There are many things people say love is. In knowing what love is it's better to look at what love is not. Love is not blind. It sees everything and especially what is true. Love is not the only thing needed to sustain a person or a relationship. Respect, support, trust, healthy boundaries, and growth are also required. Love is not lust nor all about sex. It is protective and a friendship, a protective friendship. Love is not exhausting. It is freeing, natural, healing, challenging in a good way. Love doesn't break. It builds.

Love is not perfect or a fairytale come to life. And the real difference between what love is and is not is like night and day. Love is not like the King and his Queen. Love is like the Duke and his Duchess. So when all of those attending the joust, in the tent area, saw the Grand Duke carrying his Duchess away they knew something had shifted between them. And the people hope it was due to her memory being returned.

Seeing His Highness gloomy and devoid of spirit is most unusual. Even when his first wife, the King's sister, passed away he had never looked like that. Never acted like that. But in weeks, and month, after the King's daughter took the great fall, it was different. It was like a piece of him had died. The light inside him grew dimmer by the day. So much so that even his enemies felt sorry for him, just a little to make them appear not entirely heartless.

Now all crying completed, Charles didn't want this time with his wife to end. Still feeling a bit like this is all a dream, he saved his kisses. Instead, he scooped her into his arms and carted her off to their apartments in the palace. She squealed at first, then reminded her husband "You have the joust."

To which he made it known "Hang the joust! I just got my wife back. You're more important." Even though he is tired and running on fumes, he carried her all the way to their bed. In a blanket of softness, her delicate body down was laid down. Her hand turned out, inviting him to join her. He did and his eyes grew heavy.

Not wanting to close his eyes, not wanting to miss anything, he became content to just look at her. The two of them, in bed together. She on her back and he on his side, her hand running over his face and up and down his arm. He took that dainty hand and brought it to his mouth. As she hummed a Spanish lullaby his eyes crept closed. For the first time in weeks, no, in almost two months he slept. He has not been able to do so since the executions and the two-month ordeal of her going from unconscious to amnesia. And he slept like a baby, deeply.

Only did he awaken because something bopped him on the nose. His groggy eyes opened to see his son patting his face. "Owen," his tired voice called out. The tiny tot kept patting. His eyes saw the other babe asleep at his mother's side. "Why can't you be more like your brother?" The only response he got was baby babble and more pats.

His wife, however, is fully awake. She giggled from behind a book. He couldn't help but say "Let me guess some more romantic rubbish?"

Marking her place, she closed it and put the tome on the bedside table. "If you must know it isn't poetry. It's actually a very engaging story about a count courting the woman he loves. Right now he's trying to win her hand away from the Duke of the Glen. He's dastardly in every way." Then she remembered something. "You may mock the poetry all you like, but I recall you having recited a particular poem to me while unconscious Sir."

Raising an eyebrow, he challenged her. "Oh, you recall that do you?" She nodded yes. "I did recite it to you. And I would do it all over again if needed." They both smiled loving smiles. He wondered "What time is it? Speaking of Counts, I am supposed to meet with Simon the Count of Rossendale."

Stroking her hand over William's back, Mary told him "How do I put this? You have been asleep for almost two days."

With an extremely put-out look on his face, Charles sputtered out words. "Two... days? Two days? Truly?" She nodded again. "Wife, why didn't you wake me?"

Why indeed? "Charles be serious. You have run yourself ragged tending to me. Not to mention the affairs of the King during the trial of Sir Thomas. You needed the restoration a good sleep can bring. So I let it be known you were not to be disturbed for anything. I had your two friends help me with that effort."

Again he wondered, "What time is it now?" She told him Thursday afternoon. The joust was on Tuesday, so he's been asleep for all that time. Wow! He laid there thinking this over and took his son and put him on his chest. Owen sat up and they "played" together, which is really Charles telling him kid rhymes with Owen giggling.

