Title: Fortune's Favours
Pairing: Charles Brandon / Henry Tudor
Rating: M
Story Summary: King Henry and his favorite duke get a little closer than best friends normally are, complicating matters even more than they are already. Covers season 1 & 2.
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 Narya for beta-reading! And a priori apologies to Bunnster for including a sex scene with Anne Boleyn. *lol*
The scene where Charles proposes to Catherine is actually a deleted scene from season 1 you can find on YouTube... and I always thought it was slightly odd... You can find it on YouTube, just type in "tudors deleted scenes 2" and pick the first entry. The scene is shown between 3.57 -5.35
Chapter Summary: Charles draws his conclusions from Margaret's death and makes a hard decision...
Chapter Warnings: Explicit sex (het) and quite depressing, I think
X
It's Nothing
Nearly all his life, Charles had considered the royal court to be his true home. Maybe it had to do with the fact that Westhorpe and Suffolk had been his exile for half a year, but he had never really referred to it as home and had always been glad when he could turn his back on the peaceful, green countryside and return to the busy, grandiose palace at the river Thames. But now for the first he had time felt reluctant to leave the duchy where he had stayed for the previous two summer months behind in order to mourn his wife. He had spent plenty of time with his half-orphaned son, trying to make up for the loss of his mother, and had spent reams of hours thinking, roaming the countryside on horseback or sitting idly at one of the many places she had loved. And when he had finally made a decision, a message from Secretary Cromwell arrived that he was expected back for the next council session. No personal message from Henry, nothing, which made Charles assume he was still angry with him. Yet when he arrived, Norfolk told him secretly that the king was displeased and angry with everything at the moment, and Charles soon got an impression of it.
The hadn't seen each other for the previous weeks, not since the day Charles had had to tell him that Margaret was dead and Henry had glared at him for some painful moments and then stormed out of the chamber, pushing him aside and snapping that Charles had never told him that she was sick. And so the duke felt quite nervous when Henry finally entered the council chamber with long, determined steps, a frown on his face which clearly indicated that trouble was brewing. Yet the king didn't even look at him, but took place at the opposite site of the table.
"My lords..." Henry slowly began, rubbing his forehead and not even trying to hide his disdain. "Every day I'm forced to read new reports of dissatisfaction, confusion and delays throughout my kingdom. My exchequer is empty and we are borrowing money at a biting rate!" The cool, bluish green eye travelled along the row of people in front of him, examining each of them and Charles wasn't actually surprised that the king's gaze finally fell on him and Norfolk.
"Your Graces are presidents of this council. And yet I hear nothing from you on these matters, nor any other matter!"
Charles quickly glanced at Norfolk, but the other duke didn't seem eager to answer to Henry's accusation. So with a soft sigh, he began, "Your Majesty must forgive me, I…"
But he never got any further, since Henry interrupted him unceremoniously. "Yes, yes, I know I must forgive you, I must always forgive you." And then, all of a sudden, he jumped up from his chair, slammed his hands onto the table and leaned forward menacingly, making Charles flinch.
"But I grow tired of forgiving you! I have given you everything, including the right to call yourself prince! And what do I get in return?"
It was dead silent after Henry's outburst and Charles felt himself unable to hold his friend's gaze. The uneasy feeling in his stomach he had felt since he had arrived at court was now like a hot, painful lump, but fortunately Henry chose to direct his attention and his anger at the rest of the council members as well.
"I used to think the cardinal vain, self-serving and greedy, just as you told me! But now I understand the burden he carried... uncomplainingly!"
"Your Majesty should not forget that he also stole from you," Norfolk said in a calming tone, "and he served the interests of the French, even above those of England."
Henry stared at him for a moment and Charles couldn't help but think of a lion who prepared to leap forward. Then the king gazed over at Sir Thomas More. "Is that what you think, Thomas?"
"It is certainly true that the cardinal was vain glorious beyond measure," the addressed answered as objectively as it was possible. "It did him tremendous harm, and made him abuse the considerable gifts god gave him."
"And yet," Henry said sharply and straightened, "he was a better man than any of you for managing this kingdom's matters!"
