I did not except to write this. This was an alternate universe version of a fan fiction I have planned and after writing the first chapter I fell more and more in love with the story and the relationship so I wrote this. I have at least one more short piece planned for it that I hope to write but we'll see. Two things:
I haven't posted the "real" fan fiction yet but I have written 7 and a half chapters that I hope to post soon and I will explain the changes between the two universes when I do.
Second: It is late (2 am) and so I haven't edited it but I will do so tomorrow I just wanted this up. Enjoy!
"How are the prawns?"
She looks up at the question, the candlelight threaded through the curls fallen over her shoulders and making them glitter with flecks like burnt gold.
"They are wonderful. Thank you."
She scrapes her fork across the plate for another and chews it quietly, her eyes focused on the delicate array of dishes. I smile faintly and sip deeply from my glass with the rich taste of wine thick on my tongue and making the edges of my mind blur.
"They are very rich."
She adds the words as if to fill in the silence, eyes briefly raised to meet mine before returning to where they settled on the bronzed bowl of fruit.
"They are in season. Shipped directly from the Coast."
I press lightly on the words, hoping that she will take note of them. Pathetically hoping that she will notice the extra care I make to her. To make her happy. To give her everything she wants and more.
"Is that not expensive?"
She asks in confusion, her eyes raised and her eyebrows carefully raised to cast faded shadows across her cheeks.
"A little."
I admit it with a smile I poorly hide and glance over at her as it imprints into her mind the tiny detail of care. Pressing your thumb into the skin of a flower petal and watching it reshape to accommodate it.
"Thank you, husband."
My small fades. There are no warmth to her words. No affection. No love. Just simple facts broken between the kindness that never leaves her voice.
"Your welcome, wife."
She smiles in response and turns back to her plate, turning over a slice of apple with her fork.
"How is the King today?"
She asks with a trace of concern to outline her words, the candlelight now settled into her eyes to bronze them.
"He is ... broken. The loss of his much beloved wife has left him utterly shattered."
A grief I tried hard not to recognize surfaces beneath my words to ice them cold and I grip my fingers on the frame of my fork and knife, Jane's silent face and empty eyes still pressed through the back of my thoughts with an intensity that burned brighter when I tried not to think of it.
"He loved her."
She says it quietly. A fact with a warmth to comfort it. She loved Jane. She loved her as a friend, as a sister and he knew that Jane had loved her in return. She was good at loving. Just not me.
"I cannot imagine a worse Hell."
The works broke over my lips like chipping away at bone and she raised her eyes to mine, catching the raw break in my voice as if I were crumbling apart from the inside.
"Have you heard from our son, George?"
I clear my throat, the sting of the words still on my tongue and sip deeply from the glass with the burn reawakening my thoughts.
"I have. He sent a letter. He is now fluent in Latin as well as English and hopes that his tutor allows him to study French and Spanish next. He speaks of Jane and Catherine who are also improving in their studies and that they are spending more and more of their time outdoors as the weather allows."
There is a tenderness in her voice, a warmth and a longing briefly seems to paralyze her as she stares down at her plate, the reflection illuminating the crystallized edges of her tears that she will keep frozen until she has retired and thinks that I can no longer hear her.
"Perhaps soon I may send for them. And they may spend a day or two with us here at court."
She raises her eyes at the suggestion, a tear drop frozen on her eyelashes and holding them together. I dig my fingernails in my palm to keep from brushing it away as it falls and traces wetly down her cheek.
"I would very much like that."
I smile at the warmth in her voice though I know it is not directed towards me but hold at it anyways like the sparks it ignites in my chest doesn't burn over my skin.
"And what did you do to occupy yourself today?"
I run my fork over the edge of my knife with the sliver of light it causes to cut across my vision in a sudden blind.
"I went for a walk down by the fountain with Anne."
I nod, the casual mention of her servant by name one I was too used to now to be fazed by. She knew all their names. Their last names and where they were from, who their families were and minor details to their life that fleshed them out in such a way that she cared for each and every one individually and a whole.
"And then Charles Brandon came by."
I froze, the name gentle on her lips cold in the air and cutting through my thoughts with a hatred and burn of jealousy that for a moment blinded me.
"Did he now?"
I say the words carefully, concealing the sudden surge of anger in my voice and clenching the metal of the cutlery so it cut into my palms.
"Yes, I told him I would teach him how to play the harpsichord. He has a great desire to learn."
I nod, biting the inside of my lips with the bitter taste of blood broken on my tongue.
"And what if I would like to learn?"
