Chapter Four:
A Rose Amongst Daisies
Outskirts of London, England
Blair tapped her fingers against the carriage walls in union with the drumbeat outside. She knew they were nearing the palace by how the horses began to neigh for water and the calls of people who gathered around. Her eyes averted up to her ladies with her. She was only allowed one from France and the rest were replaced with English maids. So far she didn't trust them, but hopefully that could be changed in the future. She would need allies and in the times they lived, a woman had to look to another woman for a man would only let her down.
"Tire mes rideaux. Je veux voir hors de ces murs suffocants," Blair commanded, speaking her native tongue on purpose. It was the only way she could be cross at times, something she so enjoyed now that her beloved France was far behind her.
(English Translation: "Pull back my curtains. I wish to see outside these suffocating walls")
"Oui, ma Lady," the French maid complied. She then leaned across Blair and did her task. The two English ladies across from her did not seem happy at the bright light now filling the small space.
Blair waited until the girl had sat back down and then did not just glance out the window, but position herself to lean out of it.
"Lady Blair," the elder English maid gasped, putting a hand to her chest.
"Oh hush, I shall be plenty careful," Blair giggled, not caring if she seemed childish. It was probably best she seemed innocent to most, a rose without a thorn. After all, it was important to have the affection of the people—even if they were English.
She saw peasant children running along the Royal Caravan, holding their hands out as knights threw them gold coins. One boy halted, locking eyes with her, and then grinned running towards her with his small hands held out.
A Knight from behind saw and instantly came forth. "Get back, boy," he warned harshly when the child got so close.
Blair looked to the man and shook her head. "No, it is quite alright," she told him. Then she smiled softly at the child.
"Here, give this to your mother and father," Blair instructed. She dropped not one piece of gold, but the small pouch someone had given to her when they first arrived to England.
"Bless you, my Lady," the boy remarked breathlessly, holding the bag close to his heart.
She laughed and waved goodbye to him as their march carried on. When she returned her gaze forward though, she froze. Her eyes locked with dark brown. She quickly bowed her head. "Your Highness," Blair mouthed.
Chuck smirked, winking at her. Then to stay casual in the presence of others he turned forward once more and waved at some common people they passed. They all dropped to their knees in bows.
"Perhaps the Lady Blair shall make a fine wife for you after all, Thomas," Catherine noted, having seen Blair's kindness to the child. She rode on horse as well, beside Bart, and in front of her son, Chuck, and Nathaniel.
"Yes, she does carry a certain grace and elegance. King Francois paid a great favor to England," Bart agreed, entering the conversation. He kept his eyes forward though, making sure to acknowledge as many commoners he could. It was important that they loved and respected their King.
"I cannot wait to marry her, Your Majesty," Thomas said thoughtfully. He grinned to himself at the thought. Blair was so very beautiful and although she had been cold to him at first, she was now warming. She was a woman and women needed time.
Chuck rolled his eyes, scoffing at his future step-brother. When he looked up, he saw all partakers in the conversation staring at him. He smirked, "I think I shall check on our rose without a thorn."
"Charles—" Bart seethed, but his son had already turned his horse and rode back to where Blair's carriage was.
"Lady Blair, how do you find England?" Chuck asked as he conducted his horse very close to the window she leaned out of.
Blair met his eyes, but looked away instantly as if she were overlooking the area. She sighed, "I must say it is quite more rural than I imagined."
He chuckled, "We are in the country. Surely you are not so foolish—"
"Your Highness, I was only teasing you. I do admire how quick you are to defend your country though, même si c'est l'Angleterre," Blair whispered, and then giggled herself.
(English Translation: "even if it is England")
Chuck leaned in closer to her, their faces mere inches apart. He wanted her to feel his hot breath against her shimmering skin. His lips ached to—he stopped the thought before it could finish. "I thought I told you to call me Chuck," he whispered, kinking his eyebrows.
