Title: Fortune's Favours
Pairing: Charles Brandon / Henry Tudor
Rating: M
Story Summary: The story follows the storyline of the show, except for the fact that the King and his favorite Duke get a little closer in its course than in the original, making everything even more complicated. ;-)
Disclaimer: The Tudors belong to Showtime, I have absolutely no claim on the characters, the storyline etc.
A/N: I know the Tudors are in many points not exactly what you'd call historically accurate, still, in this fanfiction I decided to go with the Showtime version to avoid confusions.
Thanks to all my readers for rewieving. Special thanks to Narya for beta-reading depite having to finish a term paper and to Bunnster for sharing her amazingly detailed knowledge about the Tudor era with me and always finding the little historical inaccuracies I make.
Chapter Summary: A jousting tournament is held and Charles has to learn that having an affair with the King of England is really playing with fire.
Chapter Warnings: Explicit Slash
IV
Gentleness
Routinely, Charles rechecked all the buckles and straps of the saddle and then flattened his black's caparison, patting his neck before finally nodding at his groom. Of course the horse had been saddled and armoured perfectly, yet he had always liked to convince himself that everything was alright when it came to either battle or jousting. Especially, when he was up to both, or so he guessed he was.
He gently encouraged his horse after his groom helped him to get up, heading for the sideline of the list field. It was a beautiful day for a tournament with the late summer's sun spending enough warmth to enjoy the day out for the audience, but not so hot that the competitors boiled in their armour. Colourful ribbons and standards flattered in the soft breeze and the sound of trumpets, of galloping hooves and crushing lances together with the occasional cheering from the tribune contributed to the familiar feeling of excitement.
"Your Grace. I hope you are feeling well?"
Charles couldn't hide a smirk, still he bowed his head in a respectful gesture for the approaching rider. "Your Majesty. Thank you, I am perfectly well."
"Glad to hear," Henry replied in a casual tone, pretending to watch the ongoing tournament where two opponents just took up their lances. "I was already worried about our little wager, since I haven't seen you ride up to now. Worse, I have been wondering if it was my fault since I was riding you half of last night."
Charles met the quick, challenging glance from the side with seemingly unimpressed composure. "No need to worry, Majesty, I've spared myself for you."
"Good choice, I'd say." The dark promises in Henry's voice could not be easily overheard. However, though sending a shiver down his spine, Charles wasn't short of a reply.
"So our bet's still going? I take you down from your horse and then take you down later?"
Henry stared at him for a moment and then gave a short, derisive laugh.
"Try me, darling duke." And without giving Charles the chance for another answer, he urged his horse forward without glancing back.
If someone had told him only some weeks ago that words like these from a man's mouth would manage to stir up his blood, Charles would have probably laughed at that person. After all, he had a reputation as the most notorious squire of dames at court, perhaps aside from the King himself. But maybe that was the solution to the puzzle of his feelings – after all, Henry was not any man but the King of England. And Charles had long ago given up looking for reason or logic in his actions when Henry was involved, for the simple fact that there were none.
He spotted Anthony a few yards away, who turned his head and smiled faintly as Charles approached him.
"Well, well, how about that? His Grace gives us the honour of his presence."
"Of course he does, since he'd never miss out on jousting, as you know," Charles grinned.
"Still, we haven't seen you around a lot the last days. Your new title seems to bring a lot of responsibilities. Or a lot of women respectively."
Or a king with an insatiable appetite, Charles added in his head, deciding that it was time for a little evasion. "One woman, to be honest. She wants me to store half of the palace into one small boat, so there's a lot of scheduling, planning and so on."
"That I may live to see this, a woman troubling the great Charles Brandon," Anthony teased, yet it was not with the usual cheerfulness. There was some kind of aloofness in his friend's behaviour and words Charles clearly felt, yet it was subtle enough that he couldn't put a finger on it.
"Well, Princess Margaret would be the first Lady I have to leave unsatisfied, and I'm not going to take that," he joked back with an uneasy feeling in his stomach. Luckily, their conversation came to a sudden end when trumpets and loud cheering announced a new competitor.
"My Lords, the King now has entered the list."
"Well, Anthony, wish me luck," Charles muttered with a quick glance at the brown horse prancing along the tribune, with Henry in his shining armour on it.
"You are going to take the King?" Anthony raised his eyebrows.
"You bet I will," Charles grinned while already urging his horse, giving the announcer a short sign.
"His Grace, the Duke of Suffolk, makes the challenge à plaisance!"
An intrigued murmur ran through the crowd and especially the young ladies craned their necks. It was quite unusual that Charles and Henry jousted against each other since Charles had never been able to entirely banish the terrible though from his mind that he might accidentally hurt his friend. Still, it had been Henry who had proposed the wager and made it almost impossible for Charles to reject it.
