Chapter summary: Henry and Charles set their plan in motion, but first they need to overcome a few obstacles...

Rating: M (for this chapter)

Broken And Mended

Chapter 2

The clock inside was ticking loudly. Charles could hear it even outside the door where he stood waiting for Henry's lessons to be over. He was used to standing here, he had done it almost every day since he had first come into Henry's household as a small boy, waiting for him so they could go and play. But time seemed to be stretching as slowly as too thick honey on a spoon today and he blew out air between his lips, tapping his foot. He was a little nervous he had to admit but he willed himself to be calm and nonchalantly stuffed his hands into his pockets, leaning against the wall. Everything had gone as planned so far, there was nothing to be nervous about. He had even laughed at Henry's edgy excitement this morning and chuckled at the memory.

"Not that one!" Henry said with a displeased frown, standing in his underwear in his bed-chamber and perusing the choice of clothing the Yeoman of the Wardrobe had brought him. Charles saw the man hide his annoyance with the prince's choosiness behind a strained smile. "Perhaps this one, Your Grace?" he said, pointing to a red-and-gold velvet hose and doublet in puzzled desperation. Henry had rejected three pieces of clothing already and had made him fetch more from downstairs when he normally barely even looked at what he was wearing and the yeomen just couldn't understand what was so different this morning. Neither could the confused grooms and esquires standing around who were supposed to dress him once he had made his choice. Surely the prince wasn't that picky because he wanted to look his best in front of his grandmother? Henry looked at the red-and-gold clothing, then threw Charles a helpless look. What would Jane like?, his eyes seemed to say and Charles took pity on the poor yeomen and leaned forward and whispered into Henry's ear, just low enough that the others wouldn't hear "Just wear something that's easy to remove later."
Henry jerked back from him, blushing furiously and shot him an indignant look. Charles had to fight hard to suppress the laugh bubbling up inside him, while the other servants pretended not to have seen the prince's embarrassment and as usual also hid their annoyance that he was confiding in Charles instead of them, even though they were higher ranking.
"That green one!" Henry finally barked, still red in the face and this time a little snort did escape Charles's lips, because the green one was indeed the garment most easily removed among all of the clothes. After that Henry was quickly dressed to the relief of everyone and Charles and most of his household accompanied him to the Great Hall, where the king's and princess Mary's household were gathered already to see Lady Margaret Beaufort, Henry's grandmother off, before she left to inspect the Grammar School she had founded in Dorset. Sometimes that woman's bookishness had good sides, Charles thought wryly.
The king put great stock in privacy so while the royal family said their farewell, the servants stood in respectful distance, present to honour his mother but too far away to overhear any of their talk. Charles quickly positioned himself to stand beside the girls of princess Mary's household and managed to get the place right beside Jane. She looked at him coquettishly, having expected him to seek her out.
"Master Brandon," she whispered in her alluring French accent, a small smile playing on her lips. She was a very attractive girl, with a perfect rosebud mouth and fascinating dark eyes and hair, a maid-of-honour to the princess... though not actually so much a maid any more as Charles knew intimately. Not that Henry needed to know that. He had a feeling he wouldn't like it that Charles had had her before him. She had come to the English court to teach the princess Mary French but instead of learning that language from her the princess had succeeded in quickly teaching her English. Jane brushed his hand surreptitiously and he shuddered lustily as she whispered. "Meet me in the laundry house later?"
Charles was stupid with desire for a moment and almost replied with a quick 'yes' before he remembered he had promised Henry to arrange a meeting with her. He groaned at the realisation that he would not get to enjoy her charms today even though certain parts of his body had already taken a lively interest in her. Colour rising to his face, he shifted his livery clothing a little to hide it and took a deep, calming breath. Jane's lips curled in a knowing little smile, yet when he moved his head closer to her again and whispered, "No, but my master wants to meet you." she raised her eyebrows in surprise, a silent question in her eyes. Charles gave a slight nod and her gaze searched out the prince standing with his family and appraised him for a good long while as if she had not seen him up close before. She knew what he looked like well enough, because whenever Henry spent time with his sister to play cards or dance with her, Jane was with her young mistress. Since Charles, like her, was with Henry almost all of these times he had seen the furtively appreciative looks Henry always cast her way. Perhaps she had seen them too, in any case she seemed to like what she saw. Without looking at him again, she nodded her pretty head and whispered "Bien. Five of the clock, our usual place."

