in the water of the sea.*

(no,no, don't worry, I enjoy hearing more about other characters.)

*a raven man would be flying quietly in the dark sky, circling and looking for something in the waters below.*

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lost-decade · 7 months

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I can't protect you like this

Max/James Royal Prince/bodyguard AU

"He's not going to stop is he?"

Max drops his head into his hands, taking a shaky breath. He isn't going to start crying, not in front of James. Not when he's spent most of the year trying to convince him he can take care of himself, that just because he's heir to the throne it doesn't mean he needs to be wrapped up in cotton wool.

It's been a difficult time, despite Max's easygoing nature. He's always prided himself on the way he conducts his life, his friendships; trying to dispel the stereotypes of royalty. Most people expect him to be an arrogant prick and he does his best to prove them wrong. Spending months having his every move observed even more closely than usual has worn him down though; his royal status has never felt more oppressive, tiring.

It doesn’t help that he can’t stop thinking about the man who’s been chosen to ensure his safety.

James' hand has been resting on his gun ever since they walked through the door. Most of the lights are off. Adrenaline still runs high through Max's veins despite how protected James makes him feel. It had been rushed, his leaving the Palace, a few items hurriedly thrown into a rucksack; Max settling with his arms around James’ waist on the back of the motorcycle. His father had wanted a full motorcade to accompany Max to safety but James had insisted that would only draw more attention, instead convincing him that the best thing would be to take Max back to his own apartment rather than some safehouse where James doesn’t know the setup and the exits.

"No. I don't think he will. But you don't need to worry about that. It's my job to make sure he doesn't get to you. You'll be safe here, at least for now."

Max looks around. It's strange, seeing James’ home, a whole existence away from him. James has been his shadow 24/7 since the letters started, at first at a distance, and then as it worsened he'd been set up in a room with a connecting door to Max's. The letters had only increased in intensity, from declarations of love to ones of intent, possession and hatred, stacks of Polaroids hand delivered and left on Max's bed in the palace. They'd been followed by his private Instagram account being hacked, endless streams of direct messages that had left him shaken and afraid.

Then had come the other photos, the ones he's kept a secret. They are sitting at the bottom of his hastily packed overnight bag: pictures from years ago when he was at boarding school; first kisses and touches, his face visible and unmistakable.

There's a picture in James' apartment too. Max can't take his eyes off it: a slightly younger James with his arms around another dark-haired man, the two of them gazing at each other, seemingly oblivious to the camera. It answers the question that's been running through Max's mind for months.

"I haven't been entirely honest with you," Max says. "These came last week." He nervously retrieves the photos from his bag, handing them to James, who flicks through them silently. "I managed to hide them before any of the staff could see." And before his father could.

"The other boy in the photos, who is he?" James asks, finally.

"It doesn't matter," Max says firmly. "He’s not the one doing this. Someone must have found out, taken photos of us. It was a long time ago."

"Or he thought he'd set up a camera to photograph himself fucking Prince Maximilian of Monaco in case he ever needed to make a quick buck."

"He wouldn't have," Max snaps, snatching the photos back. "Are you surprised?" He follows tentatively, anxious for approval.

"It's not my job to be surprised, your Highness."

Max’s heart sinks. "Don't. We're past that. You've spent the last few days sleeping in a chair beside my bed and now it's back to titles?"

"I'm here to protect you, Max. Not to judge you." James slides off his suit jacket, unclipping the catch on his leather shoulder holster and removing the Glock 17, placing it on the glass coffee table. Max reaches for the gun, picking it up and gripping it in his hand, trying to imagine how James feels when he pulls the trigger, what goes through his mind.

"Max, don't."

"The safety's on," Max shrugs. "I've fired a gun before you know."

Beside him on the sofa, James sighs, running his fingers back through his hair. He looks exhausted, different somehow in his own environment, his own space.

"Clay pigeon shooting at some country estate isn't the same as firing to kill someone."

Max ignores him, sliding his palm down the barrel, feeling the cool, solid weight of it before setting it back down.

"When did you last sleep for more than a couple of hours at a time?" Max asks him. James has rolled up his shirtsleeves to the elbow and Max reaches out to tentatively touch him. His skin is warm to the touch as Max traces a fingertip from elbow to wrist. He isn’t a reckless person; there’s very little opportunity in his life to be uncontrolled. He knows how to pose for photographs, converse with everyday people as easily as with dignitaries and still make them feel special. He attends dinners and puts his name to foundations and never does anything remotely controversial. Occasionally he risks a one night stand here or there but it’s always with someone else in a position of privilege, with as much to lose as him. Once, with the help of his personal valet, there had been another guy, a hefty sum deposited into a bank account, an NDA signed. It had left Max feeling cold, longing for something real.

