Chapter Three:
The Treasure of France
Hampton Court, Surrey
Chuck stood in front of his mirror as a servant to his left fit him for his newest clothes. He was preparing to take leave though he would rather not. It was his duty as the Prince of England to be active in all royal matters, including such a prestigious treaty. However, Chuck found himself more concerned with outdoing, Francois I, King of France, than any political matters. His father may have decided he was high above rivalry, but Chuck was most certainly not. He loathed France by birthright and there came no exception to their ruler, whom was not too much older than he.
"His Grace, Duke Nathaniel Archibald," the servant at the doors announced, beating his staff against the floor. The doors then opened and a path was cleared for him.
Nate came into the room and locked eyes on Chuck. He smiled, slightly amused. His friend was clearly already preparing to make a statement on behalf of England when they met France.
"Nathaniel, come closer. I want your most honest opinion," Chuck called out. His voice held a haughty tone that immediately signified that Nate, although his friend, better answer as he wanted him too.
"Your Highness looks most handsome. I have never seen such fine cloth in this court before. Do tell me where you got them," Nate returned in a teasing manner. He stepped up next to Chuck and met his eyes in the mirror.
Chuck laughed, Nate joining him, and turned to the servant. "You are dismissed. Have this made up before we leave," he ordered.
"Yes, Your Highness," the servant agreed with a bow. He then gathered his things and left to do the prince's bidding.
"What jewels shall you to wear?" Nate asked next. He leaned up against the wall by the mirror since Chuck was still admiring himself.
Chuck turned to view his side and smirked in the most vain of fashions. "Only the best England has to offer, which will and always shall be better than France's. Francois will be blinded with jealousy," he replied.
"Awe, but what if he holds a greater treasure than you?" Nate challenged, just to tease Chuck. He was perhaps the only person on the planet who could.
"There is no greater treasure than my mere presence," Chuck expressed, winking at Nate. He walked over to a servant holding a tray and took the glass of wine from it. "Besides, I have been assured he will have nothing greater to give than I and my father."
"Well I am only honored that his Royal Highness, my best mate, has requested I accompany him on this mission," Nate told him with the upmost gratitude. His father had tried to advise him to stay behind, but like always he went behind all other's backs to Chuck who would give him what he wanted. It had been that way since they were boys.
"Of course. Now, let's eat," Chuck nodded. He then walked into the next room, Nate following, and stopped in front of a table set with the most delicious of food and wine. He plucked some meat from the silver plate and took a seat at the head of the table.
"Have you obtained the information I requested?" he inquired. His eyebrows rose as he waited for an answer and looked to his friend.
"Yes, I sought it from a servant who sits in on all of my father's meetings. And I think you shall quite enjoy what I have to tell you," Nate nodded as he sat down beside the prince.
"Then do tell it, Nathaniel," Chuck encouraged though it came as more of a demand. He leaned back in his seat and took a long drink of wine.
"Your Highness, the King, and the rest of the English Court shall camp at Guines, across from us, Francois and his Court will reside at Ardres. Then we shall meet in the middle in a place called Val d'Or, the Valley of Gold," Nate explained.
"Yes, this I knew. Do get to the point," Chuck interrupted.
Nate smiled, "I was just about to, Your Highness. You see, in the Valley of Gold more than a thousand labors have constructed a palace. It has been named the Palace of Illusions. Those who have seen it are already calling it the eighth wonder of the world. And it was your father who commissioned it in your name, which Francois is very well aware of."
"I suddenly can't wait for the summit," Chuck smirked.
"I thought you would say that. Now if only it were on better, more rewarding terms. I know there is nothing you want from France, but in fact only persons you wish to dispose of," Nate sighed. He reclined back in his chair as well.
Chuck nodded with pursed lips, staring down at his royal ring. It was the Prince of England's ring. There was only one. But that was about to change, along with everything. England would never be the same again after the treaty was signed and his future stepmother and stepbrother were welcomed to court. And for reasons unknown, Chuck suspected he wouldn't be either.