It was half past four now but Henry still wasn't done with his lessons! The waiting was starting to make Charles quite edgy and he sighed loudly into the quiet hall, scuffing his heel over the polished wooden floor. Henry should have been done with his lessons already but he sometimes spent ages in there not because he had to but because he wanted to. He actually seemed to like all that Latin stuff and prose and whatnot he had to learn. But surely today he would have other things in mind and it was his tutor who kept him up!
Charles started when the door was suddenly ripped open and Henry's tutor Master Hone appeared, looking a little disgruntled. As usual his eyes swept over Charles without comment or greeting, as he seemed to be part of the furniture or tapestries to the often distracted, little man, instead he turned to Henry who had followed him out with a fake innocent expression on his face.
"My lord prince," he said, in his tremulous voice, yet with a hint of admonishment in it. "I do hope your walk in the gardens will do Your Grace good indeed and you will be able to concentrate better tomorrow." With these words he bowed to his pupil and left, carrying a stack of books under his arm. Henry's eyes found Charles's and he grinned, suppressing a laugh until Master Hone was out of earshot.
"He just couldn't understand why I didn't want to finish reading his new Latin translation," he snorted, when Master Hone had safely rounded the corner. "I had to fake a headache."
He shoved his own books into Charles's hands as he always did and laughed a little, yet it was nervous laughter and his eyes strayed up and down the corridor fearful anyone would come.
Charles grinned. "Don't worry, no one is here. And you are just in time." Henry nodded jerkily and wiped his sweaty hands on his clothes. "Shall we go right now then?" he said in a low voice
Charles nodded and winked. "Let's take some air to cure your headache."
They went down the corridor that led into the palace's garden, Henry eagerly leading the way, but they had barely rounded the corner from the schoolroom when a sudden voice from behind called.
"Master Brandon!"
Charles turned in a panic to see the king of all people round the corner. Of course he sometimes came to the schoolroom to talk to Master Hone or to Henry about his studying progress... but did he have to choose today of all days for that? Charles helplessly turned his head to look at Henry, but suddenly Henry was gone! Instead the tapestry on his left was swinging a little and the tip of a shoe looked out underneath.
The king laboriously walked up to him, his emaciated face showing a frown and Charles, his heart pounding furiously, bowed to him hastily.
"Your Majesty," he said.
"Is the prince done with his lessons already?" The king came closer and raised questioning eyebrows at him and the books in his hands.
Charles swallowed a lump in his throat and stammered out: "Y... yes, Your Majesty." He was going to see Henry's foot at any moment! He had to force himself not to stare at the shoe and alert his attention to it.
The king frowned even deeper. "Then where is he? I did not see him on my way here."
Sweat broke out on Charles's forehead as the king now stood dangerously close to the place where Henry was hiding, almost brushing the tapestry, that was bulging a little. Henry was slight but not quite slight enough. If the king moved his head just a little bit he would see it.
"He... he said he had a headache and went for a walk in the gardens," he lied in a rush, hoping to God the king wouldn't notice the shoe right next to his own foot.
"A headache!" the king exclaimed, concern in his voice and to Charles's immense relief immediately walked over to the window on the other side of the corridor to look down into the gardens to spy his sick son. Who was of course not there but a mere three arms length from him away and entirely free of life-threatening headaches. Charles used the chance to step in front of Henry's hiding place and the traitorous shoe just before the king turned around again.
"I don't see him. Did he go alone?"