"I'll sleep when the threat to your life has been neutralised. Max, stop it."

Max ignores him. His hand finds James' thigh.

"I've thought about this so many times, you know, wondering what your life is like away from me, who you really are."

"I'm your bodyguard, that's all you need to know. I know it's tough having to be so isolated while all this is going on but I'm your bodyguard, I'm not your friend. I'm not..."

James trails off helplessly, looking down at Max's hand, where his thumb is moving in soothing circles against the meat of his thigh.

"You're not what?" Max asks softly. He moves his hand higher, at the same time nuzzling his face against James' jaw.

"You don't know what you're doing," James admonishes, but he allows Max to continue, tilting his head to bare his neck to Max’s lips. “This isn’t going to happen,” he says, weakly.

"There's something between us.” Max, pushes. “I've felt like I'm going crazy all year, and not just because of everything that’s been happening. You can't deny there's something."

James doesn't push Max away, allowing the caresses for a few moments longer until something within him breaks.

It's so quick, the motion with which James flips him onto his back on the sofa, kissing him hungrily as their hands tear at each other's clothes. Max's skin feels alight at every place James touches. It's been so long since he's had this, the risks so high. He's already being pushed towards a marriage with a Scandinavian princess. To strengthen relations, his father had confirmed, as Max had felt part of himself die inside.

"We should stop," James says, helplessly. "You should tell me to stop."

"Please," Max begs, looking up at James with tears in his eyes. "Just for tonight can't we just be two people who want each other."

James looks at him searchingly, whatever he needs to see seemingly satisfying him enough to keep going, to take Max apart until nothing fills the room except the sounds of their bodies moving together in perfect synchronisation.

#max/james #fe fic #fe moodboard #this was supposed to be a short drabble but it got away from me #and i have no idea what to do with it tbh #too much worldbuilding needed

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max-millers · 4 months

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MAX.

— BASICS

&&. wait, is ( maximilian miller ) working another shift? i've heard through a grapevine, that the ( 27 ) year old ( paramedic & first year anesthesiology resident ) is just trying to keep himself busy. and let me kid you not, he looks just like ( rudy pankow ). some say that he is ( impulsive & aggressive ), but he is actually ( brave & reliable ). ( penned by logan, they/them )

— BIOGRAPHY

TW: Domestic Violence (mentioned), Alcohol abuse/addiction

Silence, as Max knew it, had always been loud.

As his quiet company, it had lent him sanity in the many nights he spent at home alone. Silence had always meant the absence of his loud, mostly drunk father, of guns rattling in bags and money counting machines working until the morning. In his thirties, his father had started working as an Arms Dealer for the Brotherhood, but there had been other dirty jobs before. And many more came - the dirtiest being one he had chosen for himself: To teach his only child the most brutal and cruel lessons a father could ever teach.

Max had been gifted his first knife at 12, his first gun at 16. The fighting, his father decided, he’d learn through special methods, through consequences; the softness and weakness, he’d punch right out of him. And it worked, in a way, Max didn’t become the silent predator the man had tried to make him into, but he became resilient, strong-minded and willing to fight. He learned how to bite back, even though he never dared to with his father.

But there was the other side - the panic attacks, the flashbacks, the nightmares. The shaking, the aggressions, the alcohol, then the drugs. At 18, right after graduation and right after he moved out, he got rid of the drugs, applied for Paramedic-Training and got in.

His mother, she had never been around. “Dropped you off like garbage.”, his dad used to joke, but his eyes got weary sometimes as he said that. The truth, he found out at fourteen, was that she had left him for another man, who hadn’t wanted her child. So, when Max was born, his father offered to take him in. His father had always wanted him as a son.

While Max found his true passion in the medical field, his father also quickly found his way to make a use of it, recruiting him to help out the Brotherhood in cases of minor injuries and need for medical informations. Urging him to study medicine, Max refused, even though it had been his true wish. His experience with gangs had been nothing but traumatizing, his childhood full of deep rooted issues.

— WANTED CONNECTIONS / PLOTS (tbd.)

THE CHILDHOOD FRIEND: You two grew up together. Could be ride or die, could be out of touch and reunited, down for everything.

