Sleep is a golden thread. It ties the mind and the body together weaving an intricate web called health. It's the best cure for a lot of problems, especially ones weighing on the heart and the mind. It helps a person forget about the pain, problems, stress, sadness, everything— at least for a little while. Sleep isn't just sleep, it's a way out and a way into some of the most beautiful dreams.

This is true, except for when those dreams aren't really dreams at all. Instead, they're horrific nightmares. These are the dreams where the pain, problems, stress, fears, worries, and sadness of life turn into ghosts. They haunt the dreamer during sleep and follow them around during the hours of the day.

Since returning home from the North, Charles has been haunted and followed both in the nighttime and the daytime. It's been difficult. When his eyes close, his vision fades blending into the events in York. Civilians fall to the wayside dead, the hanging of Robert Aske, but then it changes to the deaths of Sir Thomas More and George Boleyn.

As the dream shifts again, it's The Whore. She puts her head on the block and that's when it happens. Her face transforms into Mary's and just as the executioner rears the ax back, a revelation happens. It's not the executioner but himself who's swinging it. She sees him and yells out "Charles!" He wakes up in a cold sweat... every... single... time.

In order to stave off the dreams, he stays awake as long as possible, or he drinks. Neither of those options is good because it only makes him edgy and grumpy. One day not too long ago he was sitting in his office working on the ledger when his wife entered. She asked him a simple question. "Charles Governance Day is coming up. Will you be at it with me?"

Holding his head up from the books, his eyes connected with hers. "I don't know yet. Either I will or I won't. Now leave me be so I can finish up our finances." His response was very curt and unkind. He could tell he had hurt her by the sad, troubled look on her face as she turned around to leave. It seems he has been doing that a lot lately, disappointing her- from his lack of affection to his disinterest in her affairs, or him not communicating with her in general.

But that was then and now it's only gotten worse. The worse happened when he was trying to exit the bedroom and Mary wanted him to wait. She placed her delicate hand on his arm. That's all she did, but he grabbed her arm tightly— too tightly. The only thing he could see was death all around him. He didn't hear her voice telling him it was hurting. When he looked down at her arm it was red and he instantly let go. There is a mark put there by his hand. In an effort to save himself from the hurt, brought on by him alone, he immediately fled from her presence.

That's what he's been doing ever since, fleeing. He finds ways to avoid her. The most common one has been to go inspect the border with his men or stay up playing games with William at night. They usually play cards and drink until the wee hours of the morning. However, that changed when His Majesty sent him a letter about a few upcoming Privy Council meetings. So he went to court early without a second thought.

Mary did not want him to go, but he went anyway without a formal goodbye. While at court he spoke to the priest about everything, especially his deep regret over the northern reprisals. The priest told him that the Lord has forgiven him, but that "You have to forgive yourself as well." This is the one thing he can't do.

So he drinks, plays cards with the King, hates Thomas Cromwell, and refuses to go home. The Privy Council meetings have been volatile considering he openly opposes Cromwell, at any opportunity presented to him. So much so that one night playing cards, Henry asked "Charles what's gotten into you? You're very hostile to my secretary, you look like crap, and are drinking more than you have in years. Is everything alright at home?"

Putting his cards facedown, the Prince leaned back in the chair. With a steady, rough-sounding voice, he noted "I am fine Sire. Now let's get back to our game." He basically dismissed his friend's questions altogether.

With a quizzical look on his face, Henry leaned forward on the table. He got a good look at his friend. "No, you're not. You're not fine. You've been here for several weeks now. I've heard how you drink and drink and gamble away the time. That is not who you are anymore. So I'll ask again, is everything alright at home? Is it Mary? Has she done something? Please tell me you haven't been seeing someone behind her back. You've said those days are over."

Those days are over. But the more his friend talked the more it got on his nerves. It also made his anxiety flair up. As his muscles in the neck, shoulders, and jaw tensed, he dug his nails into his thighs. His eyes closed to recompose himself and not say something he shouldn't. It didn't work. "I said I'm fine," he all but yelled.

At that very moment, Henry made up his mind. With a hard look fixed upon his face, he stated "As your father-in-law, and as the King, I order you home. You are not to be at court any longer. I will call upon you when I feel it's time for you to return."

Sliding his chair back in anger, he stomped away out of the room to go pack his things. A foul mood followed him. During his packing, a knock sounded on the door. He opened it himself and saw Elizabeth Stratford there. She stood coquettish with doe eyes and her blond hair down. Standing tall with his arms crossed he asked "What do you want?" She walked right up to him and kissed him.