"I—I cannot address His Highness by his Christian name in the presence of others. It is not proper," Blair dismissed, feeling flustered. She hated how he could do that to her. It made it harder for her to be in control of her now planned seduction. She couldn't be just another liaison to him.
"You will do whatever I tell you to," Chuck returned. His voice was sultry, but also commanding. He smirked and sat up again, gazing at the city ahead of him. "London awaits us."
Blair followed his eyes. She could already see Whitehall Palace in her line of vision. It was not the largest she had seen, but it was a city castle and the inside of it was sure to be magnificent. Suddenly, it all felt far more real. Her eyes downcast and her lips pouted.
"Pendant que Paris m'oublie," Blair whispered, putting a hand to her heart. (English Translation: "Whilst Paris forgets me") She did not want anyone to hear, nor hard she intended it, but soon realized Chuck did. He was staring into her eyes as if seeing something he hadn't before for the first time. Was it possible he was paying so much attention that he discovered her sorrow? Would it insult him like any other man of England? She braced herself for possible punishment. Perhaps she'd be even more her father's daughter than she thought.
Instead of annoyance, Chuck leaned in close to her again. "It shall be nice to see a rose amongst so many daisies in the English Court now," he conveyed, lowering his voice with each word.
"Even if it is French?" Blair breathed. She felt her heart beat faster whenever he spoke. His voice was calming, but also dangerous. She couldn't explain it.
Chuck nodded, kissing her hand. His eyes zoned in on it the moment his lips touched her skin, as did hers. They had both felt the electricity. It burned her skin and caused his lips to tingle, each craving for more in their own ways.
XOXOXOXOXO
Whitehall Palace, London
Blair wondered into the throne room at Whitehall Palace. She had hoped to accidentally come across Chuck, but found not one royal in the room. Instead, she saw servants building a pretend palace of some sort. Around it scattered nobles and favorites of the royal family, draped in costumes. She stopped, putting a hand on her hip, and tried to figure what exactly was going on. As she pondered, someone came up from behind her and tapped her shoulder. She spun around alarmed, seeing who it was.
"Should you not have an escort of some sort in this new and perhaps frightening, foreign Palace?" Jack asked with the most sinister of smirks. It wasn't alluringly wicked like Chuck's, but uneasily dangerous.
Still, Blair kept her calm. "Your Grace," she greeted, bowing her head. Then she rose and turned forward. "I was only wondering what event this is and when it shall take place."
Jack grazed his eyes over the commotion with little interest. He sighed, "A silly play of some sort, most likely to make the Duchess Catherine Gray feel welcome."
She nodded and pointed to the women who rehearsed in the pretend castle balconies. "What about the ladies in white? What is their purpose?" Blair wondered. They were dressed like princesses with crowns and that was something that interested her. What made them so special?
"They are the Graces. They have names like Kindness, Honor, and Constance, Mercy and Pity," Jack furthered, nodding his head towards each girl. He was most certain he had seen each of them in his bed before.
"They are prisoners in the castle," Jack added, smirking at her as he moved ever so closer. His shoulder touched hers.
She released a loud sounding breath and casually stepped away from him. She acted as if furthering her examination of the display before meeting his eyes again. "Who is keeping them prisoner?" Blair questioned.
He put a hand to his chest. "My personal favorites: Danger, Jealousy, Unkindness, Scorn, Disdain, Strangeness, and…"
Jack was interrupted when a crowd of young men burst into the room. They headed straight for the girls, shouting things out.
Blair's eyebrows rose to signify Jack explain that.
He rolled his eyes and sighed, "The men represent: Youth, Devotion, Loyalty, Pleasure, Gentleness, and Liberty. Only they are not all there. His Royal Highness, my nephew, will perform with them. Though all members are masked until the Graces are rescued."
"Chu—I mean Prince Charles will rescue one of the Graces?" Blair asked immediately, biting her tongue soon after. She had not meant to sound so eager, especially to Jack. She didn't quite care for him the moment she saw him. There was something in her that told her to stay away from him whenever she could, but at the moment he was being useful so she didn't.