XOXOXOXOXO
Val d'Or
English Occupied France
The brisk, refreshing air hit Chuck's face at maximum speed as he followed along, horseback, with his father and whomever in the English Court were to attend the blessed treaty signing. He narrowed his eyes, biting down hard on his lower lip, and pushed his body forward. His horse picked up speed and he was once more at his father's side. Others noted his efforts and out of both fear and respect fell back some.
"Halt!" Bart's voice sounded over the powerful wind. His horse came to an abrupt stop at the top of a very steep hill.
Chuck pulled on his reins, forcing his horse to skid into a stop. His body jerked forward, but he caught his balance. A loud breath of relief came from his lips and he turned to see his father who had luckily not been watching, but gazing forward. Naturally, he followed the gaze.
Below the hill they resided on, a good distance off, laid the valley. It was overtaken with sprinkles of blue, red, white, and brown—the tents of French residents. Front and center, rested the Palace of Illusions. In blatant terms, it was nothing short of magnificent.
"Val d'Or," Bart introduced, hand extended out towards the view. He turned towards his son then, actually sparing the smallest of smiles. "The Valley of Gold, Charles."
"It is indeed grand, but what if Francois and the French Royal Court do not show? I see no sign of them anywhere," Chuck returned, kinking his eyebrows. Secretly, he hoped for their absence.
"They'll show, Charles. Only unfortunately like us Englishmen the French have no recognition of common courtesy. Arriving late to such an event to them signifies attention and therefore importance," Jack asserted in a rigid tone. With already pursed lips, he merely rolled his eyes at the sight of the Valley and all it stood for.
Chuck immediately released a hearty laugh, as reflex to such an insult of any other information. When he saw the look on his father's face though, it died much quicker than it was born.
From the Prince's side though, Nate grinned, "Forgive me, Your Highness. It is only that I do not think you are one to poke fun at belated persons."
Jack snorted a chuckle at that, but covered it by bringing his hand to his lips and pretending to cough.
"Ah Nathaniel, your wit—or rather lack of it has always been so amusing to me," Chuck returned with a sarcastic smirk.
"The French have arrived. Just look beyond the opposite side of the valley, up on the second hill," Bart announced, pointing to his spoken directions. He then gripped his reins once more, ready to move things along.
"What's the plan, Your Majesty? Who shall go first?" Chuck asked, looking to his father. He figured since they were providing accommodations that it was only natural they would.
"No one, Charles. I am to ride down alone and meet with King Francois in the middle. From there, the rest of each company can join us," Bart informed him, meeting his eyes.
Chuck shook his head. "You mean I am not to go with you? I am the Prince of England. Francois is only a few years older than I?" he questioned through means of protest.
"You are the Prince, but I am the King, Charles. We cannot risk insulting Francois by introducing someone of lower rank at first meeting if he does not do so as well. You will stay here and ride down with the rest of our Court," Bart replied. He turned forward again and nodded his head in a serious fashion.
"Someone of lower rank? I have higher rank than his whole God damn country! You are letting him outwardly insult me!" Chuck spat. His nostrils flared and the anger built in the pit of his stomach.
"No, I am letting him give you a lesson in humility, which by this tyrant you have proved to be in need of. Now, you and no one else will move from this spot on pain of death. Do I make myself clear?" Bart asked. His volume did not raise, but the strength in it did.
Chuck scoffed, "Yes, we do. And with that I have only one more objection." He waited until his father reluctantly nodded for him to continue. "What if they have means to assassinate you, Your Majesty?"
Bart turned towards him and smiled condescendingly. "Then I shall be happy to know my heir waited up here, as instructed. After all, he is so close in age to the King of France. A fine match of rivals if I do say so myself."
Several men began to laugh, among them Jack and Nate the loudest, as Bart bowed to his son and rode forward. Chuck, on the other hand, had tightened his grip on his reins to such a degree that his palms became red.
