Twins- twice the joy, twice the love, and twice the fun (or, in the case of the Brandon twins, twice the mischief). The twin's birthday celebration was as fabulous as one could expect with the King as a grandfather. Since they were turning two, His Majesty ordered two of everything. Each guest got four slabs of ribs instead of the usual two, two roasted chicken, two baked potatoes, twice the vegetables, twice the fruit, two of the King's specially grown pears, two bottles of finely aged wine, two mini petite cakes, and it went on and on. It made the King's Court wonder what it would be like if His Majesty ever had a son.
In the gardens, standing around the guests, Charles took the time to whisper to his wife. "Well, he did it. I didn't think it was possible, but he outdid our birthday celebration from last year." His eyes took in the massive table of sweets which had double the amount of everything. He smiled at the passersby.
Smiling a beautiful smile at the gentry of the court, Mary agreed with him. In hushed tones, by his side, she spoke. "It's ostentatious, this whole thing. The boys will be so spoiled and expect this every year, which they won't get from us." To be honest, she cannot remember one of her younger birthdays being this elaborate and so celebrated. But then she's just a Princess, not the long-awaited Prince.
As her sharp eyes surveyed the scene, she noticed her father had not released his hold on his grandsons since they had come outside. And for their part, William and Owen did not want him to put them down. It's rather odd to see him holding the boys in such a fashion and doting on them, especially since his two-year-old daughter is outdoors also. So while her husband had Gillian, Mary went to claim her sister.
The little girl can always be found attached to Dot's side. She loves Dot, and who wouldn't? Dot is full of fun and kindness. It makes her wonder when her friend will have her own child. Standing beside the pair of them, she asked, "Isn't this whole thing a disturbing display of wealth?"
Nearly laughing, Dot responded, "Yes. But he's their grandfather. Let him do what grandparents love to do: spoil their grandchildren rotten. At least he shows interest in them. Unlike this little one in my arms." Her eyes looked down at the child, who was content to be held by her or anyone who shows affection.
Mary stroked her sister's back in a soothing manner. Today the little girl wore a specially chosen pretty red, embroidered silk dress. The sweet toddler looks adorable in it. Holding her arms out, Her Highness spoke to her. "Liz, let's go stand with Dad." As Elizabeth went to her "mother," her face brightened knowing she would get to be her Daddy. All of the children love Charles. It's very endearing.
As she carried Liz, which she's taken to call her, people eyed the pair. Some eyes were friendly, but others were cold and cruel-looking. She paid them no mind. When she reclaimed her spot by her husband, who talked with the Count of Newcastle, he stopped and greeted his "daughter." "Why hello, Buttercup? I haven't seen you since this morning." He kissed her cheek. His words made Elizabeth grin a toothy grin, which is hilarious because she only has two front teeth. They're eagerly waiting for the others to grow in.
The loving couple traded children. Mary took Gillian, and he took Liz. Once he finished his conversation with the Count, he made his rounds with other members of the Royal Court. All the while, Elizabeth was either in his arms or at his side. Her strawberry blonde hair shined in the sunlight. He is unashamed to show her off, unlike her actual father. This makes his wife swoon just a little more every time he does so.
As the afternoon wore on, the Majestic Menagerie performed. The twins could be seen clapping, laughing, and enjoying themselves- all the great pleasure of their grandfather. When the Bengal tiger came out, Owen got scared and jumped off his grandfather's lap. He ran crying "Mama! Mama!" until he made it safely into her arms. Finally, she gets to hold one of her birthday boys. However, after the fierce tiger went away, he got down from her lap and returned to his "Papa." She shifted her sad face to Charles. "He left me for my father. I feel so cheap," she told him.
He threw an arm around her. "It's OK. The girls and I still love you." Gillian reached out for her mother, who took her. Mary can tell she's tired and ready for her nap. As she laid her head on her Mama's chest, she closed her eyes. The crowd thundered with applause for the silk aerial acrobats. Having just dozed off, the baby snapped her eyes open and began to cry.
Beginning to grow tired of the party, Mary got up with her daughter and walked her around the gardens. Gently patting her daughter's back, she strolled into a quiet corner and sat on a stone bench. Gillian dozed off to sleep again. As she sat, her ears could hear a few courtesan ladies talking from inside the maze.
Naturally, they were speaking about her, saying all kinds of ugly things like "Her hair is not as pretty as her Aunt Margaret's was," "It's a wonder he's still with her. He could have any woman in the kingdom, yet he chooses the King's bastard Princess", "The dresses she wears aren't as pretty as the Queen's. Plus she wears sleeveless ones.", "I hope their daughter takes after her father. It would be a shame to waste such structured cheekbones, especially when the mother is passably pretty."