"Yes, in jest at least. You will soon find the Prince does nothing honorable," Jack scoffed, sounding with clear disdain for his nephew.
Blair peered at him with piqued interest in his tone. She would think someone, especially his uncle, would speak with more love for the Prince of England—or at least pretend to.
Jack felt her eyes burning into the side of his face. He turned, flashing a grin full of mischief. "Is something troubling you, Lady Blair?" he asked. He did not sound sincere, but instead amused.
"Of course not, Your Grace," she dismissed, shaking her head. She pretended to watch the rehearsal once more. "I only hope one day I shall see what it's like to be a Grace of England." It was a complete lie, but frankly she didn't care if he realized that or not. She had already started to make mental notes about Jack, like she did everyone. So far she had concluded he was for the good of no one, but himself and likely found pleasure in twisted, tormented things.
"Let that day come now then," Jack nodded. He then held up his hand and signaled the director over. The man quickly scurried to him.
Blair's eyebrows rose. She wasn't sure why he was helping her, or if he even knew he was. She supposed she should not think so much about it though and just be happy her plan was so easily falling into place.
"Your Grace, what can I do for you?" the director asked, bowing before them.
Jack smirked, putting a hand on Blair's lower back. "I am not aware if you have met the Lady Blair, future Princess of England, to be wed to his Lordship, Thomas Gray?" he introduced.
The director looked to Blair, shook his head, and bowed. "No, but I assure you it is a pleasure, my Lady," he said, kissing her hand.
Blair retracted it from him immediately. She had wanted it to remain the sole place for Chuck's lips, even if that wasn't realistic. Now it was ruined- until he re-established his territory.
"I would like you to do a favor for me, sir. Put Lady Blair in the play, at the top under the Broken Hearts. She is much more suited for the position than any other girl at court, would you not agree?" Jack ordered, motioning to Blair.
The director nodded, "Of course, Your Grace. I will have a costume sent to her at once. Shall she stay and practice?"
"No, I believe if the Prince can miss the rehearsal than surely I am intelligent enough to do the same," Blair answered, smirking at both men.
The director looked horrified, but Jack appeared highly entertained.
He chuckled, "So the Lady speaks for herself. Carry on then." He dismissed the other man and fully stepped in front of Blair.
"Why did you do that, Your Grace?" Blair asked. She spoke more seriously and in the lowest of voices. She wanted him to know he could not get anything by her—or so she thought so far.
Jack took her hand in his and kissed it. Then he leaned in close. "I was only trying to redeem myself. Consider us even?" he asked, meeting her eyes once more.
Her brow furrowed. "For what?" Blair inquired. It sounded as if she were almost demanding an answer from him. The way he had said what he did made her so uneasy she could not help herself. For no amount of charm from any English Royal Family member could make her forget what happened to her father, at their hands.
"You ask too many questions," Jack concluded, shaking his head. He then let go of her hand and walked away from her, disappearing just as mysteriously as he first came.
She slowly turned into herself, rubbing her hand against her dress. He made her feel dirty. She decided she'd rather have been kissed by ten peasants than have his lips upon any part of her skin again.
"You should be more careful with whom you are seen speaking to in light of recent events," Nate drawled, coming up from behind her.
Blair turned around, narrowing her eyes at him. "I will do no such thing, nor will a man of your rank tell me to do anything, Lord Nathaniel," she bit. She didn't care if she technically agreed with him, she refused to have anyone push her around.
Nate shook his head. "Lady Blair, I am a Duke. You do not address me with a term so simple as Lord. Surely you know that, even if you were raised in France," he insulted.
She scoffed, "Forgive me, Your Grace. You see it was in France I learned titles are to be earned, not given by favor of the Prince."
He stood back for a few moments and moved closer to her, speaking in her ear. "How is it you have just arrived, but know so much of me?"