"Relax Chuck, one day you shall be King. Then you may do as you wish," Nate sighed, addressing him less formally now that Bart was gone. He patted his friend on the back.
"If the King does not allow France to claim England first with matters of peace," Jack added disdainfully. He glared down at the sight of his elder brother and the King of France now across from each other, greeting in harmony.
Chuck was doing the same thing until he heard Jack. He turned, frowning as if taken off guard, and stared at his uncle for a moment. Could there be any truth to his words? Surely, Chuck did not like the French or agree with his father's methods, but Bart had also taken so much time in perfecting the legacy on which he would bestow to Chuck. To lose it all in the end to the bloody French would be hell on earth.
"They're riding in, side-by-side. We may go forth now," Nate spoke up, breaking the Prince's inner thoughts.
Dropping back into reality, Chuck looked forward once more and saw what his friend proclaimed to be true. He grinded his teeth in slight pause and then kicked his feet against the sides of his horse. It drove onwards, taking him to the Palace of Illusions.
XOXOXOXOXO
Chuck sighed with great irritation as the trumpets sounded with full blast. Slowly, he stepped onto the beginning of the grass aisle. He saw his father and King Francois seated at a grand table down at the end of it. Gathered all around were the members of the English Court on one side, and the French Court on the other.
He was just about to make his introduction when he felt someone tug on the leg of his pants. His eyes dropped down, body slightly turned, and he saw a young boy wearing a crown.
The boy smiled at him and bowed. "Prince Charles, I am the Dauphin of France—Prince Philippe," he introduced, putting a hand to his chest.
Chuck looked around, immediately to his father. He gave Bart a look that read you cannot be serious. His father only returned a stern one though that clearly stated I am. He scoffed, glancing at Prince Philippe once more. Chuck was the Prince of England and they were introducing him with a mere child.
"Will you not tell me your name? Or do you not know how to speak? I speak perfect French and English," Prince Philippe informed him. He actually managed to turn his nose up at the man beside him.
"Moi aussi, Prince Philippe. Je préfère juste ne pas le faire," Chuck returned with an arrogant smirk. He then too put a hand to his chest. "I am Prince Charles, the true and only Prince of England, Ireland, and—believe it or not—some of your precious France." He winked at him and stood back up, the grin stretched across his face far more grand than before.
"Bloody brat," he muttered under his breath.
They then walked in union down the way and stopped in front of their fathers. Chuck's eyes immediately met with Francois's though. He knew right away that the King of France was well aware with how displeased the Prince of England truly was.
"King Bartholomew, may I introduce my son, the Dauphin of France, Prince Henry Philippe," Francois introduced, motioning between the King of England and his son.
"Your Majesty," Prince Philippe said with a bow.
"Your Highness, what a pleasure," Bart smiled, bowing his own head. He turned to the King of France. "And King Francois, may I introduce my son, Prince Charles of England." He extended his hand between the two men of near age.
"Cousin," Chuck said simply. He bowed his head and motioned towards Francois. His voice was not condescending, but short.
Francois paused for a moment, but alas nodded. "Cousin," he returned, much slower, and with a knowing smile. He knew that Chuck had not meant to intimately address him, but in fact insult him. However, he refused to let it get to him.
"Prince Charles and Prince Philippe, will you please each take a seat by your father's, Their Majesty's, so we can begin the ceremony?" Cardinal Wolsey asked, stepping in before things got carried away. He was well aware and equipped to deal with Chuck's antics.
"Of course," Chuck returned. He and Philippe both bowed once more and then sat on opposite sides of the table, both directly next to their father's.
The trumpets sounded again and the Royal Announcer of the English Court stepped forward, clearing his throat. "Hear ye! Hear ye! I Bartholomew, by the grace of God King of England, Ireland, and France do hereby—"
"Stop," Bart called out suddenly. He looked out on the now anxious crowd, but only smiled. "During this summit, I am only Bartholomew, King of England and Ireland."