"I think so, Your Majesty," Charles replied, thankful for the fact that he wasn't supposed to look the king in the eye and so had an excuse to keep his eyes lowered while he lied him right in the face. "And it was just a little headache from reading too much, nothing serious," he added. Knowing the king he would call for a physician in a heartbeat otherwise.
The king coughed a little in displeasure. "Well if that is so, go and tell him I want to speak with him when he returns."
"Yes, Your Majesty." Charles replied and bowed, then shuffled on the spot. The king looked at him, expecting him to run and obey him immediately but Charles remained standing there. If he moved now the king would surely notice Henry behind the tapestry.
"What are you waiting for, boy?" the king asked.
Charles swallowed. "I...beg Your Majesty's pardon but the prince said not to disturb him." It was the first thing that came to his mind and he could virtually hear Henry groaning behind the tapestry, because that sounded a bit suspicious even to himself. The king remained silent for what seemed like an eternity, perusing him sternly and the books almost fell from Charles's slippery hands as he started sweating even more. He always had the feeling the king could see his innermost thoughts. He was going to see through him any second now and discover Henry. Then Henry would probably be locked up for a week and he'd get a whipping for lying to the king.
"What's wrong with you, boy? You look a little pale and sick," the king said suddenly and raised a cold hand to Charles's chin to look at him more closely.
"Umm..." was all Charles could say to that as the king inspected his face for signs of sickness.
"Mayhaps you sh-"
"Your Majesty!"
They turned to see the king's groom Hugh Denys round the corner. "Your Majesty, your treasurer has arrived now and is waiting for his audience."
The king let go of Charles, who felt his knees weaken in relief. "Oh well, then I will have to talk to him without the prince, it seems." He turned to Charles. "Go and lie down, boy, you don't look well."
With that he quickly left, Hugh Denys in tow and as soon as they had rounded the corner, Charles allowed himself the shaky breath of relief that had wanted to escape him and sagged against the bulge in the tapestry, which muttered. "Whew, if that wasn't a double escape! As if I want to be present while he and the treasurer go over the account books and count sacks of gold coins..."

When they were sure they were safely alone and no one would come they quickly ran down to the gardens and disappeared among the rows of thick hedges and flowerbeds, laughing in relief. Luckily there was a way to the laundry house from the edge of the gardens, otherwise they would have had to take the way over the moat where anyone could have seen them from the windows of the palace. Charles led the way and they slipped into the laundry house through the back-door which he and Jane knew had a loose latch. Inside it was dark, and it smelled of soap and wet, mouldy air even though it had been a week since the last laundry day. Without people in it the bare and empty laundry house with it's soap stains on the floor and the big wooden vats and washing boards standing around, looked like a place long abandoned. Perfect for a what they were here for.
Henry stopped and looked around and Charles realized he had never been inside here. He seemed to be a little put off by the surroundings, careful not to brush his velvet clothes on the dirty walls.
"Come on, it's not like that upstairs."
He pulled the increasingly reluctant looking prince up the creaking stairs, not bothering to be especially quiet now because it didn't matter that much any more. There was a giant room for drying clothes up on the first floor, clotheslines stretching from one end to the other in case it was raining outside, but they crossed the room quickly and went up even more stairs to the last floor, right under the roof. Dust danced there in the pale light that fell in from the slanted windows and illuminated a number of small storerooms. Some of them had pallets to sleep on for those hired hands who could not make it back home at the end of a laundry day or who stayed for more than one day.
"Here?" Henry asked reluctantly, shooting a questioning look at him, quite obviously not thrilled with his surroundings.
Charles rolled his eyes. "Do you want to meet her or not? You can't very well do so anywhere else, unless you fancy a meeting behind a tapestry."
Henry was about to reply something, when a sudden creaking sound made them both flinch. They whirled around, thinking someone had discovered them and saw a door opening slightly and someone cautiously looked out. Charles smiled in relief, because it was Jane. Her face lit up too at the sight of them and a mischievous glint appeared in her eyes and she gestured them closer.
Henry suddenly hesitated, and Charles found himself virtually pushing a very uncharacteristically shy Henry towards her.