Once William roused, Mary fed him then took the twins to Joan. She called for a bath for the Duke and asked Bruce to give him a shave and a trim. Back in the bedroom, she explained "A bath is being drawn for you. Bruce is going to give you a shave and a trim. Now that you've slept we need to take care of the rest of you."

He eyed her hungrily from the bed. "I know how you can take care of me." He laughed when he saw her face.

"No. We are not. Not until you are clean," she admonished.

His nose turned and sniffed himself. "Do I smell My Lady? And don't you like my beard and my gorgeous hair?" He shook his head to accentuate this. "In fact, I've been getting many looks from the women of the court these days."

Turning her nose up at this, with as many kind words as she could muster, she remarked "That is because you do not smell good and because you look so unlike yourself. That is why they are staring at you." His eyes turned down at her words and she felt bad. Moving to sit on his bedside, she rested her hand on his arm.

With a soft voice, she spoke words of tenderness and love. "In order to take care of me and the boys, you let yourself go. I'm sure it must have felt like everything was coming apart, but somehow you got through it. You cared for me and for our family, at a time when I couldn't. But now I'm here and I'm going to take care of you." She took his hand and kissed his knuckles, then turned it over and kissed his palm. He nodded and wiped a few stray tears away.

It started with him getting out of bed and bathing. Then his manservant gave him a much-needed shave and trim. From there he entered the bed-chamber again, clad with only a towel around his hips. His eyes took in the space. Candles are lit and a spread of food is laid out on blankets by the fire. His wife handed him a goblet. Smiling he took it and drank the contents, only to find it was not what he was expecting. His nose bunched up at it in distaste. "Water? Where is the wine?"

She pointed her manicured finger at him. "I heard you drank a lot of wine during the whole time was... Well, where I was. No more of that, for now, it's water." He grunted in disgust. Smirking she had to say it. "Now you know how I felt after you took away my custard when I was pregnant. It's for your own good you said. Now I'm the one saying it to you. It's for your own good."

His eyes narrowed at her. "You are a wicked woman." She laughed and it turned something on in him. Her laugh hasn't been heard in much too long of a time. He stalked his wife all the way to the bedpost where she had nowhere to go. "What else is for my own good?" His eyes bore into hers.

Her throat grew dry and her knees weak. She felt tingly all over. Swallowing hard, she questioned "Food or a massage?"

Taking her hand, he placed it on his chest. "That depends. Who's giving it?" He prayed it was her. When she said me he took that hand and pulled her around to his side of the bed. Laying face down, he waited for her magic fingers- cause they are magical. She does the best job of getting his kinks out.

With tentative hands, she kneaded his muscles. But then as her fingers felt the knots in his shoulders, she knew she needed to do this for him. So she gave her husband the best massage he had ever had in his life. It left him boneless and a tad tired. Yet there was something he wanted more than sleep.

Getting off the bed, she stretched out her hand. "Food, your Highness." He smirked a roguish grin and took the proffered hand. She led him to the comfort of the blankets and pillows by the fireplace. After having him recline, she began feeding pieces of meat, cheese, and bread. Then came the fruit which she dipped in something. Once she put it in his mouth, he realized it was chocolate.

A moan escaped him. "You like that?" she asked. He told her yes and she fed him more of the delicious treats. When finished he licked her fingers free of the yummy substance. But there is still something he wants more than chocolate and she knew it. The fire in her eyes told him so, but it was mingled with hesitation.

This is odd because she has not been shy with him ever since that first night they made love. But this is sort of like that night all over again. A rediscovering of each other. Restoration of their love come to life. So he recited the same poem from Chaucer to her as he had done when she was unconscious. Except at the end, he added "I promise to never send you away and to always find you, no matter how far apart we are. I promise to fight for you and protect you in the warmth of my love. I promise to help you love life and live it to the fullest. I promise my love is for you and you alone."

Then she came to rest in his lap, with tears in her eyes at his declarations of love. She needs to tell him her own promises. "And I promise to never forget you or that ours is a special kind of love, a true love. I promise to carry in my heart the knowledge that no matter what may try to keep us apart, love will bring us back to each other. I promise to keep your heart and the secrets it holds in the sanctity of my trust. I promise to take care of you and help you to be a better you. I promise to be your lifelong, passionate friend."