Chuck's hand tightened around the arm of his chair and his toes curled. Of all places his father had to choose now to be charitable. Never when Chuck had misspoken or sinned, but for Francois—of course. It took all he had not to roll his eyes and spit on the French dirt.
The crowd applauded, both the English and the French. Bart turned to meet Francois's eyes and bowed his head. He had to makeup for Chuck's jab at the King of France in some form or another and it had been the perfect opportunity.
Francois gazed back out upon the crowd. "And I am just Francois, King of France and Burgundy," he told them. The crowd applauded in union, yet again.
"Your Majesties, may I ask you both to place your hands on the Holy Bible and swear before God, these princes, and lords here gathered, that you will be true, virtuous, and loving to each other?" Cardinal Wolsey asked as he stepped before both Kings, holding the Good Book in front of them.
They both set their hands on the Bible in union.
Bart made sure to have eye contact with Francois and said, "I so swear."
"Moi aussi. I swear too," Francois vowed.
Bart and Francois then rose from their seats together. They stood still, firm, and serious. A chorus of French and English members was conducted in a song of beautiful harmony.
"I ask his gracious Majesty, the King of England, to sign in good faith the Treaty of Universal and Perpetual Peace," Cardinal Wolsey declared to the crowd. He motioned down to the legal papers.
Francois gave a small smile and then signed his name in red, permanent ink. When he rose, is eye's found Chuck's. He smirked contemptuously at the Prince of England.
Chuck returned the tightest of smiles. He told himself he couldn't wait till he was King of England, if only to break the treaty with that arrogant, son of a…
"And now I ask his gracious Majesty, the King of England, to also sign in good faith the Treaty of Universal and Perpetual Peace," Cardinal Wolsey proclaimed. He stepped back and made room for Bart.
The King of England bent down, signed his name, and rose. He turned to the King of France, they shook hands, and the treaty was stamped. Everyone applauded. It was done.
XOXOXOXOXO
"How does Chuck address the King of France? He merely says, Cousin," Nate reenacted before he and the rest of the men around him burst into the loudest of laughter.
"Let us not forget he called Prince Philippe, the Dauphin of France, a bloody brat was it? I was standing near, but you were muttering, Your Highness," William added, looking to the Prince with a smile.
Chuck, who walked between all of them, rolled his eyes and chuckled. "If I were King, we would not be here, but at war with France," he looked around with distaste and continued, "the bloody bastards."
"France can not be all bad. Your stepmother is not unfortunate looking and her soon, soon to be your brother, was… polite," Nate sighed, nodding his head.
"He was boring, dreadful. I shall never call him my brother or share my crown with him. As for her, I only shall pray with gratitude tonight to our father in Heaven that she is too old to have anymore brats," Chuck retorted. He folded his hands behind his back and sighed.
"Well, is there anything you like about France, Your Highness?" Edmund inquired, hurrying to join the rest of the young men and the Prince.
"Nothing yet, Edmund. I'll admit I have seen a few French maidens I would not mind fucking, but nothing special," Chuck told them, lowering his voice. They all roared in laughter once more.
Once they quieted, William looked up at the Castle they walked alongside and squinted his eyes. "I still do not know why it is called the Palace of Illusions," he admitted.
Chuck smirked to himself and went forth. He lifted up one of the walls. "Because William, it is only painted canvas. Magnificent, is it not?" he asked, eyebrows raising.
"It was built in his Highness's name," Nate advised, nudging the other boy.
William smiled, "Of course. I am stunned by it, Your Highness." He knew, like the other boys, that if he wanted to keep his position it required kissing the royal ass every once in a while.
"Very good," Chuck returned. "Now, let us—"
"Your Highness!" Thomas Gray called, running towards them at full speed. He had just been introduced to the Prince of England, his future brother, and was supposed to accompany him around.
"He found us," Chuck muttered, rolling his eyes. He turned though, just as the other man skidded to a stop before him and bowed, out of breath.