Blair shrugged, "Is it not a true Lady's job to know of all she shall one day associate with when coming to Court?"
"Yes, but we were not talking of a true, English Lady. We were speaking of you," Nate mocked, grinning at her. Perhaps he could have liked her in another lifetime, at a more mature place in his life, but not now. After all she had already taken so much of his friend's attention in such little time.
"Yes, you are correct in that conclusion, Your Grace. If I were an English woman you would see an odd-looking book shaped cap on my head rather than this nicely fitted French one," Blair smirked, twirling a mahogany colored curl between her fingertips.
"Au revoir, Monsieur," she giggled, then bowed, and left.
(English Translation: "Goodbye, your Grace")
Nate had never found himself so frustrated with a woman. He had also never been so disrespected by one. His mother was a quiet, faithful Lady. She knew the rules of the society he was raised by and abided by them at all cost. He knew of no other world—until Lady Blair smacked him in the face with it. And now all he wanted was to rid of it again.
XOXOXOXOXO
Chuck examined his reflection in the mirror, whilst waiting behind the curtain. He heard the drum roll, trumpets, and then light music of the harp. The performance was starting, the Graces arriving in the room beside him. Although he enjoyed the attention of his people, he had tried to get out of the event, finding it tiring. The maidens were masked and even when revealed mostly looked the same. There was never any change. The same practice took place each year, the exact dress, and so on of the tired tradition.
Suddenly, the sound of awes and whispers overpowered the harp.
"Your Highness, come and look what your little French friend has done now," William called. He and the other men were gathered around the small opening of the curtain.
Lady Blair's beautiful face immediately came to Chuck's mind. He pushed past all of them so he had the best and practically only view of what was going on.
The Graces entered the room, climbing the stairs to the castle. All were the same, except for one, except for her.
All ladies dressed in white, tightly fitted corset tops, and outward skirts. They wore fluffy white collars around their necks, small sets of pearl earrings, gold masks, and a modest crown atop their heads. There hair was pulled back in the tightest of buns and their lips a modest pink.
Blair was quite different though. Although her dress was the same, the collar was missing, exposing her lovely neck. She wore drop pearl earrings instead of bulbs. Her mask and crown were the same, but her hair was a looser bun, a few strands of curls framing her face. And her lips—well they were the deepest of reds.
"A rose among daisies," Chuck repeated breathlessly.
The drums started and Chuck found himself pushed forward into the room. He was still so fascinated with Blair though he found his motions slower than the others. His bow came much later, rather than in union with the rest of his men. He stood out immediately, but so did she.
"I demand you release your prisoners, upon our desires," the elder man, dressed in the most silly of costumes, commanded.
One of the maidens dressed in black looked to the man. "As Lady Scorn, I laugh at your desires," she mocked, speaking loud and clear.
"These men are noble Lords!" the man refuted. The crowd cheered in union as he motioned to them.
Lady Jealousy smirked, "No, they're just men dressed up!"
The audience laughed.
"I say it again, release these fair damsels that you keep so cruelly!" he ordered, waving his sword at them.
"Never!"
The man spoke up over the now booing crowd. "Then you give us no choice, but to attack and breech your defenses!" he shouted.
"No Knight shall ever breech mine," Lady Unkindness retorted, emphasizing the innuendo by the tone of her voice.
Chuck laughed along with the rest of the men in the room. The woman mostly blushed, some creating a cross across their chest. However, when he looked to Blair he saw her—grinning. Without a doubt, he knew which damsel he was going to rescue.
"Lady, desire defeats all! Attack!" The trumpets sounded, as did fake booms around the room, and the ladies in black began to throw petals at the men circling the castle.
Chuck kicked open the gate though and hurried inside, jumping each step to the top and center balcony. He climbed up hastily and grabbed onto Blair's hand, hanging off the side.
Their eyes connected in the most intense and passionate of gazes.
His chest heaved up on and down, lacking breath, and awed in her presence. Both of their hearts beat in rapid union. He couldn't smile, but she did. It almost made him tremble.