"Well, what do you say, darling duke? Isn't that a generous offer?"Henry's fingers were still caressing his chest lazily, yet Charles knew perfectly well the lion's claws could come out every moment if he said the wrong thing now. "You'll get what you want… if you beat me on Saturday."
"You'll be a single bruise after I've thrown you into the mud, Majesty," Charles teased back playfully, trying to mask his concern. "It won't be much fun for me."
"Are you afraid of hurting me?" Henry's eyes glittered in mockery as he reached out to pinch one nipple hard enough to make his friend cringe. "For Christ's sake, you'd think I am lying in bed with a timid little maid."
With an angry growl, Charles slapped away his hand and then grabbed the wrist, pulling Henry closer. "All right. What do you get when you win?"
"Oh, it's not much," Henry purred, slowly leaning in until his lips almost touched Charles'. His next words were no more than a faint whisper, yet sending a shiver through his lover's body.
"I want you in chains, darling duke. I want you to kneel on the stone floor for me, not able to move a single hand and endure everything I put you through. And I want to tease and play with your body until you utterly surrender to me and finally beg me to fuck you."
The tension between them was almost tangible for a moment until Charles finally released his breath.
"That… sounds… twisted."
"I know." Henry's smile was that of a very self-satisfied cat. "Are you in?"
The coats of arms were displayed visibly on the pole, the royal three lions and the fleur-de-lis on the left and the single golden lion on red and white stripes of the Brandon family on the right. Charles went through the preliminaries mechanically, taking up the lance and parading with it in front of the tribune, paying respect to the Queen and asking for the favours of a blushing young maid on the tribune. And every second he felt the piercing pale eyes watching him until they finally took in their places and closed the visors of the helmets.
The flag went down and Charles' trained jousting horse shot forward without any encouragement needed. Hooves boomed along the list, both horses approaching with incredible speed and Charles lifted himself up in the stirrups, aiming at his opponent and…
Often it is only a tiny moment of indecision or hesitation in jousting that makes the decision. A fleeting thought crossed his mind – please, don't make me hurt him – and the next moment something hard crashed against his head like a hammer, throwing it backwards and for an instant, everything around him seemed to fade to black. Then his senses returned and he realized that he was reeling dangerously on his horse's back that fell to a slow walk again. Quick-wittedly, Charles managed to grab his saddle, holding himself in place while his head was still buzzing and aching. Moreover, he seemed to have bitten his tongue since he tasted blood in his mouth.
"Two points for His Majesty!"
And then there was a supporting arm around his shoulders and the helmet was pulled from his head, giving way for fresh air and his senses cleared again.
"Charles? Are you all right?" There was real concern in Henry's voice; however, as Charles nodded, obviously recovering from the blow, he lowly added, "And I thought you'd be used to me thrusting you by now."
"Fuck you, Henry," Charles muttered, though not entirely able to ban a weak grin from his face.
"Only if you do better than this next round." A small pat on his back, then Henry returned the helmet and turned his horse to get back to his starting position. Charles grimaced and spat out some blood, still, aside from his bitten tongue and his pride, he wasn't injured.
Two points for a strike at the head. That meant he either had to dismount Henry next round or to yield to his King as his plaything for the entire of the night. Chances were small, yet he wouldn't give up now.
His groom handed him another lance and he returned to the starting pole, readjusting his helmet that had a visible dent at the front.
Focus. You want that man, so go and get what you want. Don't be prissy, he isn't either.
And somehow he managed to push it all out of his head for a moment and see only his opponent, neither the king nor the lover or the friend. The flag fell and the horses shot forward, lances aiming at gleaming armours… and this time, Charles's lance found his aim, with a satisfying sound crashing against his opponent, the blowback pushing himself back into his saddle.
"A terre! His Grace wins the day!"
Charles reined his horse and looked back, spotting the brown stallion slowly coming to a stop with an empty saddle. Triumph shot through his body, just to be replaced an instant later by sudden anxiety when he saw the motionless body in the sand.
And outcry went through the crowd and various people jumped from their seats to hurry to their fallen King. Charles urged his horse, utter horror spreading through his body when he arrived at his friend's side, climbing out of his saddle and kneeling next to Henry. Just as he wanted to grab his shoulders, an arm came up and slapped his hand away.
"Do. Not. Touch me."
"Oh thank God…" Charles muttered, his hands falling down to his knees as relief streamed in. Henry slowly removed his helmet, looking dishevelled and annoyed, but rather unharmed.
"Your Majesty, is everything all right?"