Mary hugged her baby tighter and closed her eyes to calm herself. Walking back to the party, she handed Gillian off to Lady Agnes, who took her inside the nursery. Not feeling much like celebrating, the Princess opted to walk around the grounds instead. Finding a shadowy spot by the lake, she sat down with a tree behind her back. Thankfully Joan had talked her into wearing a red dress. Grass stains shouldn't be an issue.
Staring out to the water, she smiled at the remembrance of coming here with her mother. The still waters of the lake reflect the beauty surrounding it. It's quiet and calm, other than the gentle breeze. Most days, she's quiet and calm, but, her mind and heart are troubled right now. It's almost a wish that the lake would be troubled too, but it's not. It's perfectly undisturbed.
So she sat listening to nature around her. The longer she sat, the more the music of her heart began to breakthrough. It was then footsteps were heard, crunching on fallen leaves. A soft blanket was draped around her legs and strong arms wrapped about her shoulders. Her husband's voice sounded in her ears. "Why are you out here alone and not at the party?"
Standing up, she moved to sit between his legs. He pulled to recline on his chest, with his arms about her waist. She explained what she overheard. His eyebrows lifted. "Passably pretty," he said with a scoff. Then he wondered, "Are you feeling down today? Because last night was hands down one of the best of my life. That's all because of you, My Love. You're not passably pretty; you're incredibly pretty. Don't let those jealous troublemakers bring you down to their level."
Tugging his arms tighter around her, she stated, "I know. I try to remember what Dot said. When I was sad from people talking about me, she told me that life's too short for ugly dresses and ugly people. Then she went on to say, we are gold, but they are gold-plated."
Charles kissed the side of her head and chuckled. "She's right, you know. But I don't think those gossips are truly what's wrong here. I think something else is upsetting you. Is it your father?"
She nodded. "This whole ridiculous affair of celebrating the twins brings up old feelings of inadequacy. Then hearing those old peahens made it rear its ugly head even more. You see, the problem is fairytales are a huge disappointment. In real life, the King is an absent father who ignores the Princess in favor of a Prince." Her hand took a stone and chucked it into the lake.
Kissing her neck, he inhaled her scented hair— roses. "I knew it. I knew a small part of you would feel this way closer to the long-awaited babe's due date." He laced their fingers together. "Well, that's a sad fairytale because I know a better one. Like yesterday, I wrote you a better real-life romantic story than that rubbish you read. Now I guess I'll have to do it again." An idea popped into his head.
Then he declared, "You'll have to wait a bit for your fairytale but let me remind you. There is nothing ordinary about you, Darling. No matter what anyone says, you are extraordinary. Plus, now, don't get mad for me saying this, but all these nasty feelings you're feeling didn't come from God. They're coming from somewhere else." He gave her a knowing look before he stood up and held his hand out.
Taking it, she said, "True." They walked back to the celebration, where he left her in the company of Dot. Then she watched him wander off to speak with her father, who nodded at whatever he said. As Charles motioned around the gardens with his hands, she asked her friend, "What on earth could he be saying?"
Paisley, who had joined them, stood beside her with a crystal goblet in her hands. "I have no idea, but I bet you anything it pertains to you somehow."
She may have scoffed at that notion, but her friend happened to be correct. Before dinner, one of the Pages arrived with a note addressed to the Princess. On a silver serving platter, the missve was presented. She, Dot, and Paisley all looked at each other. Mary took it and read it. "It's an invitation inviting me to dinner in the gardens. It says to dress nicely." Placing it down on the side table, she turned to her friends.
"As if you would dress anything less. Let's go pick out a dress for you to impress your Prince with," Dot declared. She and Paisley rose and took Mary's hands, pulling her into the bedroom. Dress after dress was laid out on the bed until a beautiful shoulder-baring one was found.
A hand raised to her stunned mouth. "I didn't even know I owned this. It's shoulder-baring and low on the bosom. I could not possibly wear it. People will talk about me."
Both of her friends laughed. It was Paisley who responded. "People already talk about you. At least give them something to talk about." She held the dress out to her.
Taking the black beauty in her hands, she admitted, "You're right. I should wear this. I mean, it's for dinner with my husband anyways. I shouldn't care what anyone else thinks." And so they began helping her get ready.
With the dress firmly in place, they styled her hair. A gorgeous pearl headpiece was added for effect. Her sun-kissed auburn hair was worn in loose waves down her back. Since the dress covered her arms with sheer fabric, a long diamond necklace was worn instead of bracelets. The finishing touch was another spritz of her signature fragrance. Now she's ready. "How do I look?"