"Perseverance, you are my prisoner now," Chuck declared, gripping tighter onto her hand. He tried to pull her closer, her lips closer, but she stood strong and still.
Blair giggled, "Am I?" She then let go of his hand and twirled around, hurrying down the back steps.
Chuck jumped over the balcony though and grabbed onto the back of her skirt as they came into view. He yanked her against his front, speaking closer to her ear. "Shall I fully conquer you now?" His hot breath hit her nape.
A shiver ran down her spine and Blair closed her eyes. She felt his hand travel around her waist, sliding down to feel the shape of her thigh. They were only lucky the gate around the castle guarded the moment from public eye.
Music began to play.
Blair spun around, pushing a hand to his chest. "We must go and dance now, Your Highness. The performance is not yet over," she insisted.
He grabbed her arms and yanked her to his chest. Chuck smirked, "We shall go nowhere until you surrender. Say you are mine for the taking." He was fully ordering her now, but he couldn't stop himself. The more he breathed her in, the greater his want became.
She tried to pull away from him, but he only held her closer, tighter. People began to whisper, noticing their absence. Her mother would surely kill her if she did not appear soon. She closed her eyes. "Je suis toute vôtre," Blair whispered quickly.
(English Translation: "I am yours for the taking")
Chuck smirked, leaning in to kiss her neck, but his lips only met wind. He found he had released her and she was well on her way to getting away from him.
She looked back over her shoulder and smiled. "Until the game is over of course," Blair taunted. And then she was gone; furthering the deepening craving he had for her.
XOXOXOXOXO
Thomas sat at a table once a casual atmosphere took hold of the room. He kept his eyes on Blair. She moved quickly, but gracefully. Each time she turned he prepared to stand, greet her, but she never looked his way. His heart rose and fell every time she neglected him. It was as if she greeted every man in the room, even speaking to some, but him.
Chuck appeared from between a crowd, so close to Blair, that he seemed to be riding the back of her gown's skirt. He seemed to be calling for her attention, but she hopefully could not hear because she didn't address him. Thomas hoped the Prince would not be ill tempered with his fiancée.
"How does it feel, Thomas?"
Thomas turned at the sound of a male voice. He saw Duke Nathaniel Archibald, wine in hand, sit down beside him. Alcohol immediately flooded his nostrils. He was drunk.
"How does what feel, Your Grace?" Thomas asked, shifting in his seat in an uncomfortable fashion. He had never cared much for drinking, even limiting it to mass at times.
Nate scoffed, "How every man at Court follows your French fiancée like a dog, how they leer at her, and how even the Prince is fascinated by her mere presence?" He motioned his hand towards her in a dramatic fashion.
Thomas lowered his voice. "Please Your Grace, do not speak of the Lady Blair in such a bitter tone whilst I am near." He turned forward again, seeing that Blair had finally addressed Chuck. The Prince was rather close to her too, but Thomas assured himself it was only with sibling-like affection.
"You're a fucking fool," Nate rasped.
"Excuse me, Your Grace?" Thomas asked slowly. He was trying to contain his anger, but it was growing more and more difficult. He did not like to be insulted as if he were some common idiot.
"If the Prince of England advises those he cares for most not to love then what do you think he shall do to those he hates, those who have what he now apparently wants?" Nate furthered, standing up.
Thomas matched him. "I do not understand—"
Nate moved closer and put a hand to his chest. "How can you not understand? I have been his closest and most loyal friend since we were children and this is the first time I have ever seen him act like that!" he seethed, pointing directly at Chuck and Blair.
When Thomas turned he saw Chuck was now dancing with Blair, much similar to the way they had in the Palace of Illusions—when they first met. He put his head down and shook his head.
"You should let sleep find you, Your Grace. The wine is messing with your head," Thomas denied.
Nate rolled his eyes and scoffed, "No, but she shall mess with yours and any other man who comes across her." He then pushed Thomas lightly and stormed away from him.