No one answered to this and for a moment, Charles felt the gaze of the pale bluish green eyes again, burning hot on his face, before Henry turned and without any further word headed for the exit. The council rose from their chairs in deference, but he didn't turn to look back.
"I will talk to him," Norfolk muttered at his side.
"Yes, you must," Charles replied thoughtfully, adding in his head, and so do I. But it was not the disgraced cardinal he wanted to speak about. The entire conspiracy had been Norfolk's plotting after all, and Charles had played the role in his downfall he had agreed to. So worrying about a possible and in his opinion very unlikely return of the cardinal was also Norfolk's business as well.
Besides, if things went bad, he wouldn't have to worry about the cardinal and his possible revenge anyway, since he'd find himself faster in the Tower than he could even think.
He got a private audience with Henry the same day in the evening and as usual, his friend received him in his study, standing at the window and staring pensively outside when Charles entered. The last days had been bright and hot but in the afternoon, dark clouds had arrived and now it was pouring, the rain running down the windows in little streams and gathering in the courtyard in deep puddles. It reminded Charles involuntary of their last night together during the thunderstorm, the same night when Margaret had coughed out her final breath on the kitchen floor in Westhorpe Hall.
"Your Majesty..."
"Your Grace." Henry's voice sounded quite indifferent and as he still didn't turn, Charles couldn't see the look on his face. "You wanted to see me."
"Yes, Majesty."
"And where does this sudden need come from," Henry asked, his voice still low but with a dangerous tension in it, "since you obviously didn't bother for the last two months?"
He finally turned, arms crossed in front of his chest, and scrutinized Charles. "I would like to know that very much."
Charles swallowed hard, asking himself how he should ever do this with Henry being so irritated and angry even before he had told him what he was here for.
"After the funeral I didn't feel much like court life and I had a lot to think about, Majesty. Besides, I thought you were angry with me and wouldn't like having me around anyway."
"Of course I would have liked you around!" Henry exclaimed, throwing his arms into the air. "You're my best friend and you're not the only one who lost her, goddamn! But you just left court without even saying goodbye and chose to hide away in Suffolk, leaving me here with the mess that is my kingdom!" And as Charles opened his mouth to speak, he cut in, "And now don't tell me again that you're sorry. I meant what said today in council, I'm sick and tired of hearing it while you still refuse to feel responsible for anything." His fist randomly hit the side of a shelf with a low thud as he rounded the table, slowly approaching Charles. "By God, you can't imagine how much I wish now I had moved heaven and earth for a second time to get an annulment of your marriage then. She would have been at court then and maybe my doctors could have helped her, maybe..."
"I know," Charles whispered, the lump from his stomach now seeming to stuck in his throat. "She would have lived, if not for me. If not for us, to be exact."
"What?" Henry slowly raised his head, a dangerous gleam in his eyes. "What do I have to do with that?"
"Isn't that quite obvious?" Charles replied softly. "The one woman who is both most precious to you and to me dies all of a sudden, in the bloom of her life... don't you think it is a sign, Majesty? A warning or maybe also a punishment for our sins?" And as Henry only stared at him, his features unmoving, he continued. "You said I'd never take responsibility for anything and you have been right. But Majesty, I promise, I can change and I will change. And as a first step, so you know this is no empty promise as I made so many of them before..." he took a deep breath, closing his eyes for only a moment, hating his next words even before he spoke them, "I want to end it, Henry."
There was utter silence for a moment, except for the pattering of the rain against the window glass. Henry still showed no sign of any emotion and just looked at him before he asked in a flat voice, "End what?"
"You know what. Laying together like a man should only with a woman due to Christian Law..." Charles shook his head, wondering when he had begun to sound like a damn priest himself. "It would be better for both our sakes..."
"For my sake?" Henry laughed but it was an utterly humourless sound. "Since when do you know what's best for the King of England, I wonder? And talking about that, how the fuck do you think you have the right to dump him?"
"Majesty, please, I..." Charles tried to explain, but again, Henry interrupted him brutally, grabbing the front of his tunic and yelling at him in utter fury for the second time on this day.