He may be tired and hurting, but he's not desperate. If he did this to keep the pain away, even just a little, he could never truly forgive himself. Never. Pushing the woman away, he commanded her to leave. In a huff she did. He finished packing and had his servants carry the things out to the carriage. He slept a final, restless night in the palace.

The ride to Cardiff was miserable due to the stress of seeing his wife. He doesn't want to see her. It will only make him feel like more of a failure and disappointment than he already does. So as with the first time he was home, after the rebellion, he set his mind on ignoring her. Except when he got there, his wife was nowhere to be found and neither was the children.

They were gone. Gone to Cardigan Castle for the summer, at least that's what Glyn told him. Which is fine because he didn't want to see her anyway. Only that isn't really the truth. He did want to see her. It made his already hurting heart ache even more. His head hurts. He's a real mess. Everything is a big jumbled-up mess inside him.

Knowing that alcohol won't cure any of these problems, he decided to turn to someone whom he thought could help. Calling on Doctor Pearce, as he had done during the pregnancy of the twins, would at least give him someone to talk to. Waiting in the physician's foyer, while the servant fetched him, he admired the quaintness of the space.

The Doctor has a nice size house with a large family room. His wife, Ina, has a colorful taste. Mary is colorful too, but it's well-thought color choices and patterns. Not at all like the haphazard scheme of the doctor's wife. He remembers the blue, orange, and red pillows on the sofa, along with the sunny yellow curtains. It almost makes his eyes hurt.

As he was thinking this over, Doctor Pearce came to greet him. "Your Highness, what can I do for you? Is everything alright with Mary and the children?" He showed him into his home study room.

After sitting, Charles let him know "Everything is fine with the children and my wife. However, I'm a different story." The doctor got up to get his medicine bag, but His Highness stopped him. "No, no. Please don't get up. I'm not sick per se. It's rather something going on with my head. I'm in need of advice."

The doctor still got up and went to his wine table, medicine of a different source. After pouring himself a glass, he offered one to the Prince. Seeing it, His Highness declined and the older gentleman sat back down. "I don't think that would be appropriate for me right now. You see drinking is part of the problem," Charles explained. Then he launched into his time during the northern rebellion, while his older, wiser, friend listened.

He continued telling him about what happened when he returned home too. "I was fine for a few days, but as the adrenaline wore off I began being unable to sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw dead bodies and other horrible things. So I started drinking and staying up late. I also began lashing out at my wife, for no reason, or ignoring her altogether."

Unable to sit still, he got up and began pacing. He spoke of his time at the King's court while he did so. "The King ordered me home. Upon returning home I found my family had gone to Cardigan, for the summer. I need help and I'm not sure what to do." His voice pleaded.

Doctor Pearce asked him "Do the feelings of the nightmares stay with you during the day?"

Nodding he told him "Yes. Even though the fighting is over, those feelings are an armor I cannot seem to take off. No matter how badly I want to, it's still there heavy on my person."

The empathetic physician felt pain for him. "Charles you must know that you experienced a traumatic event. Anything traumatic permanently changes a person. You need to, first, admit to yourself that you felt betrayed by your friend, your father-in-law, our King. It's OK to do so, my friend. You are allowed to feel that way. You're only human and we are not perfect people. So that's the first thing."

Over the time that the Brandons have come to live in Cardiff, Doctor Lloyd Pearce has felt somewhat of a father figure to this young man. He enjoys their conversations and time together, much as he does his apprentice Edmund. "The next thing is to realize all those negative feelings you have felt regarding your part in the squelch of the rebellion, can only go away with time, love, patience, and a lot of prayers. The scary truth is there is no getting over the trauma. There is no going back to the old you. You're different now, so accept it."

His young friend formed tears in his eyes that seemed to want to spill out. He came over to lay a hand of comfort on the Prince's shoulder. Then he sat back down in his chair. "Being different because of the event is not necessarily a bad thing. As healing takes place, and healing will happen, new joys and strengths are found. The goal here is to embrace this new situation with courage. Some days will be better than others, again be patient with yourself."

Wiping his eyes with his hand, Charles's shaky voice asked "But what if it never gets better? What if I'm always like this? How can I be around my children? How can I be around my wife? I don't want to hurt them." Those thoughts brought him to tears again.

In the academy in Rome, he had to deal with trauma patients who have been to war. The mind is a difficult thing. It's easy to get oneself into negative thinking, and feelings, it's harder to get out of them. But it can be done. He saw firsthand trauma recovery. "Come now. Besides grabbing your wife forcefully, have you ever hurt her or thought about it?"

The Prince shook his head no. "Then there's your answer. You are not broken and in need of fixing. You are hurt and in need of healing. That's a big difference, my friend. As for the time when you took hold of your wife's arm, you were triggered. The triggers are what you need to be mindful of. Triggers can happen when you least expect them to. Those are the scars written all over the inside of your heart and mind. And not just yours, many people everywhere have them. Understand?"