Thomas watched him and then looked on Chuck and Blair again. Apparently they had separated, but the Prince almost ran into the Lady and now stood directly in front of her. They stared at each other for what seemed like forever.
"Forgive me," Chuck mouthed. He stepped to the side, but watched her as if pained in doing so. Blair bowed and moved past him, her shoulder brushing his. He closed his eyes, now seeming pleasured.
Worry creased Thomas's brow, but alas he shook his head and did his best to ignore it. He loved Blair and she—would at the very least learn to love him. It was not a crime to be charmed by the Prince of England. She had done nothing wrong.
XOXOXOXOXO
Blair smirked wickedly with an alluring approach. She danced with delicate footsteps around the room for mere moments as doe brown eyes connected with a pair of ebony. Then she giggled and fell down forward, onto the desk. Pouting her lips, she peered up at him. Her arms shifted and the low line of her cleavage left little to his imagination.
"What are you doing out of bed at such an hour?" Chuck asked, trying to sound casual. He cleared his throat, leaning back in his chair, and kept a stern manner about himself. Still he felt the thick air of temptation began to fill the room.
She sighed as if completely bored and rose, shrugging her shoulders. "I could not sleep. The castle is so cold and I had far too much on my mind," Blair told him with a spacious enunciation. She then smiled invitingly at him as she sat down on his desk and dangled her feet in between his legs.
His left eyebrow rose in interest. He slid his hand onto her knee though found himself instantly frustrated it was heavily clothed by her white nightgown. Biting harshly onto his bottom lip, he shook his head and looked away. "What would such a naïve girl have to worry herself with?" he spat, closing his eyes.
The ends of her lips tugged up and she leaned forward. She gripped onto the clothing over his chest and spoke close to his ear. "Only what to wear in court that shall please you, Your Highness."
Chuck's eyes snapped open and his jaw clenched. He yanked her roughly down into his lap, spreading her legs so that they wrapped around him. Rapid breath spurred from his lips and nostrils flared. "Why are you toying with me like this? You're engaged to another man," Chuck seethed.
With an innocent countenance she shook her head. "I despise him with every fiber in my being," Blair expressed. She then rested her forehead against his, nuzzling his cheek. "I only wish to please you while I still can."
"Red then," he rasped. His eyes rolled back into his head as he felt her lips on his neck. He wrapped his arms around her tightly, possessively.
"What?" she frowned, pulling back. When he was still lost in their touch though she grabbed hold of his cheeks and forced their eyes to meet.
He smirked at her rough actions. It was enticing to see her irritated for once. He shot his hands up and grabbed hold of where her nape met her head. Then he forced it back some until she let go of her hold on him. He shoved her face into the crook of his neck and nipped at her upper cheek.
"In my court, you shall wear red. Your dress shall be low-cut and with thin sleeves. Paint your lips like blood and spill dark curls down your back," Chuck breathed in command. His body twitched when he felt her slender leg wedge between his thighs.
And then without warning, Blair pushed against his chest and stood. She smirked, "I have no such dress to wear." She giggled and bowed her head.
"Bonne nuit, Votre Altesse." (English Translation: "Goodnight, your Highness")
Chuck's mouth fell agape for a moment and he clenched onto the arms of his chair. Then he watched in shock as she left the room just as quickly as she had come before.
But unbeknownst to him, Blair stopped right outside the door. She rested against the castle wall and bit on her knuckles. A light feeling arose in her stomach as she waited for what she wanted. And it came.
Suddenly, the sound of crashing came from the study. Chuck began to pour out all his sexual frustration she had left him with. He tore curtains from the walls and knocked his heavy desk to the floor.
"Yes," Blair breathed. She put a hand to her heart that beat rapidly and then hurried back to her room, making sure to the lock the door.