He likes that— his lifelong, passionate friend. Except "You're not my friend. You're my best friend. The truest friend I've ever had." Her mouth whispered you're mine too. She looked at him as if he were the brightest star in the darkness of her mind. As if he were the light to guide her home and the air she breathes. He's never been looked at like this before and it strengthened his resolve.

Their lips found and caressed each other. All their love was poured into that single kiss, that whisper of love and tenderness. Suddenly she was lost again, but it was not like being lost in her mind or being lost in an unfamiliar place. It's the kind of lost that's familiar and comfortable. In fact, it's a lot like being found.

In the warmth of the room, and the light of the fire, their love became loud. Not the kind of loud that goes with yelling or lots of noise. No. The kind of loud where there's no hesitation, no concerns. Where love roars louder than dragons and voices of fear. It quiets all of them because this loud love is strong and secure.

The kiss became more than a kiss. It became an envelope of passion, devotion, joy, and peace. It became everything between them and much more. And when it was over, and they were laying entwined by the fire, she left no room for doubt. "Even if my memories were gone the next minute, I would still remember this evening. Because it's when our love grew even more unshakable."

They laid there whispering words of devotion, anchored by kisses. When his hand stroked through her lush hair, he told her "I want us to go away. I don't want to go home so soon. I think we're in need of a holiday."

With her head resting on one of the pillows, she brought the blanket up around her more. Although with him behind her, his warmth will heat her up in no time. Taking his hand and draping it over her side, she asked "Where would we go on this holiday and what will we do with the children?"

Placing a kiss on her shoulder, he smiled into it thinking about his ideas. "To the Welsh seaside. Your father told me he has another manor there, by the ocean. During these three months we've been at court, he gave us Wales indefinitely and all the benefits thereof. Which means we own all of the royal estates in the territory, that includes the King's seaside manor. And we'll take the boys too, of course, as well as Dot and all of the servants that journeyed with us here."

Snuggling into him, she thought of more concerns. "How long will we be gone and how will the people find us if something significant arises?"

He chuckled at her thoughts. "This is what I mean by promising to help you love life. I was thinking of a month at the ocean and must we tell people? I want to get away from our problems, not have them come with us. You're still healing and in need of rest. I am tired and exhausted." With that, he got up and moved to the bed. He laid there under the covers thinking about all of these things.

She followed and did the same, the only difference being her nightgown went on before getting in bed. The servants don't need to see everything the good Lord gave her. Lying there she saw how truly tired he really is. "Alright. Let's go on holiday, but will you at least message Jeffery. Will you let him know where we are, just in case?"

It's a simple enough request. He consented, then wanted to ask her a few questions. A few deeply stirring questions and he's not sure how to go about it. With her memories just restored, he doesn't want to trouble her mind and make everything break again. His voice became soft and his words considerate, careful. "Mary I love you and I'm so thankful to have you back. But I need to know."

Turning over to face him, she glanced into his eyes and saw nothing but affection there. Her finger stopped his words, for she has a feeling of what he wants to say. "Just ask. Your questions won't hurt me."

His strong wife. His strong, beautiful wife. "It might not hurt you, but it hurts me to have you relive it. I don't wish you unnecessary pain. But I need to know how you fell down a whole flight of stairs. That doesn't just happen by mere mishap."

She rolled over onto her back allowing her mind to drift away, to the time before the fall. Her voice started strong. "I was done feeding the boys and I wanted to clear my mind. I felt stifled being in our room, tired of seeing those walls. So I took Carter and walked around the palace, making sure to not venture where the Queen might be. I had just come from the upstairs library, when—-"

A flood of memory hit her about that time. It was so severe and vivid as if she were there. Her voice turned brittle. "Madge Shelton saw me and spoke out of the nastiness of her heart. I told her about some information I know and she wasn't thrilled. So she grabbed me by the arm, really hard, and began shaking me. I didn't see Carter, but I wanted to get away. I turned, then I fell. The last thing I thought of was you and the twins."