"Your Highness, forgive me. I somehow got lost from you," Thomas told him. He smiled eagerly. "I am so happy to have found you again though, just in time for us to go inside."
"Yes, how thankful I am that Your Lordship did so," Chuck replied with the most sarcastic of tones. He turned and sighed, starting inside. "Follow me."
Nate winked at Thomas, grin smug as well, and went ahead of Thomas to be at Chuck's side—like always.
Thomas's face fell some, but he soon found himself between William and Edmund. He smiled at both of them, but lowered is voice. "Since you are close with the Prince I must admit I fear he has not taken to me," he said shyly.
William exchanged an amused look with Edmund. Then he put his arm around Thomas's shoulder and chuckled. "Fear not, my Lord. I assure you the Prince is well on his way to brotherly love for you."
"In fact, he swears to it," Edmund added before both men broke out in yet another round of chuckles. Thomas did not understand.
XOXOXOXOXO
The thrones positioned behind the Royal tables, separating France and England. King Bartholomew had opted to take a seat further down the line to sit with his now fiancée Catherine Gray, the Duchess of Somerset. He allowed for Prince Charles to sit the closest to King Francois. Then on Chuck's other side was the soon-to-be Prince, Thomas Gray.
Francois rose from his seat and the crowd silenced. He smiled, turning to both Chuck and Thomas. "And now, I would like to present two very precious gifts to Prince Charles and Lord Thomas Gray, Earl of Essex," he announced.
Chuck watched as a French servant came towards him, holding a jewel-incrusted box. It was set down on the table before him. The Prince looked to the King of France.
"You first, Cousin," Francois insisted, bowing his head.
Putting his hands on the box, Chuck stood and looked it over for a few moments. He opened it and inside some of the finest jewels he had ever seen lied against red velvet. He inhaled a sharp breath. They made the ones he was wearing look like they belonged on a peasant.
The crowd applauded and several members also whispered about the beauty of them.
Chuck looked back to Francois with a tight smile. He reluctantly bowed his head. "Cousin, you embarrass me. I have nothing for you," he admitted in the lowest of voices.
Francois smirked, "I assure you it was never my intention. In fact, forgive me, but you may be insulted when you see his Lordship Thomas's gift." He then motioned out to the crowd.
The crowd silenced as an ancient, hypnotizing music began to play. Several candles were blown out and the room darkened, but the center aisle took on a radiating glow.
Chuck frowned, sitting forward some in his seat. He saw four men enter the room, carrying an Egyptian styled bed. It was draped in a golden canopy, but as it came closer he could see the shadow of a feminine figure.
All the men in the room seemed to take awareness to what was happening the exact moment Chuck did. Not a masculine pair of eyes in the room roamed anywhere else.
The men set the bed easily down onto the ground.
Francois smiled and walked down the steps to it. He took a small peak through the draping, just to tease everyone, and then looked to Thomas.
"Come forth, my Lord," Francois beckoned.
Chuck immediately turned to look at his future stepbrother. His jaw tightened and his brow furrowed. Why was he receiving a gift like this? Thomas wasn't even the true Prince of England. He was. Thomas probably hadn't even been with a woman before. Chuck had been with many. He glared at Francois that French ass.
Thomas rose from his seat. He was finding it hard to breathe and his palms were drenched in sweat. He wiped them furiously against his pants as he stood before the bed. He knew who was inside, but that didn't stop his heart from beating out of his chest.
"May I present you with your gift, le véritable trésor de France," Francois announced. He stuck his hand inside and felt Blair grasp on. Then he gently pulled her out to stand beside him.
(English Translation: "the true treasure of France")
Chuck gasped the moment he saw her. He wasn't sure what happened to him, but he was sure he had never seen someone more beautiful than whoever she was—French or not. Her petite stature embodied a natural ladylike grace. But from there, she was mysterious. Her skin was the color of ivory, seemingly untouched by the sun's rays. Her hair was dark, darker than any girl's he had seen before, and it cascaded down her back in a way most women didn't dare. The long curls brought a spotlight to her face. Her lips stood out, a natural ruby red and her dark eyes looked out through the thickest of lashes. A man couldn't help, but be drawn to her. She was mystifying.