#PAGER GOES OFF; intro

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fumblingmusings · 6 months

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We all know spain and austria were married for the longest time, could you talk about it

Just short of 200 years! And yet I don't know if I can say they actually spent much time together. King Charles V split it off because it was just too much for one man to get to grips on, so if they were one household it was for... I don't know how to define it actually. Either 1506 if you go with a Habsburg becoming King of Spain or 1519 where politically the HRE, Austria, BeNeLux and Spain all united. Personal or political union, usual story... Point is, it politically split in 1522 (when Charles ceased to be Archduke of Austria and gave it to his brother), or 1556 (where he gave up Holy Roman Emperor and gave it to his brother), or... I don't know. It's complicated. So, if you're going by that metric definition of marriage, they at worst didn't even manage five years. If you're going by the name and name alone, then yeah, you've got 200 years together.

I think we know in canon Antonio's household was BeNeLux, Romano and I assume where relevant Portugal. Austria had HRE, Czechia/Bohemia and Slovakia, Hungary and Veneziano, amongst others. I think it's important to remember that the "Let others wage war, but thou, O happy Austria, marry; for those kingdoms which Mars gives to others, Venus gives to thee" quote refers not just to the intermarriages with Spain, but also Bohemia, Hungary plus the pressures on Poland and France. Also Austria did absolute buckets of fighting at this time.

Austria is literally designed to be a wall. That mid point in Europe no-one east can cross. I think therefore his attentions were always elsewhere. In the same vein, Antonio was equally focused elsewhere. Roderich can complain 'I won't tolerate bigamy' but bruh. Bruh. I guess it depends where Erzsi is that day. Mayhaps bigamy is a nono but open marriage is fine. Who knows. The idea of them only actually being one household for like four years but being tangled in this awful mess of a family for 200 is very funny to me. You really can't find more diametrically opposed characters.

Completely off topic ramble under the cut

If people ever want some not English period dramas to watch then going from Maximilian for why the Habsburgs ended up in BeNeLux (including the most upsetting depiction of what happened to Mary of Burgundy in that yes she fell from her horse and had her spine crushed and took days for her to die and what am I supposed to feel with her final lines being 'life is not our own we simply borrow it' and telling her husband 'live a little longer then you will follow me' like siocbfdgfszxvcbngfsxcv okay) and then from there watch the Spanish Isabel, The Broken Crown, and then Carlos, rey emperador for the merger and splintering of the Spanish and Austrian territories. You can keep going actually... including the fantasy time travel El ministerio del tiempo which honestly 10 out 10 insanity if you want to hop across Spanish history yes including exactly what you would expect from the World War Two episodes and an episode where Phillip II decides to become King of the World following the defeat of the Armada honestly it's great it's dumb it's doctor who minus aliens. Spain has done so many period dramas it's honestly great. Margaret of Austria wishes she was this pretty (sorry that's mean it's not like she had any choice in the matter in what was happening to the genes of her family).

#hetalia #q&a

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archduchessofnowhere · 2 years

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I am sorry, did The Empress really make Franz Joseph, the man whose main characteristic as a politician and a person was that he had to be dragged into every kind of progress kicking and screaming, have liberal sympathies?! Now I have to watch it, since it's obviously a comedy of the year! Seriously, there are so many ways to make Franz Joseph as a person sympathetic, but as a thinker and politician he's pretty much unsalvageable. There's a reason why most Sisi media, as far as I can tell, don't touch on this aspect of the man, save for the Hungarian question (which in turns leads to the romanticization of the Compromise, but oh well). It helps that Sisi in general wasn't a very politically involved person.

YES THEY DID IT'S LAUGHABLE, there is a whole side plot of him wanting to modernize the empire building a railway but Sophie tells him that it's a waste of money and that he should go to war against Russia instead (I'm not even sure which conflict is this meant to be, the Crimean War?) Oh and also all the executions post 1848? His mother forced him to do it, he wanted to grant forgiveness to the accused!

This is also probably the reason why they butchered archduke Maximilian's personality. The source of the tension between the brothers were their political disagreements, which is no longer possible in this AU in which FJ is pro-liberal; so their solution was "easy! Max is no longer a liberal, he's now an irresponsible playboy that schemes for the throne because... Envy I guess?"

Sisi media usually only talks about his policies in the context of Elisabeth making him change his mind or helping him improve his reputation. The first example that comes to my mind is strangely from the Sissi Trilogy, were it is explicitly stated that Franz Josef is hated in many parts of the empire because of the repression and executions - only so the movies can later show how Sissi can win Hungary and Italy despite this with her kindness alone.