"You dare leaving me here for two entire months just to come back and tell me this? Who the hell do you think you are, Brandon? You were a fucking nobody whom I gave everything and this is my reward for it, 'I want to end it'?" Bristling with anger, he pushed him away, pacing through his study with large, angry steps. "In case you've forgotten, I'm not one of your bitches you can fuck and drop to your liking, I'm the fucking King of England! And if it pleases me, I can just command you to come to my bed! "
"Will you at least give me the chance to explain myself?" Charles asked as calmly as possible, though he heard his own voice shaking badly. "Henry, I pray you..."
"I'm not sure if I want to hear anything more of you right now," Henry hissed, his face turned away from him, fists clenched, "but very well then. Explain."
Taking another deep breath, Charles tried to brace himself, his eyes fixed on the lean, dark silhouette in front of the window when he softly began to speak, "I'm afraid, Henry. It's been three years now, three years we indulged in terrible sin without any honest thought of repentance or guilt. In those three years we both lost Margaret and the sweating sickness befell the entire country, taking away our dear friend William, as well as your only son. Who will be next, I wonder? My son? Or maybe Anne, your future wife? Your future heirs? Are our sins really worth such a price? "
Charles paused but Henry didn't answer and only stared out of the window without any movement or sound, and acting out of an impulse Charles slowly approached him and then went down to his knees at his feet, gently reaching for Henry's hand and placing a kiss on the knuckles which showed all white since his friend was still clenching his fist so hard. Charles half expected to be dealt a blow, but Henry only looked down at him with an unreadable expression.
"Henry..." Charles whispered, Henry's hand still at his lips and never breaking the eye contact between them, not even to blink. "I want you to know that I still desire you with all my heart, so much that it even pains me to speak these words. Know that I still devote myself only to you, my lord and my king, and that I love you as much as ever a true friend did. Never, for my life, I would not wish to hurt you or let you down, but it is because I love you too much and I don't want more harm to come to you, that I must ask you for this..." He had to clear his throat to continue since he could hear by the sound of it that it became unsteady and shaky. "Please, Henry, let me go. You have Anne and you can have many others to fill that place while I will always remain your most faithful servant and loving friend..."
Charles had to stop because he feared that his voice would break if he said more, besides, he didn't even knew what to say more. He felt empty and worn out, hating himself for everything that he had said and even hating himself more for the fact that it was only one part of the truth. Yes, he was scared that all the deaths were the punishment for their continued sinning, but one tiny part of him was also scared of their forbidden relationship itself, or rather the way he felt himself dragged down into a deep and devouring maelstrom of conflicting emotions, between pain and pleasure, fear and love, revolt and devotion...
A gentle hand touched his cheek, yet he almost flinched since the touch came too unexpectedly. The thumb traced his cheekbone caressingly, before Henry pulled his hand back and beckoned him to rise. The angry flare in his eyes had ceased but it was hard to interpret the look on his face as he slowly nodded.
"Have it as you wish then."
"Majesty," Charles whispered, bowing deeply before he turned and headed for the door, knowing without having to be told that Henry probably wanted to be by himself now. The more he was surprised when a gentle voice called him back.
"Charles..."
"Majesty?"
Henry stood still were he had left him, his arms wrapped around his own body, which made him seem younger and somehow looking lost. If his own words hadn't done the trick before, the sight alone would have been enough to break Charles' heart. Henry opened his mouth, but then he hesitated, shaking his head and turning back to face the window.
"Nothing."
For a few moments Charles still waited, wondering if Henry might change his mind and feeling unable to just leave him, but as his friend didn't move, he quietly left, closing the door behind him and slowly walking away. His body felt numb and not like his own, as if every feeling had been drained out of it, leaving nothing more but an empty shell. But if life at court had taught him one thing, then it was to mask his own feelings, to put up a daily façade for everyone to see how happy and pleased with himself and the world he was.
The tears only came much, much later that night.
It was shortly after noon when Catherine decided she badly needed some time for herself and a little distraction. Henry was taking his afternoon nap, after having been weepy and fretful the entire morning. But she couldn't blame him, after all, it had been quite a shock for the young boy to learn that his mother would never come back to him again. It had taken weeks to make him smile again, and now that his father had left for the royal court some days ago, Henry feared that he would also leave him and never come back. Of course Catherine had assured him that Charles would return in due time, but to see the usually so bright child all terrified of being left alone hurt nevertheless.