Thomas bowed, releasing a large and obviously strained breath.
Blair looked him up and down briefly, doing her best not to purse her lips. As before, she was anything, but impressed. When she felt Francois squeeze her arm, she reluctantly bowed before Thomas.
"La belle Blair, votre fiancée," Francois furthered with a proud grin. He then guided the hand of Blair's he held towards Thomas.
(English Translation: "The beauty Blair, your fiancée")
Chuck nearly choked on the air he breathed. His fiancée? That imbecile was getting the treasure of France as his fiancée? He found himself ready to bare his teeth he was so angry over the matter.
"Lady Blair," Thomas breathed. He took her hand and kissed it, bowing once more. Then he moved closer than he had ever been to her. His body felt like it had been set on fire when her warmth transmitted onto him.
"My Lord Thomas," Blair returned, sparing him the smallest of smiles.
A strange feeling sparked and fluttered in the pit of Chuck's stomach. The room was dead silent and she had finally spoken. Her voice had not disappointed, but teased him all the more. He wanted her to say something else. He craved to order that idiot Thomas to shut up and command the Lady Blair speak instead.
Francois laughed, "Well do not be shy, boy. This is France. You may greet her the way we show love here. She will be your wife after all."
Blair's eyes widened and she turned to glare at Francois. She could not believe he had just suggested, no—he had encouraged that English chump to kiss her. She quickly accepted it though when Francois shook his head and disapproval and warned her to behave with his eyes.
Chuck almost stood up. Had she just glared at the suggestion of Thomas kissing her? Did she not want him to kiss her? No, he was just hoping it. But since when did the Prince of England have to hope for anything? Still, it would be too good to be true, right?
Thomas nodded and swallowed a lump in his throat. He took small steps towards Blair, careful not to stumble. Then he closed his eyes and moved forward to kiss her.
Blair was all about ready to vomit. Sure he was not disagreeable in looks, but he was English. She was thinking about running for it when she felt a pair of dark eyes burning into the side of her face. It was strange because she never felt such an intense gaze upon her before. Rather than meet Thomas's lips, she turned and felt them crash into her cheek. But that was barely noticeable when she locked eyes with another.
Chuck thought for a moment he had died. She was looking directly at him, into his eyes. There was no denying it. She had turned, to avoid meeting Thomas's lips and met his eyes instead. He parted his lips as if to say something, but then realized she would not hear him.
A breath came from Blair's lips and she felt her heart tighten. She stared into eyes as dark as night. A chill ran down her spine and she shivered. But whom did these moonless pools of passion belong to? She concentrated on his other facial features, hoping to recognize him. His skin was like marble, and his face sculpted. His jaw was prominent and it led to very defined cheekbones. A prominent brow rested upon his eyes though, those captivating, but terrifying eyes.
"Have I insulted you, Lady Blair? Please forgive me," Thomas whispered frantically into her ear. She wasn't looking at him and he feared that he had insulted her.
Those stupid words broke Blair's concentration and she turned to look at Thomas. She shook her head. "No, your Lordship. You must forgive me. I am not so used to everyone looking at me," she told him in a low voice.
Francois laughed, "A woman can never be so honest when she is flattered." He then winked at Thomas and raised his hands to the crowd. They all began to applaud for what had taken place.
Everyone clapped—well, everyone but Chuck. The moment Blair had looked away from him and back to Thomas he had never felt so insulted. How dare she apologize to someone of lower rank when he clearly wanted her attention? He scoffed and shook his head.
Bart rose from his seat and made his way down the staircase. He bowed to Blair, Thomas, and Francois. "What a generous gift, giving one of your beauties to my country and future son," he complimented.
"Your Majesty," Blair bowed. She looked up again to meet icy, but strangely not fierce blue eyes. She had expected for the King of England to be a monster, the man she blamed for her father's death, but he wasn't.