#the empress (2022)#die kaiserin (2022)#sissi trilogy #asks

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galactic-empire-incorrect-quotes · 2 years

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Hi!

I was wondering what piett, veers, jerjerrod, ozzel, motti, needa, ect., reactions to Luke being Vader's son would be.

And the knowledge that DARTH VADER has a KID.

Who is a REBEL.

And the rebel who BLEW UP THE DEATH STAR

(Veers fears his own son is buddy-buddy with Luke - then promptly has a heart-attack when he finds out that Zev and Luke were actually a thing for a bit.

Vader, of course, it Not Happy.)

Piett: This is par for the course at this point for Piett. Just when life starts getting easier, here comes another punch to the gut! This of course makes him wonder about the logistics of the scenario, and exactly how Darth Vader has a kid. He knows how homicidal Vader can be and has caught glimpses of Vader minus his helmet, and he’s not an expert in the subject but he’s 95% sure that Lord Vader does not meet most women’s (or men’s, for that matter) husband standards.

Veers: When his son defected to the Rebel Alliance, Veers naturally assumed that would be the most horrifying piece of news he would ever receive. (Or close to the most horrifying. The poor man doesn’t want to imagine what it would be like if his son died in the line of duty for the Rebels.) He was wrong. The day he learned that Zevulon had in fact DATED THE REBEL WHO BLEW UP THE DEATH STAR, was the day that went down in history as the one and only time General Maximilian Veers fainted.

Jerjerrod: Jerjerrod is still so furious over the destruction of the magnificent feat of engineering that was the Death Star, that he hasn’t fully registered that it was Vader’s son who destroyed it. Presumably Lord Vader will drag the insolent boy onto one star destroyer jail cell or another, and then Jerjerrod can yell at him until he cries.

Ozzel: Say what now? The Rebel leader Skywalker is Lord Vader’s son? Ozzel didn’t know about it, the memo that leaked it was in the stack of paperwork that he foists off onto Piett.

Motti: Motti is with Jerjerrod. He’d also like to know who Luke Skywalker’s mother is, exactly what made her think that Darth Vader was a great catch, and if Lord Vader ever changed his son’s diapers. He plans on asking Vader all of these questions in a very public setting.

Needa: Needa, Piett, and Veers are drunk at some pretentious high-end Coruscant bar crying about why their lives can’t just be normal and simple. Needa is mentally running through the list of Rebels he’s caught or tried to catch, who they’re related to, and what each encounter might mean for his life expectancy.

#star wars #incorrect star wars quotes #galactic empire #incorrect quotes #admiral piett #firmus piett #maximilian veers #general veers #darth vader #darth vader is a dad #luke skywalker #anakin skywalker #lorth needa #captain needa #conan antonio motti #admiral motti #admiral ozzel #i am your father #zevulon veers

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theimpurelily · 9 months

Text

Made to Be Broken

Word Count: 4,033

< Previous | Next > | Table of Contents

Maxi was the first to spot him, even from far away he could tell she was nervous as her hands tugged at her hair. He couldn’t hear what she had said but it caused Gabel to turn around and smile brightly as he waved Riftan over.

Despite his slow movements, Riftan felt as if his heart would explode at the pace it was racing. A thousand questions started to run though his mind; most could be summed up to why? Why now? Why him? Why after everything seemed to be finally working in his favor.

Why?

“Ah! Sir Riftan, took you long enough. I was telling lady Maximilian how you earned your nickname Single-Strike Calypse while we waited...for...” Gabel trailed off as Riftan shot him a glare, daring the man to continue before turning his attention towards Maxi.

He was surprised to see she was wearing a shy smile as he approached, however, it started to fade when she looked at Riftan’s dark expression.

Gabel cleared his throat, causing Riftan to turn his attention towards him.

Before he could say anything, Riftan took a step toward him.

“What are you doing here?”

Much to his credit, Gabel kept up the smile as he straightened his shoulders and stood his ground.

“I came to find you. The commander wanted to speak with you but you had already left your room.”

“I was in my room all morning.”

Gabel’s mask fell for a moment before he turned towards Maxi.

“My lady, would you please excuse us for a moment?”

Turning his attention from Gabel, Riftan watched as whatever smile was left completely crumbled, turning into panic as she looked between them.

“Y-y-yes...of...c-course.”

“I’ll be but a moment, I promise.” Gabel tried to reassure her before nodding for Riftan to follow.