"Uhh, hello," he said to her, like some bumbling idiot.
"Hello, Your Grace," she replied, looking him up and down and then she leaned forward and kissed him on the mouth. She had learned quickly that that was quite a normal greeting here in England even between strangers. Charles could see that she had done it to tease him however and Henry blushed furiously, his mouth opened slightly and he stared at her as if she was a unicorn stepped out of a glade to rest it's head in his virginal lap.
Charles almost snickered out loud at that thought then she went to her toes to kiss him too and he was distracted by the familiar pleasant scent of lavender on her, something he already associated with their secret trysts. Immediately he felt his loins stir just like this morning. He was used to this part of his body doing whatever it liked no matter where he was or what he was doing, but he didn't want Henry to see, so he announced hastily "Umm, I'll stand watch outside."
His eyes met Henry's and for a second he saw a flash of panic there, that was virtually begging him not to leave him alone with Jane.
"But-" Henry blurted helplessly, looking entirely awkward, then with a smirk Jane took his hand and pulled him inside, closing the door.
Charles laughed quietly and stepped a little back from the door, willing his own excitement to abate. From inside the room he heard Jane's soft voice speaking soothingly, then Henry's deeper unsure voice and even though he could not make out words after a while he started feeling a little uncomfortable to listen to them... He thought about leaving, but his feet wouldn't move him farther than to the window.
Down in the gardens he saw princess Mary and her attendants playing hide and seek. Their giggling drifted up to him and mingled with the voices from behind the door and he stood and watched for some time, tapping his fingers on the windowsill in boredom. After a while the voices behind the door stopped. It was completely quiet for a long moment then a sudden surprised male moan could be heard. Charles bit his lip to prevent a laugh, then realized they wouldn't hear him anyway and let it out. Jane really wasn't one to beat around the bush for long. She hadn't come here to talk. And they had to be quick in any case, before someone came to look for either of them.
It was silent again after that and he wondered what they were doing now. Probably kissing. Had she just kissed him French style, like she had done with him the first time he had met her here or had Henry perhaps finally found some of his usual courage and initiated it? He couldn't know, but suddenly more and louder moans followed, both male and female and they were very hard not to hear.
Charles's eyes glazed over at the familiar sound of Jane moaning, his mind immediately providing him with the accompanying picture. He saw her beautiful eyes flutter in pleasure and could almost taste her mouth and feel her soft curves under his hands as if he were the one inside there with her now. She had shown him some truly exciting things and just the thought of them was enough to keep him aroused. Damn, he wanted to be inside there with Jane now instead of Henry! Before he knew it his feet had carried him back to the door again in a desire to be closer and he pressed himself against the wooden frame, not really knowing what he was doing. Their sounds were much more audible this way and involuntarily he found himself straining to hear what was going on.
He swallowed when he could actually hear the sound of them kissing and his own excitement rocketed even more. There was the rustling of clothes and shuffling and a heartbeat afterwards he very clearly heard Henry gasp "Oh dear almighty above!" and he knew exactly what had just happened.
Despite his frustrated state he was amused by Henry's wondrous excitement. A little snicker that wanted to leave his throat was choked however when right after that an unmistakable rhythmic pounding suddenly rattled the wooden frame and Jane's oh so familiar wanton moans reached his ear again. He almost jumped, feeling somewhere between caught, aroused and embarrassed to be hearing this. But he couldn't force himself to go back to the window, instead he kept listened to it, his mind again providing him with the imagery. He knew them both intimately enough to know what they would be looking like right now and he closed his eyes, touching himself a little through his clothes. He just couldn't help it, he was 16, he always thought about this and he just couldn't resist the sounds from inside.
It didn't take long however until he heard a finishing cry from Henry and that ripped him out of his own desire enough to quickly return to the window. He didn't want to be caught listening to them. Charles could only hear the furious rush of his own blood in his ears, feeling absolutely flushed with desire and desperately trying to will it away while he waited for them to come out, but it was utterly quiet inside afterwards for a long time. When he finally heard a click he turned to see the door opening to reveal Henry, breathing heavily, a stunned look on his face.