"Your Majesty…"
People were gathering around them, concerned questions came up and helpful hands were extended.
"Yes, I'm fine," Henry snapped back, ignoring the hands, his pale eyes still trained on Charles. "You. Back off. I don't want to see you until I call for you, is that understood?"
"Majesty, I'm…"
"Remove yourself. Now," Henry growled dangerously low.
Charles suppressed a sigh, slowly rising from the list and leaving with a last look at Henry who as well carefully came up to his feet. There would be an aftermath to this situation he wasn't really looking forward to and, in fact, this had been the second reason why he hadn't been eager for the wager Henry had offered him.
After all, the King was notorious for being the worst loser at court.
Henry called for him in the late evening hours, which was earlier than Charles had expected for someone with a nature as unforgiving as his King. When he arrived, Henry was resting in his armchair, wearing only his pants and boots and the black silken gown fell open to leave the chest bare. It was a rather appealing sight, except for the bluish-black bruise on the ribs being clearly visible in the soft firelight. Since he wasn't entirely sure of what to think about this, Charles simply bowed formally.
"Your Majesty."
"Read this."
Henry's voice was blank of emotion, so Charles picked up the piece of parchment Henry was pointing at and started to read, glad about the opportunity to have something else to look at. It was a religious pamphlet, he quickly discovered, condemning Luther and his doctrine and, in the same way, praising the Holy Church of Rome and papacy. And as ever, his King hadn't minced matters in any way but given way to his feelings vividly.
"So? What do you think?" Henry asked the moment he had finished skimming over the text.
"It's good, really," Charles replied carefully, "though you should rather ask some scholars about it, like your friend Thomas More or the Cardinal Wolsey. Will you send a copy of it to Rome? "
"Indeed. To Rome and to all important princes in Europe. There can be no doubt that Luther is a damnable heretic who has to be stopped at all costs. Still, I have been told that he gains followers in the German states quickly, and is even guest of one of their princes. It just cannot be tolerated!"
"You're really passionate about this, aren't you?" Charles asked intrigued and Henry smiled a little.
"Actually I am. It is my deepest conviction that Luther has to be burned together with his heretic doctrine. Moreover, I am convinced that I am chosen to be the one defending our Christendom in the first place. After all, I owe the Lord quite a lot of penance, don't you think?"
There was a moment of uncomfortable silence between them until Henry beckoned him over and down, lightly placing a hand on Charles' cheek.
"You never waste a thought about that, do you?" he whispered. "That it is actually sin what we're doing here? That you and I are committing the disgustful act of sodomy almost every night?"
"I have thought about it," Charles answered hesitatingly, not sure what exactly Henry was aiming at.
"And your conclusions, Your Grace?" The hand was moving, tracing his jaw and closing playfully around the nape of his neck.
"Well… I think…" He ached to lean into his friend's caresses, yet he knew better than to fall for them right now. Still, they made him feel all edgy and it was considerably harder to speak. "As a loyal servant of His Majesty I believe that to serve my king is to serve God. So my conscience is clear, for that matter."
"How good for you," Henry replied mockingly, absent-mindedly toying with the curls at Charles' nape. "So the charge is once again all mine, I guess – while you are enjoying all privileges of nobility including the estates and the little fortune I endowed you with."
"Hold on!" Charles pulled himself together and straightened so that his face was out of Henry's reach. "The only privileges of my nobility I have enjoyed so far are disdainful glances from the court as well as an endless amount of travel arrangements since your sister sends me her chamberlain almost every day with some extra demands. I haven't even seen my estates up to now, since you don't want to let me leave court. And on top of that –" He broke off when he got aware of the dangerous glitter in Henry's eyes, yet it was already too late.
"Yes, Charles? And on top of that… what?"
"Majesty, after all it was you who wanted me in your bed," Charles replied as matter-of-factly as it was possible speaking about such a delicate topic.
"Are you actually trying to suggest you didn't want it at all?" Henry spat, his hands closing tighter around the armrests of his chair.
"No, Majesty, I don't, but…" Still, Henry didn't let him a chance to speak.
"You're such a terrible hypocrite, Charles. On the one hand, you act like a fucking virgin, blaming your lewd King for literally dragging you to his bed and denying all kind of responsibility, while on the other hand you help yourself shamelessly to all the advantages you can get from this. If I am the only one in charge and the only one who wants this, how come you're so eager to lay me that you've let yourself in for our wager?"
Charles had to stifle another sharp-tongued response that would have bought him real trouble for sure. However, he now had a very good idea why Henry was that combative and nitpicky and therefore changed his tactic to calm the waves a little.