The look in her eyes made Riftan hesitate to move. He wanted nothing more than to reach out and hold her, to take her away from this situation, but he kept his hands firmly to his side.

He took a small step towards her and spoke in a low tone so Gabel couldn’t hear.

“Everything will be alright, stay here.”

Her eyes once again shifted between the two knights. Maxi moved to take a step towards him but stopped before giving him a small tentative nod.

The urge to hold her was still raging inside him but he continued to hold back as he painfully moved away to follow Gabel.

As soon as they were out of sight from Maxi, Gabel turned toward Riftan to speak. However, he was quickly cut off as Riftan grabbed him by his collar and slammed him against the nearest tree. It was with enough force that the leaves above them shook and Gabel didn’t hesitate to start trying to get out of his grasp but he quickly stopped when Riftan’s hold tightened as he towered over him.

“Before you hit me, let me explain.”

“Make it quick.”

“Most are ignorant but those who know you, who fought beside you for years, have noticed how you’ve been acting.

“Oh? Enlighten me, how have I been acting?” Riftan asked with a condescending sneer.

Gabel shifted a little against the tree as he cleared his throat.

“Strange.”

“Strange how?”

“Just...strange. You’ve always been rather consistent, even when you’ve acted out of routine there was always an obvious reason behind it but lately...”

“Keep talking.”

Gabel sighed. "Lately, you have been disappearing for hours without any notice and always at the same time. You have attended nearly every banquet without complaining and when you are there Hebaron swears you act like...well to put it bluntly, you've been blushing and it's starting to scare him.”

Riftan’s hold on Gabel faltered only slightly as his teeth started to hurt with how hard he’s clutching his jaw. He was so wrapped up in seeing her he didn't even think about how his disappearance would look. As for Hebaron’s accusation, Riftan wanted to believe he was lying but he couldn't deny there were times where he felt his mask slip around Maxi.

Looking uneasy with the silence, Gabel brought up his hands in an act of defense.

“As I said, most in our order are completely oblivious to this and those who have noticed don’t know who it is. I believe I was the first to find out it was her ladyship.

“How.” His voice shook slightly, not sounding as harsh as he would have liked.

Gabel let out a short laugh. “You must be joking?” Whatever smile Gabel had from his laughter was quickly gone when Riftan made sure his hold on the knight was firm once more as he shot him a frigid look.

"Answer. My. Question.”

With a bit of irritation in his voice, Gabel began. “When we first got here, I noticed you staring at a woman when normally you would completely ignore their existence. I brushed that off at first but then I noticed you being introduced to what I assumed was the same woman and she was the first noble you didn’t look like you wanted to kill. I was still skeptical until you sparred with Hebaron...could you please loosen your grip? I’m rather fond of-.”

“Keep making jokes and see where that gets you.”

Despite the possible discomfort, Gabel shrugged, the sound of fabric scraping against the bark making him wince. “Right, forgot you have no humo-ah alright! You kept trying to position yourself so you could look at the ladies, it was so odd that I wasn't the only one that notice it. It wasn’t until after your match that I saw lady Maximilian was watching...so I brought up rumors I had heard to see how you would react and something felt off...and well...I don’t think I’ve ever seen you make that face before. It was honestly a little disturbing.”

His shoulders dropped and with every word he spoke as Riftan’s anger shifted from Gabel to himself. He was right to scoff at Riftan, as much as he didn’t want to believe it, he had been painfully obvious.

“What do you want?”

“First, I’d like for you to let go.”

Nodding, he did so and as soon as he released his hold the man started to try and smooth out the stretched-out fabric.

“Second, I need you to come with me. I wasn’t lying when I said Triton was looking for you.”

Riftan nearly asked him if their commander knew but stopped as he let out a groan and brushed his hair out of his face.

Of course he knows.

“Fine, but how did you know I’d be here?”

Crossing his arms, Gabel leaned back against the tree, his posture having relaxed since being freed. “I may have occasionally been following you.”

"No, I would have noticed.” Riftan said while shaking his head in disbelief.

“Give me some credit.” he replied while rolling his eyes. “It wouldn't be the first time I’ve been able to sneak around you.”

As much as Riftan wanted to argue against that he knew he couldn't. The first time he met Gabel the man had snuck up on him.

“How long?”

He shrugged. “Not long, the first time was just before the rain stopped. Triton was starting to worry and asked me to follow you. I thought it was strange how you just stood out here alone…until last night.”