This time he nodded yes. The doctor resumed talking. " You and I will meet every week together. You're not just my patient, but my friend. I'm letting you know you will get through this. You will Charles. One of the things we'll work on is what triggers you. That's one of our starting places. The other one is what the priest told you— forgiving yourself."

Charles broke down again. He cannot be more thankful for Doctor Pearce. Thinking he was going to have to go through this alone, for the rest of his life made his anxiety flare up in ways he couldn't have comprehended. After thanking his perceptive friend, he admitted "I don't know if I can forgive myself." His head reclined on the back of the chair.

Oh yes, Lloyd Pearce already knows this. "Right now you are walking in shame and guilt. You are punishing yourself because of something that was out of your control. It was not your fault. You were carrying out orders that would have otherwise made you an enemy of the King. Instead of focusing on your shame and guilt, I need you to focus on your strengths. We're going to work through this likewise."

Before the Prince of Wales could do anything more, his mentor told him "One of the best ways to focus on your strengths is your family. Your family is your strength. Your wife has been through trauma herself, from what we've discussed in the past. What with being cast away into a castle from all of her loved ones, feeling inferior and unwanted. The two of you need each other, now more than ever."

Oh, God! What has he done? All of sudden Charles Brandon was overcome with sorrow and remorse. Hearing the doctor's words made him realize he's treated his wife almost exactly how she's been treated in the past. It's no wonder she left their house. For once he was able to think clearly. His eyes were off of himself and his problems. He knew he needs to make things right with her.

He explained this to the physician. His friend told him some things to do when he's triggered and how to cope. But the main thing he said is "You do need to be with your wife. You're a team and right now you've been on opposite sides." The man also let him know that even though he'll be in Cardigan, he will be making a trip to visit him every week until the family returns to Cardiff. "It's only an hour's ride away," he mentioned.

Armed with newfound knowledge and ways to cope, the Prince departed Doctor Pearce's home. He left for his own and had the servants help him pack for Cardigan. He didn't want to waste any more time and chose to leave right away. One of the other things his mentor said was "Take your eyes off of yourself. Once you do that you'll be surprised at how much better you feel." That's true, thinking about his wife and children makes him feel a whole lot better. He just hopes he still has a wife.

The ride seems to be longer than ever to him, this time. There's not much for him to do except go over the household finances and try not to think about his wife. Trying not to think about his wife is like trying not to eat pudding at Christmas. It's impossible.

As the time ticked by he grew antsier and antsier. When at last Cardigan Castle came into view, he stopped the carriage at once. To work his nerves out, a nice long walk through the orchard to the front door is in order. After taking his doublet off, and leaving it on the seat, he set off. Rolling his sleeves up as he went, he knew it would take some time to get there.

Eventually, he made it to the apple trees and picked one to eat. Ripe, juicy, and delicious, it watered his mouth and satisfied his stomach. When he reached the maze, he heard voices. One of them is Mary's. His feet picked up speed and entered the maze from the back, in hopes of catching her. Rounding a corner he barely had the presence of mind to catch himself before almost colliding into her.

Her eyes took sight of him. He saw a myriad of emotions run through them and the last thing he saw was anger. It hardly registered that she had turned away and started to run. Now she's running away from him and he deserves it. But at the same time, "Wait!"

He took off after her. Through the maze, up to the front door, into the house, up the stairs, down the hall, and into their bedroom. The door slammed in his face. Opening it, he found her sobbing on the bed. Taking his boots off, he went to her and crawled onto it too. He didn't say anything, just placed a hand on her shoulder. She tried to shake it off. "Go away," she told him with a croaky voice.

With his head hung low, he turned around and left her be. He went and found his children, with a big hole in his heart. Trying to give her space, he spent time with the boys and stared at his daughter. She cried every time he got near, not recognizing him. Having been gone for so long, and her just being born, he supposes that makes sense. All the same, it doesn't make it hurt any less.

"Dada, look," William told him. He put a big seashell into his father's hand.

Charles examined the shell like it is a priceless work of art. "Wow! Did you find this?" He held the shell up.

The little boy said "Yes."

With a big smile, the proud father let his son know "That's incredible Son. Good job." William grinned and hugged his dad. That is the best feeling in the world. The only thing that compares is being hugged by his wife.

The afternoon was spent with father and sons playing on the sand of the beach, reading together, and eating summer fruit. When the boys went down for an afternoon nap, he tried again with his daughter. In her room, she was awake but still cried when she saw him. "Please Baby, please don't cry. Daddy won't hurt you," he softly spoke to her.

