Chapter 3

The rays of the sun shined into Charles' eyes as he tossed and turned in the white cotton sheets, all on his mind was Henry and the pain from the previous night.

'Maybe at the summit, he would be able to talk to me.' Charles got up slowly from his bed, groaning in agonizing pain, rubbing his butt temples as he moved toward the window still. His brown eyes wandered over to the luscious greenery of the trees and the garden. The garden...the garden of seclusion triggered a memory in Charles' mind as he sighed deeply.

The blooming of the yellow primroses, violets and lavender flowers graciously touched the fingertips of his hand as he tried to follow Henry in the distance. Breathing heavily and deeply he could even hear Henry's breathing becoming union with his own. Echoes of calling his name rang his ears

"Hurry up Charles!" Henry shouted in the distance as Charles tried to keep up Henry's pace. Charles suddenly stopped his tracks as he stared on Henry in awe. Henry stood there facing Charles, smiling as he took off his shirt. Seeing Henry's strapping upper body sculpted from his triceps to his abdomen, Charles licked his lips as he could almost taste the sweet sweat of Henry's pale skin.

"Charles! Charles!" Henry shouted telling him to come forward. Charles smiled as he felt his heartbeat increase; running and running; his limps moving forward as the image of Henry came closer and closer to his quench of desire.

After the humiliating wrestling match between Henry and Francis, Henry sat on the chair in his room wiping his sweat with the towel. He hated losing to anything, worse to his enemy Francis as he closed his eyes and sighed deeply as he tapped his fingers against his knee. He needed to something to ease this tension or restlessness. He threw down the cloth on the floor as he called out to one of the servants to send him a drink. Henry sighed deeply as his fingers went through his short dark red hair. Then he heard a knock on the door, it was a young woman with dark brown tresses flowing down to her waist line. There was something about her that intrigued Henry, maybe it was the way she carried herself in such French graces or maybe...her eyes....her eyes represented dark hooks for the soul, it would make any man want her, posses her and please her. Henry looked up towards the young woman with wide grey eyes staring with amazement.

"Who are you?" He said while rising from the chair. She curtsies in such a unique old French manner with her hands neatly clasped in front of her.

"Anne Boleyn." She replied softly. He closed his eyes as he heard her voice. It sounded so sweet and soft like a lullaby to his ears.

"Did you come here for my consent?" He enquired placing his arms behind him.

"No. I am here to present with this letter." The stimulus touch of their hands becoming one gave a sudden spark to Henry as she handed him the letter. He suddenly looked on her as he expected her give an answer to him about what is the content of the letter and who sent it. But she just stood there with her eyes intently staring on him.

"You may leave." Henry dictated as she curtsied then headed towards the door. "Wait!" Her feet became to a sudden halt as she sighed deeply awaiting for the king's instructions.

"I would want you to come to the English court as a lady in waiting for her majesty Queen Katherine."

Anne stared on him with eagerness and content with her hands neatly clasped in front of her.

"I'll give you an answer in three days before you leave. Your majesty" With a quick curtsy Anne opened the door to find the Duke of Suffolk standing in front of her. She looked on him then on Henry and smiled at Charles. However Charles scoffed at her expression then she gave a distasteful glare at him.

"Excuse me." She stormed off with her heels clapping against the wooden floor.

Charles shut the door behind him; he knew he was out of line for bringing himself forth in the king's presence. He looked down on his shoes then on Henry who was staring at him in return.

"Get out of my room." Henry commanded.

"Henry, you must forgive...." Charles pleaded as he went on his knees.

"I must always forgive you but I am tired of forgiving you. I admit my feelings for you and you give me this! GET THE FUCK OUT!" Henry shouted crushing the letter in his hands without even looking on the content of the letter. Charles has never seen Henry this irritated before, he has seen him in his insane temper moments but he did not like what he was observing. To see Henry crush the letter in his hands brought a shattered feeling of heartbreak. Charles sighed deeply as he got up and brushed the dirt off his outfit.

"I am sorry...Henry." Charles muttered under his breath and then he slammed the door then he wiped the stream of waters from his eyes. Henry sighed deeply as he picked up the crushed letter in hands.

"My Beloved Henry,

I already love in you your beauty, but I am only beginning to love in you that which is eternal and ever precious - your heart, your soul. Beauty one could get to know and fall in love with in one hour and cease to love it as speedily but the soul one must learn to know. Believe me, nothing on earth is given without labour, even love, the most beautiful and natural of feelings. Please forgive me.

Your ever loving servant

Charles Brandon.

"What have I done?" Henry mumbled under his breath.

A/N: YES! Finally I have updated the chapter. Yes the long awaiting chapter is finally here. I am sorry for the long wait but I had exams and clubs at university. But I am back...It took me a good while to come up with an ending for this chapter. Now Anne is being requested to come to the English Court...what drama is she going to encounter with Henry and Charles? I am really happy for the reviews that I have received and gives me a drive to continue this story. I wrote this chapter really short but it would have meaning in later chapters of the story.

Disclaimer: The Tudors does not belong to me or the characters. Additionally the quote in the letter does not belong to me either. I took it from a website http://www./ where I just felt in love with it. It is by Leo Tolstoy to Valeria Arsenev.

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