Charles wondered if he had looked that stupid after his own first time.
The sight made him grin and he winked at him. Henry slowly smiled back, a little abashed and self-conscious but obviously happy and proud. Crossing the small room, Charles said "There's a lace loose on your shirt." for lack of anything else to say.
Henry looked down at himself and started nestling his laces back into place.
"We should probably leave separately," Charles told him. "After all I told the king you went alone."
"Hmm?" Henry looked up at him, a dreamy expression on his face. "Oh yes." His natural self-confidence seemed to have returned to him by now and he good-naturedly patted Charles's cheek, then left, a grin plastered on his face, that was entirely out of place for his pretence of having gone for a walk in the gardens because of a headache.
Charles for his part still had a bit of a problem in his pants. He looked inside the little room and his gaze met Jane's. She was leaning against the wall, her dress in disarray and he could clearly see that Henry had left her unsatisfied, her pupils were still blown dark with lust and her mouth was half open, a little frustrated frown on her face. She looked exactly how he felt and she knew it too as her eyes drifted down his body and saw the bulge there he didn't bother to hide from her.
"Have you been listening to us, you naughty boy?" she said with a smirk, crooking a finger at him. He didn't need any more invitation than that and without thinking he went over to her. She gave a breathy little moan, as he slowly lifted her dress up her hot leg, looking into his eyes hungrily and then he delightedly watched her gaze becoming clouded with pleasure as he boldly began fingering her secret parts. Sometimes he still couldn't believe she let him do all this. Besides her Charles had been with a number of laundry girls. Almost every time they came to help with the laundry he seized the opportunity, and he always felt an arrogant sort of pride that they let him do this for nothing, when he knew the kitchen boys had to pay for their favours with stolen meat and cheese from the larder. But none of them could compare to Jane. She was different and special to him, a cultured, refined lady who smelled of lavender and knew things none of the laundry girls would ever even dream of, and he had only been with her two times previously. Yesterday when he had offered her up to Henry without a second thought, he had actually surprised himself a little.
"Do you like that?", he asked, as he touched her teasingly.
"Mhmm…," she moaned in answer and Charles smiled self-satisfied and leaned in to nibble at her ear.
"Good," he whispered.
Still he couldn't help his next question.
"I know you like me," he breathed, drawing back to look at her, "but who is better… me or the prince?"
Jane opened her eyes, a knowing gleam flashing in them and teasingly pretended to contemplate the question.
"I don't know…" she said, hesitating playfully. "I think I need to compare some more before I can tell." Carding a hand through his hair and pulling at his doublet and shirt impatiently Jane pulled him in for a hungry kiss and Charles couldn't wait any longer either and hastily pulled off his hose. She moved to accommodate him and they both gasped as he joined their bodies right there standing up against the wall. There was no resistance, she was hot and slick and ready for him and the sudden realization hit Charles that that was because Henry had been there before him. For a short moment he felt conscious and weird to be where Henry had been just a little earlier, but the sensations were just too good to worry about it. He pushed the thought firmly to the back of his mind and then he pulled her up and she wrapped her legs around his hips and they fell into a quick rhythm, that made him forget about anything else. She writhed and moaned underneath him and he did everything she had taught him to make her climax before him, eagerly watching her reactions to his touches and strokes.
When it was over they were leaning against each other, breathing heavily, thoroughly satisfied. Charles raised his hand to idly play with her white full breast, while she played with a curl of his hair and they shared the last warm glow of their coupling for a while without speaking. The sight of his hand on her breast suddenly made the thought of Henry's hand there flash in his mind and he couldn't resist asking again.
"So, who was better?" He might have shared her with Henry but that didn't mean he didn't want her to like him better. She stopped playing with his hair and laughed amusedly. Instead of answering him she murmured "I have to go now" into his ear and suddenly withdrew from him. Speechless he watched her brush down her dress and make sure her hair looked alright, then open the door to leave. He opened his mouth to stop her, but she laughed and skipped back again to kiss him on the lips.