"Henry, if this is about our wager… just forget about that, if you like. I will surely not insist on something that makes my King feel uncomfortable in any way."
The same hesitated for a moment, visibly surprised about Charles giving in that easily.
"Well, you've already done that quite well this afternoon," he finally growled.
"I know and I'm sorry for that," Charles said gently and returned to Henry's armchair, bending down and lightly placing his hands on his friend's arms in a placable, seductive gesture. Pale eyes were staring at him and though Charles felt Henry tensing at his touch, he gave no answer. Feeling encouraged, Charles leaned in until their lips were only inches apart.
"Majesty, with your permission… may I try to soothe your pain?" he whispered against Henry's lips, knowing that the use of formalities in love play never failed to stir his blood.
"Granted, I guess." The answer came delayed and a little husky, bringing a small smile to Charles' lips he quickly hid by leaning in for a gentle kiss. But his lips left his friend's only an instant later to wander down his neck and caress the shoulders.
It was really an odd thing and Henry would have surely ripped his head off if he'd be so stupid to tell him, yet basically, seducing the King of England worked exactly like seducing most of the women Charles had bedded in the recent years. They needed to be courted, wanted to see some of a man's devotion to them before they opened their legs for him. With Henry, things were naturally far more complicated. He'd damaged his King's pride in the afternoon, enough that Henry would never give him his prize simply for the fact that he feared he would no longer hold the reins in their strange affair anymore. Still, if it was some act of devotion he needed to be reassured of Charles' loyalty… he could have that.
And so his caresses took a slow pathway down Henry's chest, paying special attention to the bruise over his ribs, kissing the bashed skin until he finally heard a small sigh from his lover's lips. Then Charles finally knelt down between his legs, opening the laces of his pants that showed a visible bulge already. After all, he had satisfied dozens of women that way, it couldn't be much harder with a man, could it? At least the fierce moan from Henry's lips when his mouth closed around hardened flesh proved him right.
"Bloody hell…"
"Everything all right?" Charles teased, raising his head just a little. "Majesty…?"
"Shut up and go on," Henry growled, his right hand digging into his friend's dark curls, nudging him impatiently. Charles had to stifle a laugh but hurried to lower his head again in pretended compliance.
He had always enjoyed this part of lovemaking for the power rush it gave him. Just to hear Henry's moans was thrilling enough, but to look up and watch his facial expression in the firelight, changing from arousal to frustration and back when Charles erratically teased him with his tongue or to feel his grip in his hair tighten when he went about it a little faster and more steady was priceless. He could have stretched this out for hours; still, he didn't want Henry to be worn out entirely. The body under his hands shivered, tensed and then finally relaxed with a sigh of release, salty warmth filling his mouth and he swallowed it without thinking.
"God, Charles… you're a devil," Henry sighed after some moments of recovering, reaching out to stroke his face gently.
"I guess this means you liked it, thank you very much," Charles teased him, resting his chin on one of his lover's thighs.
Henry didn't reply to this but seemed to be lost in his thoughts, absent-mindedly tracing Charles' lips with his fingertips while his friend let him take his time. There was absolutely no need to rush things right now.
"Do you still want to bed me?" Henry finally asked out of the blue, though Charles had expected the question.
"I'd love to. Still… as I said, you don't have to do this."
"Of course I don't have to. At least, if I don't mind feeling like a selfish prick for the next days," Henry sighed. "Will you at least be gentle with me?"
"Majesty… I swear I'll handle you with kid gloves," Charles replied, seeming serious, but inside gloating with triumph.
"Don't you dare that," Henry growled, giving him a light smack on the back of his head. Then he rose from his armchair with a soft groan. "Come on then." He walked over to his sleeping chamber and Charles followed him, a content grin spread all over his face.
And he was indeed gentle that night, restraining his own desire to make his friend feel as comfortable as possible, much unlike their first night together. Henry was not as tensed up as Charles had expected and quite receptive for his attempts to gently ease and seduce him. The cracking of the fire and their soft moans and whispers were the only sounds in the chamber, their entangled bodies and the shared warmth the only thing that mattered and for some sweet, precious moments Charles could forget about everything, the court, their positions, the difference in power, their forbidden, sinful affair… for it didn't matter right now. It was just Henry and him, sharing this precious moment of intimacy together and he just wished they'd never have to let go of each other.
It was maybe during these moments when Charles realized just how madly he was in love with him.
And the world around us won't stop turning tonight,
I like, I like.
I'm losing control right now and I feel it's right,
I like, I like.
We're caught in this moment, I won't let you go,
and the world around us won't stop turning tonight.
I like, I like, I like, I like.
~ Keri Hilson, I Like ~