"She doesn't know you. Not really." Mary moved around him and picked Gillian up. The baby stopped crying in an instant. She gurgled and smiled at her mama, leaving Charles feeling like a huge heel.

His wife started walking out of the room, with Gillian snug in her arms. He followed. On exit, she began going in the direction of their own chambers. He stood there watching them walk away. Twisting to look at him, she asked "Well aren't you coming?" Then she disappeared into the room.

With caution, he walked behind them. Inside the room, she had sat on the bed propped up with pillows behind her. Gillian lay in her arms, giggling every time Mary kissed her hand. He came over to them and she motioned for him to sit beside her. So once again he found himself on their bed without his shoes. Except for this time, he wasn't rebuffed by his wife, and this time his baby girl didn't cry upon seeing him.

He sat watching them interact until she scooted closer and placed the cheerful baby in his arms. Gillian's face scrunched up as if she was going to cry, but Mary placed a hand of comfort on her. From then on the little girl didn't shed a tear. "She just has to relearn who you are," she explained.

As he held his baby, he confessed "I guess she and I have something in common then. I have to relearn who I am too."

Time was spent holding Gillian and kissing her until she fell asleep in his arms. He took her and put her back into the safety of her crib. Then he went back into the master bedroom hoping to talk to his wife. She hadn't moved, still sitting on the bed. He approached her gingerly and took his spot beside her again.

They didn't speak for what seemed like the longest time, even though it really wasn't. "Why did you leave me? Do you not love me anymore?" she wanted to know. Her heart was in her throat and on her sleeve.

How does he respond to that? "That's not it at all. I love you so much it hurts me, for how I treated you. But I wasn't in my right mind and I haven't been for a long time." Pushing through the pain, he explained to her the trauma and nightmares and the feelings. Finally, he declared, "I mess up everything, and oh how I desperately begged myself not to mess up with you. But I did in spite of it all. I messed up. I hurt you like you were hurt in the past. And I'm so very sorry. I love you with every broken, messed up piece of me." He's not really sure how he spoke through his tears.

She looked off in the distance, crying. Until her hand reached for his and laced their fingers together. "Charles, I had no idea what you have been going through but I wish I did. I knew something was wrong with you. You forgot how I sleep lightly when nursing a baby. I knew you weren't sleeping and had fitful sleep. I knew you were drinking heavily. I just didn't know the cause."

Wiping her eyes with a handkerchief pulled from her pocket, she maintained "I want to be mad at you. I want to yell at you for how you treated me, but I can't. I can't do it because that would be punishing you for something out of your control. You're already punishing yourself enough. Yes, you hurt me because you kept me out. But I love you and I forgive you. I just can't be mad at you. Not really. But please don't hurt me like that again."

She let him hold her and they both cried together. Their tears mingled. "I wish I could promise you that, but I can't. I will probably mess up again and do something you disapprove of. I'm only human. All I can ask is for your forgiveness and try not to. Please, please know I didn't want to hurt you. That's one of the main reasons I stayed away." He told her how he went to see Doctor Pearce and what they discussed.

"Oh Charles, I'm so very sorry. But I'm so glad you have the doctor. I don't want to think about it if you didn't. I just wish I had known. I wish I had realized the hell you're going through. My father's actions with the north already disgusted me, but now... Now I'm sickened because it hurt you so. I want to help you. I want to be here for you. Please let me," she communicated to him.

He clung to her and twined their legs. "I want you to help me. I think between you, and Doctor Pearce, and God, I might be OK after all."

Running her hands down his side, his arms, his back, she told him "My Knight in rusty armor, you wake up every morning fighting the same demons. The same ones that left you tired and weary. That, My Love, is courage. I know a little of how you feel because I used to feel the same way until your love helped me. Not a moment too soon either."

He can't speak for weeping. She spoke for him. "I once thought death is the greatest loss in this life. I was wrong. The greatest loss in this life is what dies inside us while we live. But the thing is there's something better than loss. There's love. I believe in true love. I believe in love over fear. I believe that love can conquer all. That doesn't mean there will be hard days or difficulties because there will be. But... When you find the right person- the right person for you, it just makes those challenges easier."

Placing a kiss on his head, she rested in his arms. His damp eyes looked at hers. "You make it easier for me, Mary. You're my person. You're my love. And I don't know what I would do without you."

That night she chased his demons away and held his hand when he couldn't sleep. She loved him through it. It's not going to be easy, but at least he's taken the first steps to recovery. And that's what matters, the first steps. Because the best way out of something is through it, not drowning it or avoiding it. In time he thinks that maybe, just maybe, he can forgive himself too.