Going through the books of the study, she had picked out Roman de la Rose and had just sat down at the desk next to the window when she heard a familiar, deep voice behind her.
"Catherine..."
Taken aback, she hurried to rise from her chair, curtsying respectfully. She hadn't known that the duke was already back from court, but there he stood, slightly leaning against a book shelf with that pensive look on his handsome features he had worn for the last few weeks.
"Your Grace."
He smiled at her friendly, though the smile didn't reach his eyes. Catherine was wondering what he could possibly want from her, after all, he had been quite uncommunicative for those last weeks, only saying the most necessary things with his thoughts obviously revolving around something entirely different. When she looked at him questioningly, he picked up a book from the shelf, idly skimming through the pages, as if he had to keep his hands busy.
"As my ward, I have the legal duty to look after you," he finally began matter-of-factly. "Your parents are dead... and I have decided to marry you."
Catherine thought she must have misheard, but he already continued speaking before she had the chance to say anything, "You'll become a duchess and you'll have much power for someone so young. I think you are already an intelligent young woman..."
"I..." she tried again to say something, but again, he didn't give her the chance.
"You don't need to say anything. I am making you a great woman. You will look after my young son and when we have children, the king will be their godfather."
Catherine felt as if someone had pulled the rug from under her when she stared at the duke who still smiled at her, but somehow she felt the urge to take a step back. Charles Brandon had always been friendly and had sometimes bantered with her, but he was away from his estates so often that he was still somehow a stranger for her. Of course she had sometimes felt flattered by his charming nature, but as soon as she had realized that it utterly annoyed Margaret, she had tried to stay away from him for peace's sake. And most definitely, she had never imagined to marry him one day, didn't even know if she wanted to. But obviously, her opinion was not of any importance in this matter.
Catherine was still only staring at him when he walked over towards her, lightly placing a hand on her shoulder and she noticed absent-mindedly that he looked a little worn out, as if he hadn't slept enough the last few days. "I hope to make you very happy..." he declared in a serious voice, "but inevitably, I'll also make you sad."
While she still tried to figure out what that was supposed to mean, he had already leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss on her forehead. He gave her a smile that was somewhere between kind and guilty und when she still didn't know what to say or if she was supposed to say anything at all, he just turned and walked out of the study, leaving behind a confused Catherine who could make no sense at all of this. So this was a proposal from Charles Brandon, Duke of Suffolk and infamous for his charm that made all the ladies' knees at court turn weak? He could have told her in the same tone that he wanted her to look after Henry for a few days.
With a sigh, Catherine let herself sink back into the chair, wondering why she didn't feel angry, just scared and confused. Of course, he was right, it was a great opportunity for her, an orphan girl without any acquaintances or connections. The duke was a really handsome young man, powerful as well and of course he needed a new wife and someone to look after his son. Catherine loved Henry, so who would have been more suitable than her? Many other noble women would have envied her, and she knew she couldn't expect her marriage to be a romantic love match, still...
Catherine sighed. No matter how hard she tried to convince herself, she couldn't forget the hint of a hidden sadness in his grey eyes that he had tried to hide behind the smiling face. The thought sent a creeping feeling of unease through her body, for she knew well, no matter how beneficial a marriage was for both of them, she would still be a substitute.
Only that she didn't know for what exactly.
Thick white mist lay over the fields and crept through the wood, sucking in every sound and shielding them from the world's eyes as they finally slowed their horses down, leading them deep into the forest. They didn't even look at each other, didn't speak, it was unnecessary. They had waited too long and they both knew it, yet now that Anne was about to give Henry what he had so long desired from her, suddenly a shadow of doubt came over her mind. After all, their marriage seemed to be farther away than ever, but on the other hand, Wolsey was finally out of the way and dead, her charge done. After years of waiting and delaying, shouldn't she for once be able to follow her own desire? And even if she wanted to withdraw her offer now – which she didn't – she wasn't sure if Henry, despite of his affection for her, would have accepted it. The fierce determination in his pale eyes which pierced hers for a moment, the barely restrained impatience in all of his movements when he wordlessly reined his horse and dismounted, told her otherwise. Yet she tried not to let her doubts and the sudden feeling of insecurity be shown on her face. Instead, she replied his gaze self-confidently and followed him a little deeper into the woods, carelessly throwing her feather head and the black riding gloves aside as he did with his fur coat. And then there was no time to think anymore, just his lips claiming hers in a fervent kiss, his hands running impatiently under the cloth of her riding dress and she clutched at him with matching eagerness, her back pressed against the chapped bark of a tress but she didn't even realized it.