The anger clips itself into my voice and sharpens it so her eyes darken at the corners in recognition of it.
"If you wish."
The kindness usually present in her voice fades to a near dullness as if she herself is angry at my anger, my jealousy. Takes note of it and challenges it with the undercurrent of strength always beneath her words and actions. The strength that went almost unnoticed, too subtle with the way she made eye contact with those higher and more powerful than her, hardened her words when she became angry with enough to hide it so they remained uncertain to whether or not she was challenging them. It made shivers run under his skin, press through his blood and every part of him ache with a love that he couldn't further take note of as if it went beyond what a mortal man could bear.
"And how is the baby?"
I softened my voice again, clearing my throat against the remaining burn of jealousy and anger still frozen on my tongue.
"He was restless today."
She smiled fondly at the words and lowered her eyes to her swollen stomach, the press of it almost against the table with the curve over the decorative fabric stretched widely. She placed a hand on the swell with her thumb creasing over the gold and blue swirl.
"Was he? And now?"
She raised her eyes again to mine, her fingers still creased over her stomach in a bone deep protection that the look in her eyes only touched upon.
"He's kicking."
I nodded, running my finger along the edge of my knife with a question burned on my tongue and so heavy I felt that it could smother me.
"May I feel?"
The question hung heavily in the air like it was suspended in silk and tearing at the edges to fray it and let it fall.
"You may."
I pushed myself back from the table, the screen of the legs loud against the wooden panels and the table cloth creased and softened in my palm. I walked over to where she sat, my steps making the catch of the firelight shatter through her curls and along the curve of her neck. My heart bit into my chest and she pulled herself away from the table's edge, her skirts rustled lowly and the legs of the chair softer to the wood. I carefully knelt next to her, my knee pressed to her hem and I shuffled back off of it. She took my hand and gently raised it to my stomach, skimming it across the swollen curve of it. My heart was racing in my chest and in my head; everything at the edges of my vision sparked with firelight and like the world around me was tensed to shatter. She froze my hand, her finger gently laced over mine and holding it there.
"There."
She barely whispered the word and I waited, tensed with my heart beginning to ache and hurt in my chest. Something pressed back against my palm, a movement or a kick that held against my hand with a delicate assurance run with a much more terrifying strength. A short laugh broke through my lips, the feel of my son strong and sudden beneath my fingers.
"Can you feel him?"
She asked the words tenderly, lit coals in my hands that teased to burn and yet held warm against my skin and buried deep into my chest. I nodded and gently laid my head to her stomach where I could feel the kick, the press of it still alive and strong against my cheek. She removed her fingers from mine and instead gently laid them on the back of my neck with the tips lightly entwined in my hair. I closed my eyes and she traced her fingers over my nape, the fine hairs curled there raised and tensed with the sense and alert of the intimacy of the moment. My son. Our son. My wife.
"My Lord ...?"
The words broke through my like ice and I raised my head, opening my eyes and the ice the words brought frozen inside me with a pressure that nearly broke me apart.
"What?"
The servant faltered at the doorway under the anger in my tone and Charlotte splayed her fingers along the curve of my neck in attempted calm.
"Yes, Henry?"
His eyes fell onto her, his fear softened under the kindness of her voice.
"My Lord Privy Seal is here to see you My Lady."
Her fingers fell from my neck, everything in her suddenly sparked alive with the glow still tensed and held to her skin. She stood in a flurry of skirts and quickly stepped to the door, the unmistaken shade of blush traced up in her neck and a smile cut to her lips. I also stood, my fingers dug into the decorative armrest of her chair and a hatred I held bearable inside me in a sudden rage and ferocity that bordered on madness. I walked over to the doorway, the servant –Henry – bowing quickly and turning away from me in near panicked steps. Lace curtains hung over the doorway and through them I saw the Lord Privy Seal raise her hand to his lips and gently kiss it, her eyes suddenly crystallized with happiness. He let her hand fall and held out a folded slip of fabric to her with the shape of a piece of jewellery hardened inside. She took it from him and opened it, the firelight catching off the jewels of it and glittering it in her hands. She smiled up at him, the words "thank you" visible on her lips but inaudible to my ears. He also smiled a rare sight for him and the look creased along his jaw and deeply set into his eyes with an affection I felt could rival my own. She tensed for a moment before glancing down at her stomach and asking him something that I couldn't read. He nodded and she took his hand and lightly pressed it to the curve of her stomach and held it there carefully. A catch ripped at my throat and I dug my fingers into my palm with the nails biting and broken into my skin and a hatred burned alive under my skin that I felt tip and burn me into the fall of madness.