"Don't worry, you are still my favourite. Princes aren't all they are made out to be after all."
And with that she left, leaving him alone and feeling very smug indeed.

Henry had a hard time concentrating. The Earl of Surrey's voice echoed loudly in the big hall, yet it kept drifting to the back of his mind every other second and he had only the faintest of ideas what the Earl had even talked about when he finally stopped speaking and sat down in his booth again to make room for some other old man's boring parliament speech. Westminster Hall, the drafty old thing was as chilly and miserable as always, since his father saw no reason to rebuilt it, but for once Henry wasn't bothered by the cold at all.
His thoughts kept him very hot.
He couldn't stop fantasizing about what had happened with Jane yesterday. Her hair, her lips, her teasing words, the feel of her warm body... all the extraodinary sensations were with him constantly. Not even in the barge on the way here with his father had he been able to stop thinking about her and more than once he had thought the king must surely notice how awkwardly he sat on his cushion and how red his face was... He chanced a sideways look at his father now, who was presiding over parliament on his throne, watching every single person in the hall like a hawk, deciding which mouse to swoop down on next and he felt a triumphant gloating rising up in him.
It was unbelievable that he had been kept away from knowing women for so long. Arthur had been fifteen when he had bedded Catherine and he was a year older already! It was just so unfair. Why did he have to suffer just because father was convinced Arthur had died from bedding a woman at too young an age? How could anyone possibly die because of lying with a woman, that was simply ridiculous! If anything, being with Jane had made him feel more alive than ever.
So much so that he desperately wanted to see her again. And soon. Charles would have to arrange another meeting with Jane for him. But first he'd have to let him ride his stallion. A promise was a promise after all and the more so because it was the promise of a prince. He wasn't too enthusiastic about keeping that one though. He felt so intensely possessive of his stallion, that he knew already it would cost him some effort to let someone else ride him. Ah, but the experience with Jane had truly been worth it and he was looking forward to repeat it.
He shifted in his seat and suppressed a sigh. Would this parliament session never end?

"Damn, what a horse! I wish my father would give me presents like that."
Charles and Anthony were standing in front of a box inside the royal stables looking at Henry's birthday horse. They had meant to get their own horses to go for a ride, but had stopped at Master Nameless's box to admire him. The stable boys jokingly called the stallion that behind Henry's back, because Henry refused to name him until he had ridden him in a joust.
Looking at the horse now and with yesterday's successful happenings, Charles suddenly couldn't contain his glee.
"Henry promised me he would let me ride him," he told Anthony smugly.
Anthony snorted. "Yeah, sure! In your dreams maybe!" he laughed. "Come on. Let's get our own horses, our free day isn't going to last forever."
They had just come back from the palace's docks at the Thames where Henry and the king had left by barge for Westminster to attend parliament and they now had the whole day to themselves. Anthony was determined to enjoy it to the fullest by going for a ride first and then having fun in town, but Charles stopped him.
"I'm not joking, he really did," he said, waiting for Anthony to envy him and ask questions how he had managed to get Henry to agree. Not that he'd tell the truth about that, but Anthony disappointed him.
"You expect me to believe that? No way!" he laughed, his eyes flicking disbelievingly between Charles and the stallion.
"Yes." Charles said, smirking.
"Pff! That horse will die of old age before Henry let's anyone ride it," Anthony scoffed, crossing his arms. "I don't believe you, you are just making this up."
"No, I'm not." Charles grew a little angry.
Anthony raised his eyebrows at him. "Tell your grandmother that, Charles."
"Fine!" Charles snapped, "I'll prove it to you!"
Henry had told him, he could ride the horse when he was back from Westminster tomorrow... But what would one day earlier matter?
"Saddle him." he told one of the stable-boys, who was just passing them. The boy looked at him with uncertainty. "But... that is my lord prince's horse, sir."