XOXOXOXOXO
Chuck walked into the empty castle corridors, hearing his heavy footsteps against the stone. There was a light fog about the air, not entirely uncommon, but not typical either. He didn't know where he was going in his mind, but his body led the way with full assurance. He turned the corner and froze. There she was.
Blair stood in the open, empty room. Her back to him but turned to meet his eyes. She smiled softly, mysteriously.
He smirked, walking towards her, but then she started to run. Chuck laughed; realizing this chasing game of theirs was far from over. But he could catch better than anyone, even if he'd never tried before.
Blair ran around a corner and he slid to a stop. He followed her around and around a wall, his hands against the stone as he wished to set them upon her flesh. He stopped suddenly, his eyes searching for her when she vanished. She was quickly found again though.
"Blair," Chuck rasped, entering the darker room she sat in. He noticed she was on his throne, but he didn't care. He pushed himself between her legs and reached to throw up her dress.
"Don't," Blair whispered. She pushed his hands away and shook her head. "Not like this, never like this. I will not be like all others." Her voice was stern, but sensual.
He shook his head, ready to give her whatever she wanted. "You are not like them. You fascinate me. Tell me what you want and I shall give it to you," Chuck swore, grabbing hold of her hand and kissing it.
She smirked, whispering close to his ear. "Seduce me," Blair ordered.
Chuck closed his eyes, a flutter in the pit of his stomach, as she placed soft kisses on the side of his jaw.
"You have to prove that you want me, like you never have before. Ravish me with your words and actions," she furthered. She then stood and backed away from him.
Chuck stood, following her as she backed into another room, but having to stop before the doorway.
"Seduce me," Blair repeated. She closed the doors in his face.
He was about to beat on them, but then realized they weren't locked. He gripped the handles and threw them open. Chuck almost dropped to his knees at the sight.
Blair gasped, holding her arms around her chest. She was completely nude. Her perfect form displayed.
Chuck took a footstep into the room.
"Ahhh!" Chuck sat up in bed, screaming at the top of his lungs. He breathed heavy; tearing off his shirt in a frustrated fashion, when he realized it was a dream.
The servant at his side jumped up and his guards at the door quickly filed in. "Your Highness, what is wrong? Has someone agonized you?" Dan questioned.
Chuck ran a rough hand down his face, wiping at the beads of sweat. He shook his head. "What does it matter? There's nothing you could do. She's gone," he whispered.
Dan frowned, "Who is gone, Your Highness?"
"She is gone," Chuck repeated. He turned to his servant then and grabbed onto his shirt, yanking him forward. "Go and get me the Royal dressmaker now!"
"Your Highness, it is the middle of the—"
"I said now!" Chuck screamed, pushing him forward.
Dan almost fell to the ground, but caught himself. He nodded quickly and stumbled out of the room, not daring to ever question the prince's actions again.
Chuck wrapped his arms around himself and closed his eyes. If he gave her what she wanted, she'd give him what he wanted—her.
XOXOXOXOXO
"Ma Lady, il est l'heure de vous réveiller de votre sieste," the servant girl announced as she pulled back the surrounding curtains that hung from the bed. (English Translation: "My Lady, it is time to awake from your midday nap")
Blair held a hand over her head and frowned, blinking her eyes. She was still tired from the night before. She had stayed up so late when provoking Chuck.
"Tea," Blair commanded. She held out one hand and used the other to push her body up into a sitting position.
"Yes, my Lady," the head maid answered as she brought a delicate porcelain cup and placed it into Blair's hands.
Blair sipped on it for a few moments. She then looked on the bustling maids with a dull expression. The previous night had proved to be fun, but she doubted much fun would take place in court. She would need to be proper while on that imbecile's arm.
"What shall you wear to court today, my Lady?" one finally asked as she bowed at the end of the bed, before the brunette.
Blair sighed, pursing her lips as she pondered the thought. She was just about to suggest one of her mother's latest gowns when a gasp was heard from the maid at her bureau.
"What is it, girl?" Blair spat immediately. She climbed onto her knees and to the end of the bed, arching her head for a better view.