Finally, finally…
"I want you…." he whispered huskily, but all Anne did was pull him into their passionate kiss again. They were all over each other in no time, didn't even take the time to undress each other properly. It was ridiculous that they had waited so long and now couldn't spend a few more minutes, but it seemed like all anger and all frustration of the previous weeks, months, years seemed to overwhelm into blinding passion now. Their bodies melted into each other as if they were made for it, the fierce sensations making them both moan and cry out in pleasure. A sudden rush of power which only added to the carnal pleasure overwhelmed Anne as she was sitting on him, riding him fiercely and for a fleeting moment the sheer thought that this man, the King of England, belonged to her and to her alone, almost made her laugh out loud breathlessly. But in that moment Henry grabbed her hips and turned their positions, pushing her onto her back and the thought was swept away by a wave of sheer, red-hot lust. Her own moans echoed in her ears as she felt the familiar tension building up inside her and her hips were meeting each of his thrusts on their own accord.
"I'm going to come…" she heard Henry moaning into her ear, and it was these words that brought her from the heights of pleasure suddenly back to reality, like an icy gush of water.
"No! You mustn't!"
And with all force she could bring up she desperately pushed against Henry's chest, the only thought racing in her mind that he couldn't come in her, not yet, not before she was still only his mistress and not his legal wife… And she didn't know if it was due to Henry's surprise or the desperate fierceness of her push but she felt his weight leaving her body, a strange feeling of relief and utter disappointment rushing through her entire body at the same time. Anne heard him panting and then crying out in utter frustration next to her, but she didn't dare to look at him now. Not now, when her own body was still shaking in a mix of arousal and the sudden realization slowly crept in how easily this could have turned into a catastrophe for all her plans. If she hadn't pushed him down or waited just a few moments longer, if she had conceived a bastard child…
Anne heard him jumping to his feet and storming off, again crying out his wrath into the silent, misty forest while she understood that this could easily turn out to be a catastrophe as well. Her father's words – maybe you could find a way to keep his interest more… prolonged? – were echoing mockingly in her ears and she fiercely ran a hand through her hair, panicking if this was it. She had given in to Henry's wish before she had achieved what she desired and now that she had made him angry, he might drop her like he had done with so many young women before. But he wouldn't, not with her…or would he?
"Come on! We're riding back," she heard him shouting from over the trees where they had left their horses. Anne hurried to get onto her feet, trying to rearrange her riding outfit as fast as it was possible and then returning back to the horses as well, picking up her feather hat and one of her riding gloves on the way. She couldn't find the other one, but since Henry had already mounted his horse, a scowling expression on his face, she decided better not to strain his patience anymore. Still, she stopped for a moment before she mounted her horse, looking up at him, opening her mouth to say something pacifying, but he raised his hand, bidding her silence before she managed to do so.
"You don't need to say anything," he growled but with an undertone that made her relax a little and she pulled herself back into the saddle as well. "It's not you, it's just…"
"It's just what?" she wanted to know, but Henry shook his head and she saw him closing his eyes for a moment. A small, bitter laugh came over his lips that Anne could not for the world make sense of.
"Nothing. It's… really nothing."
And before she had the chance to ask any further questions he had urged his horse to a slow trot and Anne had no other chance but to follow.
Can you lie next to her and give her your heart, your heart?
As well as your body, and can you lie next to her
And confess your love, your love?
As well as your folly, and can you kneel before the king
And say 'I'm clean', 'I'm clean'?
But tell me now where was my fault,
in loving you with my whole heart?
But tell me now where was my fault,
in loving you with my whole heart?
~Mumford & Sons - White Blank Page ~