"He allowed me to ride it." Charles shot back, his jaw clenched. Anthony looked at him in disbelief and the boy looked very reluctant and sceptical too so Charles rolled his eyes and added impatiently. "Go and ask my uncle if you don't believe me!"
Since his uncle was Master of the Horse to the king and therefore in charge of the royal stables, Charles carried some sort of unofficial authority here, because naturally no one wanted to piss of the boss's nephew. His uncle had no idea yet of course but 'Go ask my uncle' always worked and so the boy eventually started saddling Henry's horse, albeit hesitatingly.
Charles looked at Anthony in triumph. "See?"
Anthony's sceptic expression slowly turned into a wry, cynical smile. "Well, of course. There's nothing he will deny you for long, is there?" he said resignedly. "Or you are even stupider than I thought."
A short time later they were galloping out of the palace's gates into the extensive deer park beyond, racing each other. A few of the other boys from Henry's household and even some of the stable-boys had followed them, when they had seen what was happening: Everyone wanted to see the horse in action. Charles hadn't intended to make this a public affair but he didn't much care either, so he whooped excitedly as his stallion easily outdistanced all of them, the horse's powerful body moving underneath him and the wind in his hair and feeling incredibly triumphant.
"Try making him turn on the spot, Charles!" Anthony cried and the others joined in, encouraging him. They spent the next hour or so watching Charles doing feats of horsemanship on the stallion, coming up with ever new things he should try and when that got boring they went to hunt some rabbits. One or two of them had brought their dogs along and they actually caught some hares in their unplanned little hunting trip. They had fun and enjoyed themselves in that manner until they got hungry around midday.
"Let's ride back and have something to eat," Anthony said. His cheeks were flushed and he was hungrily eyeing the rabbits slung over someone else's saddle. "I could eat a horse! And I want to spent the afternoon in the pub with lots of ale!" Everyone laughed, because ale involved bar wenches and music too.
"Al right! Let's ride back to the palace," Charles said, his high spirits fading a bit. He was a little regretful that his one ride with Henry's stallion was over already and decided he'd ask him if he could have him again. After all, now that Henry had had a taste of women, he'd want one again. And who was better suited to get him one than Charles?
The last few miles away from the palace, he cried. "Hey, who wants to try and race me again?". The others indulged him and spurred on their horses, laughing and whooping even though they knew it was hopeless to try and catch up with Henry's stallion. The horses hooves pounded the grass ever faster in their race.
Later Charles couldn't remember exactly how it had happened. But one moment he was galloping ahead, shouting for joy and the next he found himself violently propelled through the air, then hitting the ground hard and tumbling through the grass. For a moment he just lay as he had fallen, too shocked to move, afraid he had broken something. His head hurt and his ears were ringing. All his limbs felt numb, as if they weren't actually part of him. A hand gripped him by the shoulder and pulled him up and the feeling in his limbs suddenly came back. "Charles, are you alight?" Anthony was looking at him with worry. Slowly, with his help, Charles got up, finding all his bones sore yet still whole. Then the horse's panicked whinnying reached his ear. Anthony beside him was quiet and pale. Charles turned. The stallion had not been as lucky as he had been.
He'd stepped into a rabbit's burrow.

A horse with a broken leg was a dead horse. They all knew that. It would have to be killed. But no one dared get near the panicked, wounded horse. They stood and watched in doomed silence as the big strapping animal tried to get up again and again on it's broken leg, it's eyes full of white, it's coat covered in sweat. It would not give up until finally someone ran and fetched Charles's uncle, the king's Master of the Horse, who made a quick end to the horrible display, when he arrived. He put the barrel of his gun between the stallion's eyes and shot him. The sound of the gun rang loud and final, as the body collapsed and blood began to run into the green grass, the smell of gunpowder permeating the air. Everyone's eyes turned to Charles.
"You are in so much shit, Charles!" Anthony whispered.

to be continued

A/N: As always feedback is very much appreciated. Tell me if you liked it! (Or even if you didn't lol)