A wave of nausea hit Riftan and the migraine he had warded off from his hangover came back in full force. He had been wrong; he didn’t hear someone coming into the hall but leaving.

Letting out a frustrated sigh, he rubbed his hand over his eyes, not being able to tell if his face was getting warm from embarrassment or anger. Gabel had heard everything and Riftan didn’t even notice...he was going to kill Hebaron.

As he tried to alleviate the pain behind his eyes, Riftan heard a dramatic sigh.

“I'm not a cruel man. The reason why I didn’t come get you this morning was so you could see her ladyship before you talked to the commander.”

As thoughtful as that sounded, Riftan didn’t like the implications behind his words.

“The commander, is he...”

“Angry?”

Riftan only nodded as he swallowed down a lump in his throat.

“Honestly, I don’t know.” Riftan looked over to judge Gabel’s expression, hoping to see some sort of hint to him lying but he couldn't find any. If anything, he saw pity.

Gabel gestured towards the path leading to where Maxi was.

“I’ll wait here. Don’t take too long.”

Riftan nodded in reply as a thanks before heading back towards the garden, his feet feeling heavier with each step.

As Maxi came into view his heart twisted in his chest. She was pacing back and forth as she bit her thumb nail, stopping only when she heard him approaching.

He watched as she started to walk towards him only to stop and instead wait while she nearly bit her nail again before moving her hands to pull at her already abused hair. Her braid was almost completely undone and he could see the skin around her nail looked raw.

“I-I...I th-thought you had t-told him, I...d-didn’t say a-anything.” she blurted out before he even had a chance to speak. The tears in her eyes and the panic in her voice felt like a punch to the gut.

“I know.” he mumbled while reaching out to take a strand of her hair, causing her hands to leave the curls alone as he watched a red coil wrapped around his finger.

“He didn’t do or say anything inappropriate to you?”

She looked confused by the question but shook her head no.

At least he had that.

“H-has...will h-he t-t-tell anyone?”

Riftan let the curl slip from his finger before reaching out to wrap her up in his arms, kissing the top of her forehead as he let out an exhausted sigh.

“He told my commander.” Though Gabel didn’t say it, Riftan was sure that's how Triton knew.

Even though Maxi accepted the hug her body was still tense from his words. Riftan’s body felt heavy with guilt, this was his fault. They could have been sitting in the shade as they enjoyed each other's company instead of dreading what was to come. All because he couldn't hold himself back for one day.

“I need to leave to talk to him.”

Pulling back, he rested his forehead against hers as he closed his eyes.

“If I don’t go to the banquet tonight, could you meet me here?”

He felt her nod as she let out a shaky breath.

“Good.” He moved to kiss her forehead again, keeping his lips there for a few seconds before gently kissing her temple, then her tear covered cheek until he brushed his lips against hers.

As she sighed into the bitter sweet kiss, Riftan brought his hand to rest at the back of her neck, his finger playing with the chain of the necklace he had gifted to her.

The walk back was painfully quiet, he felt as if he was being led to the hanged man. He truly didn’t know what his commander would do. Though Triton complained, he never severely punished any of the knights that seduced anything with a pulse, but none of the others had been caught with the daughter of someone like the duke.

As they reached the room Triton was staying in. Riftan felt Gabel pat his shoulder as if to say good luck.

Riftan tried to ignore his rising anxiety as he entered the room. He was surprised to see it was roughly the same size as his own, the only difference being the quality of furniture and the additional desk near the window which was currently being occupied.

His commander kept his back turned to his vice as the sound of quill on paper filled the cold silence between them. With each passing second Riftan felt his muscles starting to ache due to his tense posture.

After what felt like an eternity of silence Triton finally stopped writing and spoke up.

“Care to tell me why you decided to have a tryst in the hall with the duke's daughter?”

He could feel the blood drain from his face, his throat felt like it was closing in on itself, making it feel impossible to speak.

The chair Triton was sitting in creaked as his commander turned to look at him. Riftan tried to judge the expression on his face, he was surprised to see pity instead of anger.

“Don’t look at me like that, Calypse. You’re not in any trouble with me.” he said after a long sigh.

Riftan couldn't believe his commanders words.

“Who am I in trouble with?”

“No one, unless you pull an idiotic stunt like last night again. You're lucky it was one of us that caught you.”

Riftan’s body started to relax as he nodded.

“What now?”

Triton looked Riftan over for a moment before turning his chair to face him.

“Now…now you sit down and answer some questions.”