"I—I just had not noticed such a dress in your wardrobe before, my Lady. Forgive me," the servant girl apologized. She then brought out the dress and held it up for Blair to see.
The other girls and women in the room all blushed at it's low-cut and divulging bodice. More importantly, it was one of the deepest reds Blair had ever seen in her entire life.
"Chuck," Blair breathed, touching her heart. She got up from the bed and touched the material. Instantly she smirked. It was only the best of course.
She then turned around and nodded with a high sense of pride. "I shall wear it. See if there are any remarkable jewels as well. And I want my lips painted red, hair dropped down my back," Blair ordered.
The head maid shook her head with great disapproval. "But my Lady, it is not proper for one to wear something so—"
"Anything is proper if given by the Prince. Do you disagree?" Blair retorted, left eyebrow quirking.
"No, my Lady," the elder woman quickly shook her head.
"Good," Blair smirked. She then turned forward once more and closed her eyes. "Be sure to bring me one of my best corsets as well. Such a dress should be worn to its true potential."
XOXOXOXOXO
Jack came into Bart's study, holding out his arms. "Brother, why have you called upon me? Are you upset I have not yet properly congratulated you on your upcoming nuptials?" he asked with a sarcastic tone of voice.
Bart looked up at him with serious blue eyes. "I have been informed you were speaking to Lady Blair yesterday. What about?" he asked.
"Just explaining an English custom. If you have anyone to worry about getting close to her then look to your own son," Jack smirked, sitting down across form him.
"My own son," Bart said quietly. He changed the subject, getting back to business as he met his younger brother's eyes. "What exactly happened in Italy, Jack?" He didn't have to say what he really thought aloud, they both knew what he really meant.
Jack's eyes narrowed and he shook his head. "Surely you do not think I conspired to have the Prince of England, my own nephew, killed?" he scoffed.
"You have ordered deaths to those closest to me before—Duke Waldorf, for example," Bart reminded him, bringing up a memory he tried each day to bury in his mind, to forget.
His brother rolled his eyes. "Not this again. I know his daughter has come to Court, but for God's sake I had good reason. Besides, any member of the French Court does not belong in England," Jack retaliated.
Bart's eyes opened and his fist banged against the desk. "I had known him since I was a boy. He was very neutral with our countries and you knew that!" he shouted, breathing harshly.
Jack stilled for a moment, but then refused to back down. "It does not matter. If the church had known what he really did, how he truly betrayed God—"
"I do not want to speak of this anymore," Bart dismissed, standing up. He turned to his back to Jack and looked out the window. "Let us speak of you serving your best purpose in England elsewhere instead."
"What?" Jack shot up from his seat. "You are not banishing your own brother from Court!" he shouted.
Bart turned around to face him. "No, but I am ordering that he serve his own Royal Duty at another palace, in the country. There he can train with one of our proud armies. After all, he is so fond of battle and war," he declared.
Jack leaned back and stilled. His lips thinned and eyes narrowed. He knew not to yell anymore. Bart was unfortunately King and could do whatever he wanted. He could even have Jack's head if further angered with him. So he kept his voice low, but still threatening.
"Fine, but mark my words, I shall be back," Jack warned. He turned to leave, only stopping when he heard his brother speak again.
"Not if I say you will not," Bart claimed.
"Yes, but you shall not always be around to keep me away," Jack whispered to himself. Then he left, very angry.
XOXOXOXOXO
A/N: How was it? Do you still want to read more? Oh and hopefully anyone who was confused about Nate is now starting to understand him more.
Disclaimer: Obviously some things have been used from the Tudors to kick off and situate the correct time/mood/setting. There were some epic lines I needed to include, but for the most part I tried to keep CB dialogue original. If other dialogue or situations were repeated it had to do with me needing accurate Tudor events, such as the play or how dances are performed. If anyone knows any good websites where I can learn about these things please email me. I have a ton of scenes written for here on out that are entirely my own.