"Lady Blair," Bart returned. He then took a hand to her cheek, causing a few gasps from the English court. Their King wasn't exactly the intimate type.
"Yes, Your Majesty?" she asked. She was finding it harder and harder for him to be the cause of her father's death. Perhaps he wasn't. She knew it was someone in the English Royal family, but if not the King than who? Plus, didn't he have final order?
"Child, you just look so familiar is all. Have you ever been to my court?" Bart asked, eyebrows rising in question. There was something familiar about her that he could not place.
"I have not, your Majesty. Regretfully, my mother and I have only been able to travel to Italy, but otherwise remain in France since my father's death," Blair told him. She knew it could be a mistake and insult to bring it up, but she didn't care. She did what she wanted and spoke what she thought for the most part. It was her greatest strength and weakness.
"Your father?" Bart frowned and turned to Francois. "Who is the Lady Blair's father, your Majesty? Did perhaps he travel to France?" he requested.
Francois bit his bottom lip and looked around. He knew he should have told Blair not to bring the subject up, but had feared if he did then she definitely would. He moved closer and lowered his voice. "Lady Blair's late father was Duke Harold Waldorf. He made several trips to your Court," he revealed. He had wanted to add an, 'as you know', but decided against it. They had just sworn a peace treaty after all.
Bart suddenly turned very still. He closed his eyes for a moment. Then he regained his dignity and turned back to Blair. Of course she was Harold's daughter. She had his natural charm and wit. In only a few minutes into their meeting she had also shown that she could enact guilt on even a King, as Harold had always been able to do.
"Is there something wrong, Your Majesty?" Blair asked. Her voice was soft, but also torturing. She could see the conflict in his eyes, but did not yield to it. Instead, she welcomed it.
"Not at all, Lady Blair. I am just happy to hear that my future son has a gem of France to take back to my kingdom," Bart replied, bowing his head once more. He motioned back. "Will you please greet my future Queen, the Duchess Catherine Gray?"
Catherine stepped forward, positioning herself beside Bart. She bowed her head to her son's fiancée. "Lady Blair," she greeted.
"Your Grace," Blair rejoined, bowing her head also. She could tell though that she would not like the woman and in truth, the woman already disliked her. That caused a smirk to come to Blair's lips and she leaned onto Thomas, looping their arms. When Catherine's smile tightened, Blair only giggled at the win. Her glee was soon interrupted though when an arrogant sounding voice joined.
"Will I not have my own introduction to the Lady, Cousin?" Chuck inquired, stepping forth. He ignored Thomas completely.
Blair's eyes widened when she realized whom the voice belonged to. It belonged to him, but he was the Prince of England. Her jaw almost dropped in astonishment.
Francois faked a laugh. "Cousin, I say with the upmost sorrow she is no longer mine to introduce. Why not ask your brother, Lord Thomas?" he suggested.
"Not my brother yet," Chuck said loudly. He then turned, acting as if Thomas did not exist. He took Blair's hand in his and bowed his head, kissing it. "My Lady Blair, what a pleasure," he smirked.
Blair pulled back her hand as if he had burned her. The feel of his lips against her skin—she would not go there. She merely bowed, "Your Highness."
Chuck's mouth did fall agape. He could not believe what had just happened. Had she no interest in him? Was she not attracted to him? He felt so angry and frustrated with how she brushed him off. Yet, he was also intrigued.
"Forgive the Prince. He cannot seem to remember his manners when before a lovely lady," Bart remarked. He laughed to everyone, but Chuck—whom he glared warningly at.
"May I go and dance, Your Majesty?" Blair asked, looking to Francois. She cut into all the unnatural laugh of the group. She was blunt and impatient.
"Lady Blair, as much as you enjoy the lively atmosphere perhaps you should remember to ask permission of your future husband, but first get to know him more," Francois reminded, stressing his voice.
Blair pursed her lips in response.