Sighing, he looked around for another chair to sit in only to find that the only one in the room is being used by Triton. Finding nowhere else to sit, he moved toward the bed. He was starting to feel like a child about to be scolded.

“When did this start.”

“We’ve been meeting up to talk almost as soon as we arrived.” he admitted, seeing no point in lying.

Triton gave Riftan an bemused look as he leaned back in his chair. “Just talking?”

He tried to ignore the rising warmth in his chest as he cleared his throat.

“It recently...changed.”

Triton hummed as he crossed his arms, his movement slightly stiff making Riftan’s eyes narrow. His commander’s injury was still acting up.

“Have you slept with-?”

“No.” he answered, cutting him off before he could think.

Luckily, Triton didn’t seem to mind as he smiled for the first time since Riftan entered the room.

“Good. Keep it that way. Now, do try to be a bit more subtle and enjoy the time you have left before we leave.” He started to move his chair back to where it was before, pausing for a moment when he noticed the shocked expression on Riftan’s face.

“Oh, don’t be so surprised. If anyone in our order deserves some bit of fun, it’s you. Truth be told I was more surprised than anything when Gabel told me. To think there was a woman you would willingly seek out.” he started to chuckle as he shook his head. “There must be something special there.”

Riftan was starting to feel dizzy as he nodded.

“I can still see her?” he mumbled, still not fully believing what his commander was saying.

“With how stubborn you are I doubt I could stop you. I can only ask for you to be more discreet in the future.”

Riftan took in a deep breath as he leaned forward, resting his arms on his legs, all the tension in his body having fully left him at this point. He felt beyond exhausted, like he had been preparing himself to face a hoard of monsters head on only to be met with an army of allies instead.

After a few moments he released the breath he had been holding and slowly started to stand up only to stop as Triton spoke up again.

“I do want to know one more thing.”

“What?”

“Why the duke's daughter?”

Riftan hesitated for a moment. There wasn’t a man alive who could get him to tell them the truth, that Maxi was the only reason why he was still alive, that without that one precious memory of her he would have been dead in that cave.

“I grew up here.” His slight admission made Triton laugh.

“Ah, so you knew her when you were children.” Triton said with a genuine smile.

Riftan nodded slowly stood back up, hoping his commander would dismiss him soon.

Triton seemed to sense this and waved Riftan away while turning back to his paperwork.

As Riftan's hand touched the door he heard Triton chuckle again.

“I have to say, Calypse, I’m surprised. I didn’t picture you as a romantic.”

Riftan kept quiet as he began to leave.

Neither did I.

Riftan wanted nothing more than to go to his room and be left alone until he could see Maxi again, but Gabel didn’t seem to think so.

As soon as Riftan entered his room he spotted the younger knight waiting there with his arms crossed and a bright smile on his face.

“Do you have nothing better to do then follow me around?”

“Currently? No, not really. So, good news I take it?”

Narrowing his eyes, Riftan had a feeling Gabel already knew the answer. After a few moments of tense silence, he nodded.

“Excellent!”

Wanting to leave it at that, Riftan started to gesture for him to leave but stopped as he remembered something that had been bothering him.

“Why did you confront her?”

Gabel faked being offended. “Confront is such a strong word. I simply wanted to introduce myself properly. I was curious on what type of woman could thaw that cold heart of yours.”

“Cut the bullshit.”

Gabel kept up the act for a few seconds before dropping it and shrugging. “Aright, I also wanted to show you how careless you’ve been. You truly are in desperate need of my help.”

“Like hell I am.”

“Oh? Tell me, why do you think her maids are leaving her alone right now?”

Letting out a frustrated groan, Riftan ran his hand over his face. “What did you do?”

“Not I, Hebaron convinced a few of the knights to try and woo her ladyship’s maids.”

Riftan continued to groan in frustration. “How many did you fucking tell?”

“Ah, right, Hebaron knows. Wait!” Gabel held up his hands in defense as Riftan began to approach him. “Hear me out, the other knights believe it was a type of hazing so there’s no need to worry about them.”

“Ah, great, so I only need to worry about Hebaron.” He said with a bit of venom in his voice.

Gabel kept his hands up but relaxed his stance a little. “He already had a feeling about it and I’m only one man. Oh, stop glaring at me, it’s making my skin crawl. Trust me, he finds this far too entertaining to jeopardize it.”

“How kind of you.” he replied, his tone still threatening.

“How kind indeed! You should be thanking us. This is what I mean by letting us help you. Hebaron and I can work on keeping the rumors down and give you an alibi if need be...and woo a few cute maids to keep her ladyship free.” he added the last bit with a chuckle.