Tears eked out and down her face. He pulled her to him and loved her tears away. All he could do is scoff, knowing she didn't fall down the stairs by chance. "I knew someone had to have done something. I just wonder if the woman knows who killed Carter. I hate to tell you this, but your guard was found stabbed in a side room off the stairs. Someone wanted something to happen to you, whether it was Madge Shelton or not."

This only made her cry harder. It would do no good to ask why. She knows why. Even when she doesn't want it and accepts it's not hers, she'll always be a princess. But she's tired of playing princess. She just wants to be a wife, a mother, a friend, and a Duchess. "I just want to live my life," she stated with a tired voice.

He knows this but people who don't know her, don't know it. "You said you have come into some information. What information do you have that could make the Queen's handmaiden hurt you?" Seeing her expression change all too soon, made him know she doesn't want to tell him. She wants to keep it to herself.

Raising up and propping his back against the pillows on the headboard, he ran a hand over his face. Then he spoke. "Love is honest. What we have here is like you said. This love between us is special. It only happens once."

She cut him off. "No. It happened twice. I got to experience loving you all over again. That happens only once in a blue moon, which is almost never. I loved you once. I loved you twice. I will love you forever." Sitting up, she took his face and kissed him quickly. "But what I know is damaging. I don't want you complicit."

Stunned, he told her "Darling, if what you know is that serious then I also need to know. Complicit or not I need you to tell me. I need you to be honest with me because that's real intimacy. That's real love."

So she did. She told him all about the letter, all about Catherine Willoughby, and how Madge confirmed it. He blew out a large breath, very slowly and carded his fingers behind his head. Flabbergasted. He is completely flabbergasted and rendered speechless.

When his wits returned to him, he inquired as to "Where is the letter now?" Watching her get out of bed, and pick up her Bible she has done it again. For the third time that day, she blew his mind. He cannot believe she would hide something that important in "A Bible? Really wife?"

Giving him a dour look, she opened the Bible. "Yes because who would look in the Holy Book for important documents?" But as she flipped the pages, she realized the letter is missing. Her heart picked up speed as she kept flipping and flipping page after page.

And he knew it was gone. "You were saying?" He could not help but a sardonic grin came over his face. Then he witnessed his wife rush over to the wardrobe as fast as she could, with a chipped knee, and tie her robe around her.

She flew out of the room and down the hall to Dot's chambers. Knocking her friend let her inside the darkened room. Dot looked disheveled, but Mary can't help that now. "Dot! The letter! It's missing! I went to get it, from the Bible."

Dot's eyes grew wider and she hugged her friend. "Welcome back! We've missed you!" They both embraced and wiped tears.

"Yes! It's good to be back," Mary stated. Then her hand went to her hair and tugged at it. "But the letter—"

Taking over, Dot explained "Is with your father. I gave it to him when he was in your room, looking after you, during the amnesia."

Oh... God... No! That is all the Duchess could think about. She explained how Charles knows everything and she left to go tell this new revelation to her husband. Back in their bedroom, she laid her head on the door and stared at the Duke. He stared at her, his eyebrows questioning.

Ever so gingerly she walked to the bed and he helped her up. "Well, the letter is in the possession of my father." She saw his face go grim. "But on a happy note, I think you should just carry me around in your arms. My knee aches and even though my ribs are better, they're sore. So toting me would help. Don't you think?"

In order to put this day to rest, he rolled over and kissed her thoughtless or senseless or boneless. Whatever it was, it was amazing!

The next morning saw Charles up early in order to talk with the King. He's not sure how to start this conversation. How do you tell your father-in-law, who is also like your brother, who is also the King of England that his wife is a wicked queen? Because even though she has been pampered and spoiled, along with her family, she's evil. And he knows all too well that an evil person will still cause damage even if they're treated like royalty.