A huge smile formed on Dot's and Paisley's fair faces. They smiled at each other and said together, "Like a Princess." The girls walked with their Princess through the palace. Of course, the black, embellished, off-shoulder dress garnered many looks. But they all three walked with a purpose. Once they reached the garden doors, they opened them and gasped.
Torches had been lit and scattered all around the perimeter. The palace servants had been lined up on the steps leading to the garden, with rose petals directing the path down to the middle. A small table stood there, where the birthday celebration had been hours earlier. But that's not all; the palace musicians sat off to the side. It is truly a gorgeous display.
The best part is Charles standing at the bottom of the steps holding out his hand to her. His eyes radiated the love in his heart. Giving her a gentle push, Dot whispered, "Go on." So she did. She stepped out and began walking to him.
Taking his hand, as she had done at the lake, he led her to the table. The servants served them dinner. It started with a steak, fig, and blue cheese salad followed by a delicious crab and lobster dish served with potatoes, soufflé, fall vegetables, and a dessert of raspberry jam cake. While the food is delicious, the company and conversation are even better.
Then he did something he loathes doing; he danced with her. It was just the two of them on a miniature version of the ballroom dance floor, which just happened to be the stone terrace. They danced, and he sang for her ears only as well. The funny thing is, unknown to them, many couples and singles were watching the pair from inside the palace. Those gossips from earlier were among them, wishing they had what the Princess has— someone who loves them.
As Charles twirled her into his chest, he bent her back into a kiss. Pulling her up, his hand started at her right shoulder and ran down the length of her arm. It stopped at her hand. Brining it up to his lips, he spoke. "Have I told you the story of the un-Royal Prince and the Pretty Princess?"
She shook her head no with a bright smile on her face. Looking deep into her blue eyes, he stated, "Well, I need to remedy that. It goes something like this. Once upon a time (because all fairy tales start that way), there lived a Duke who married the most beautiful woman he's ever laid eyes on. And guess what?"
Playing along, in an interested voice, she asked, "What?"
They started dancing again. "She was a Princess. And not too long after they wed, her father (the King) bestowed upon this rather handsome Duke the title of Prince. The roguish Prince and pretty Princess grew in distinction and love together. They had a mess of children, and then the best part of all happened."
Dancing with him, she asked again, "What happened?"
He chuckled. "Why, Sweetheart don't you know? All fairy tales end with they lived happily ever after. And that's what happened with this Prince and Princess. They lived happily ever after in their Welsh palace, their Cardigan Castle, and their new ridiculous manor home by the sea aptly named La Mer."
With the stars in her eyes, she leaned into him. "Of course they did."
Then he stopped dancing and grew very serious. "Mary, I promised you a fairy tale, but truly our own fairytale is not finished yet. We're still living it. Ours is the capacity to craft a life together with that special someone that all fairy tales have. And also like fairytales, ours has true love."
Her eyes grew moist. "You have the ability to render me a pile of mush. I think you should write romance novels."
Shaking his head no, he explained, "I don't want to write them. I'd much rather live them with you. You're my great romance, and our life is our fairy tale. So with that in mind, don't the prince and princess ride off into the sunset on a horse?"
His perfect eyebrow raised, and he clapped his hands. His palace horse was brought out to him saddled and ready to ride. Now she raised her eyebrows at this, to which he replied, "Have a little faith in me. Now, come here, Darling." He lifted her onto the horse with ease. Before he took off to who knows where she whispered in the dark, "I have lots of faith in you, My Prince." He smiled and rode through the gardens down to one of the luxurious guest cottages.
The guest cottages are exquisite and exclusive. They are far removed from the traffic of the palace and quite secluded. When he stopped and gave the horse to his squire, he told the young man to be back with it in the morning. Then turning to his wife again, without warning, he picked her up and carried her inside. The servants of the cottage bowed and left out the front door. He took her to the bedroom, where rose petals were sprinkled everywhere, even on the bed coverlets. Candles had been lit, and the fireplace was aglow.
He let her get down from his arms. She stood in front of him while he affectionately caressed her face. "You're my Princess. You're my true love. You only get one of those in life. So this is my way of loving you and spoiling you. Life isn't always a fairy tale, and it's not perfect. But it does overcome obstacles and challenges and fight for truth and love. Love is work and never letting go because it's worth it. It's all worth it because of that special someone. Like I told you yesterday, you're it for me. You're my special someone. I hope I succeeded in pulling you out of your moods."