Though he was starting to see what Gabel meant it still didn’t sit right with him. “So, you want me to use members of the Remdragon knights to see her. We're an order of knight not-”

"Don’t be so stubborn. I already warned you that the others are starting to talk and if Hebaron was able to catch on it’s only a matter of time before the others do as well.” Gabel took a step forward and placed a hand on Riftan’s shoulder.

“So, let us help you from being caught...again. I doubt you’d want to spend the time we have left having to dodge any politics if you were to be caught...again.” Gabel argued.

Riftan felt that bit of paranoia creep up again as he shrugged his hand off.

“Why are you helping me?”

“It hurts that you’re so distrustful.”

“Just answer the fucking question.”

Gabel crossed his arms and shrugged. “You’re my brother in arms, there have been countless times you have saved my life and both Hebaron and I feel like this is the least we could do for our future commander.”

Clearing his throat, Riftan tried to fight off the odd way Gabel’s words affected him. It was true, during the years there had been a few times Riftan had saved the younger knight’s life but that’s what he was supposed to do. Gabel shouldn't feel the need to owe Riftan for doing the bare minimum for someone he fought beside.

Whatever feeling of comradery that Riftan was feeling was quickly swept away by Gabel’s next statement.

“That and for the poor girl's sake you should learn how to properly please a woman.”

“Leave, now.” Gabel kept his smile up despite Riftan’s tone.

With light steps, he started to move towards the door, but paused before opening it.

“Though I don’t know how much I could teach you. It's like someone spilled sugar on your skin?” He ended his statement with a whistle that was cut short by Riftan quickly opening the door and shoving the younger knight out, making him trip and nearly fall in the process.

“I said leave before I break your fucking jaw!”

Gabel laughed and started to talk but Riftan cut him off by slamming the door shut hard enough he was surprised it didn’t break.

Riftan stared at the closed door for a moment, feeling an odd mixture of relief and mortification, before hitting his head against the wood.

Triton had tried to convince him to join the banquet but stopped when Riftan hinted that him being 'discreet' was the reason for him skipping.

His commander only chuckled as he told Riftan to behave himself as before closing the door. Riftan was still conflicted by everything that had happened. The more he looked back at his conversation with Triton and Gabel the more he was questioning if this was real. By all rights, his commander should have barred him from seeing Maxi again, he should have told her father and stripped Riftan of all rank and titles, yet it felt as if he was encouraging him. That mixed with Gabel and Hebaron offering to help him...it just didn't feel real. He had never been this lucky before.

As he watched the sun set over the garden, he took in a deep breath and tried to convince himself everything would be alright. He didn’t doubt that he’d have to repay them in some way for helping him but until then he’d follow Triton’s advice and enjoy the time he had left.

Hearing some movement, Riftan turned his attention toward the garden and smiled softly as Maxi slowly approached him at first before she started to pick up the pace. As she came closer Riftan held his arms open for her as she practically jumped into his embrace.

“It’ll be alright, they won't tell.”

“I k-know.” she said, her voice slightly muffled as she spoke into the fabric of his tunic.

He was shocked to hear her say that, how could she know? Did Gabel approach her again?

Letting out an irritated sigh, Riftan pulled back to better see her.

She still looked a little nervous, but the panic in her eyes from before was no longer there.

Seeming to sense his question she looked down at her hands as they played with his necklace.

“M-my f-father...I...” she hesitated for a moment. “Th-they w-would...have t-told...him by now b-but he didn’t....s-say a-anything. Th-then your c-c-commander smiled at m-me. It felt...r-reassuring.”

Riftan hated that he felt a bit of jealousy at that but he pushed it down as he brought one of her hands up to kiss it.

“W-were y-you...punished?”

He shook his head while continuing to kiss her hand before moving to her wrist where he could feel her pulse start to speed up.

“C-can... can I s-still s-see you?” her question came out a little breathy as his other hand started to trace the exposed skin above the back of her bodice.

Riftan hummed against her skin to say yes before pulling her closer to capture her lips in a gentle embrace.

As he deepened the kiss, he felt her hand on the back of his neck to pull him in closer while the other rested over his heart. At that moment Riftan knew his commander was right.

No one could keep her from him.

#under the oak tree #utot #maxi x riftan #riftan calypse #riftan pov #fanfic #utot fanfic #under the oak tree fanfiction #forget me not #meet me in the garden #secret romance

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