He saw the guards and waited to be announced into the King's private chambers. He does not worry because the Queen does not sleep there anymore. She's been moved to a room down the hall. One of the guards, Raymond he thinks, let him enter.

Henry was sitting at his small breakfast table pouring a glass of juice. "Are you hungry? Here sit and eat." He motioned to a chair beside him with an empty plate. "How's Mary?"

Sitting, the Duke loaded his plate with bacon, eggs, cheese, and fruit. "Funny you ask that. She has fully regained her memories." He heard the King mutter praise the lord. "Yes. It is thanks to Him. But there is the matter of how she came to be unconscious and broken."

After chewing a piece of ham, Henry announced "Yes, I know. Madge Shelton pushed her." He went back to eating another piece of the meat.

Pointing his fork at his friend, Charles was agape. "You knew?"

"Of course I did. This isn't MY palace for nothing. I have eyes and ears everywhere Man. You know that. It's the same as how I know your ward set you up without thinking. I knew that even before I had proof in the form of her letter." He stood up to go to a stately writing desk that all manner of ink, quills, books, and parchment. Once there he opened the top locked drawer with a key from his pocket. Taking a stack of documents, he returned to the table.

Setting the papers down, he looked Charles in the face. "I even know my Queen is part of it. What I have here are letters from the King of Portugal. Now I realize the royal family there wanted you gone in order to answer for my sister. However, I let them know that you are to not be hurt in any way. That my sister paid the price for her sins already with her death. I also made it clear as day that they are to send me any missives of plots between my wife and any members of his royal family." His hand slapped the parchments.

"What you see here is the plotting of the Queen and her kin to rid themselves of you, Mary, and now my grandchildren." His face twisted into something sly and sneering. "The Queen lied to me! She said she would give me a son and she has not. Did you know she became pregnant again after the miscarriage? She did and miscarried again just last month. And did you know the King of France would rather betroth any of his children to yours and Mary's? He would rather have yours than Princess Elizabeth." He stood up and began walking around the room.

Stopping to pour a glass of ale, he thought out loud "I should have seen this coming. Why didn't I see this coming?" Downing the glass, he turned around and stared at his friend again. "It doesn't matter. She will be gone soon anyway. As for Mary, I'm putting her back in the line of succession. I want William to be trained with the best tutors since he is your heir." He looked off into space deep in thought.

Charles had long stopped eating. In fact, hardly one bite left his plate. Things keep dropping him like a catapult releasing a fireball onto an unsuspecting castle. He does not want to know, or ask, what the King means by she will be gone soon. The less he knows the better. But he does want to know "Do I have your blessing to depart for the Welsh seaside today?" The sooner they leave this place the better.

Waving him off, Henry assured him "Yes of course. Although I would like to see my daughter and my grandchildren before you go."

Pushing his chair away from the table, the Duke stood. "And Charles," Henry began. "Do not worry about retribution. It will be taken care of. As for feeling safe, you are free to travel whatever road you wish to take. Do you understand what I am saying?"

He gave a nod of comprehension and discernment. Then promised to alert him before they left. As he walked back to his apartments, Charles realized the favor of the King is a fickle thing. Knowing what he knows now about his longtime friend, falling out of favor completely is fearsome. The King's retribution is severe. It's always listening. It never sleeps. It's calculated and cruel. And God help those in the line of it.

As for his wife, how does he tell her she's back in the line of succession to the throne? The thing she let go of has not let go of her. He came near to the stairs where she fell. Stopping and looking at them, made his heart hurt. There's an ache there, a tension and sadness. The reality of the fall is clear. She tumbled all the way down and it was meant to hurt her. To break her. To injure her forever.

In fact, she's lucky to be alive. She's fortunate to be walking. She's blessed to have her memories. She's a walking miracle. She was born to rule. Whether it's a Duchy or a kingdom or their home, his wife is a good leader of people. He knows because she's helped him. Whether she's to be Queen one day, he knows not. But what he does know, from looking at these stairs is this. What God lifts up, no man can push down. Thank God she's alive and she's his wife. His love.