Pulling his face down to hers, she told him. "You're worth it too, you know? You're my true love, and I'm so proud to call you my husband. I love you, Charles Brandon." Then she took his hand and led him to the bed. Last night he ravished her, but it's her turn to return the favor. Except she didn't ravish him, she loved him slowly— unhurried, intimately, and completely. She laid him bare- body and soul.
His naked emotions are as handsome as his naked body. Locking eyes and lacing hands, they formed an intimacy that only others dream about. One so intense their souls merged, and he cried. Much healing took place that night— of the heart and the mind. Things were knitted back together inside of them and redressed better than before.
Holding both of his hands, her shaky voice admitted, "You said have a little faith in me, well if the whole world should crumble and fall all around me. I won't cry or be afraid as long as you stand by me. And if I should have a little faith in you, then you should stand by me."
His eyes are clouded over with tears. "Oh, My Love, I'm right by your side. Even if I can't see where I'm going, I'll stand by you through hell or high water. I'm never letting you go." He pulled her into a sweet, tender, perfect kiss.
After that night, the two of them continued to live in their love bubble. Throughout the palace, they'd share ardent, besotted looks of devotion. Even when he was in meetings of the state, he found himself thinking of her only. It had been like this when they first wed, and now it's happening again. Love is alive and well between the Prince and Princess. It seems like nothing could bring them back down to earth.
Even Anthony commented on it. One day he took Charles aside and told him, "Look, Man, could you stop putting us normal men to shame? I mean, not all of us have the ability to woo and wow our spouse. It's sickening, and I, for one am tired of hearing, But the Prince did this." Charles only smirked in that roguish way of his.
In late October, the Queen went into labor. Charles was called upon to keep His Majesty company. "Let me know when you have word of the baby," Mary requested of him. He told her he would.
"If you need me for anything, I'm just on the other side of the palace in your father's chamber. Love you." Then he kissed her bye.
As he walked, he smiled and whistled. He does a lot of both lately, all because he's pleased. People say it's good to be the King, but he disagrees. It's good to be the Prince. In the King's chambers were the Seymour men, Anthony, the King, and now himself. "Charles! Come! Have a toast. The Prince of the kingdom is about to be born." A goblet of wine was thrust into his hand.
His hand clenched around the glass. The last time he drank wine was after the rebellion. His heart sped up thinking about it. Turning to look out the nearly dark window, he caught his breath. How could he refuse the King?
Turning around, he asked, "Majesty, I am elated for you and happy to share this occasion. But I wonder if I could have tea or none alcoholic mead? I've been trying to cut back as the doctor says I should." Which is not a lie. Doctor Pearce told him he should lay off the drink for a while, until he could get his bearings straight. And he told himself he would only drink in his wife's presence because she'd help him.
Eyeing his longtime friend, Henry asked the servant for nonalcoholic mead. The servant went right away to fetch a pitcher of it. When he returned, all the men in the room had a toast. As the night wore on, Henry and Charles played chess. It resulted in the Prince winning, taking his friend's mind off what was happening in the Queen's room.
Little did they know they would be playing chess forever, it seemed. She labored for two days and three nights. During that time, Charles slept very little and didn't shave. Mary told him he was scruffy, but she rubbed her cheek on it regardless. "It makes you all the more deliciously handsome, like Sir Thomas the devilish highwayman in The Robber At Dawn."
He swore he saw stars from how high up he rolled his eyes. One day he's going to be her highwayman and forge that rubbish from her mind too. When he returned to the King's room, he took his place beside him. The other men from before, trickled in throughout the day. At two in the morning, word finally arrived.
Lady Rutland came out with tears and announced "The long-awaited Prince is born, Your Majesty. But the Queen did make it. The labor was hard and strenuous. She did the best she could, but she died giving birth."
The King lept to his feet and rushed into the Queen's room. He had his heir at the cost of his wife. A loud sob was heard, not from a baby but from a distressed man. Charles did his best to console his friend. He went back to his wife and let the Seymour's grieve along with His Majesty.
In his chambers, he laid down on the bed. Mary laid beside him. He explained what had happened. "Oh, my poor father. He must be distraught to sob like that," she pondered aloud.
The whole castle was in mourning. For two days, everything was sad. At breakfast on the third day, Mary sat on her husband's lap. They were happy in their rooms but had the decency to look sad and wear black outside. She was kissing his cheeks when Secretary Cromwell burst through the door.
The man all but shouted, "He's dead. The babe is dead. Come! You must help His Majesty. He needs you, Charles."
Raising a hand to her mouth, Mary wept. Charles, thanking the Lord he was dressed, kissed his wife's forehead. "I need you to be strong and take care of the children. If I'm not back soon, you'll see me tonight. I'll be with him." Then he left with Cromwell, unsure of what he was walking into.