"Of course you may go, Lady Blair. We have much time to speak later," Thomas intervened. He did not want to deny her of anything. He knew his words were shaky and uneven, but he couldn't help himself.
She smirked; realizing things would be easier than she thought. Her hand touched Thomas's cheek and she met his eyes. "Thank you, my Lord," Blair acknowledged. She bowed to everyone and turned to leave, but found that she almost ran into someone. She looked up and met those eyes again.
Chuck smirked, "Shall you honor me with a dance, Lady Blair?" His hand extended out. His voice was in no way humbling though, but in fact almost demanding. He wasn't actually asking a question at all.
Thomas felt his heart sink. How could he be so stupid? He should have asked her for the first dance, but then again he had two left feet.
Bart saw the look in his son's eyes. He felt a heavy weight descend onto his shoulders. When they were alone, Charles needed to be informed of a few things he was perhaps not used to hearing.
Francois and Catherine wore matching glares towards the Prince. They were each thinking, 'How dare he?'.
Blair glanced down at Chuck's hand and back to his eyes. "Forgive me, your Highness. However, I am accustomed to dancing alone in France. I find it invigorating," she declined.
Catherine gasped, putting a hand to her chest. Even though she had not approved of the invitation, Blair was still required to accept. Charles was the Prince of England after all.
Bart and Francois chuckled though. They were amused with the situation, but more so the look on Chuck's face.
Chuck's eyes narrowed and he grabbed onto Blair's hand. He moved himself forward, very close to her. "Well, then let me show you how we do it in England. After all, that is where you shall now live," he seethed.
"Ye—yes, Your Highness," Blair trembled. She closed her eyes and opened them to find him leading her towards the dance floor. His hold on her was still tight though, harsh even. She was shaken in a way, but why? It was then she realized he was the first man who had refused to accept the defeat she delivered to him. It irritated, but also fascinated her.
XOXOXOXOXO
Chuck yanked Blair into the center of the dance floor and forced her to stand before him. His hands grabbed onto her arms and ran down them to rest on her wrists. Their faces were mere inches apart, eyes locked.
He smirked, "Do you know Como Poden Per Sas Culpas, Lady Blair?" He threw her a challenging glance. It was a test, not only in her knowledge of music, but also of her reaction.
"A Volta?" Blair asked. She looked around to make sure no one was listening and turned back to him. She shook her head and lowered her voice. "Your Highness, something composed in honor of the Virgin Mary by King Alfonso X of Spain is not appropriate for us to dance to," she professed.
He let go of one of her wrists and allowed his hand to slide around her waist, to rest on her lower back. He tugged her forward, liking how control seemed to be slipping away from her the closer they got.
"Consider it a compliment. Though when you see how I dance to it, you may find it less holy of a tune," Chuck whispered. It took all he had not to kiss her neck, while under her dark curls.
Blair closed her eyes and gripped onto his shoulders. She felt his hot breath hit her neck and his words tickle her ear. So when he abruptly pulled away from her, she almost lunged forward to grab back onto him. Luckily though, her eyes opened and she restrained herself. She watched as he pulled back and raised his hand to the crowd.
"Play the Volta," Chuck ordered to one of his English violinist. Everyone in the room fell dead silent, but he only thrived off the attention. He grinned at Blair in a sinister fashion and positioned himself a few steps away from her.
The music started and Blair looked around, at first panicked. When she returned to Chuck's gaze though, she found herself calmed. She realized what he was doing. It wasn't to embarrass her, but to dare her. Well, that changed everything.
Blair smirked at Chuck and whirled around him with natural footsteps. She relished at the fact that he had no idea what he was in for. Prestigiously, she stepped before him again. By the look on his face, she already knew he was more impressed than he had anticipated he would be.
Chuck backed up and bowed in the most dramatic fashion he knew he had ever done before. He watched as she did the same, but in means to tease him. She gave him a clear view of her cleavage. He licked his lips at the sight and reached his hand up as if to touch them.
She caught on though, knowing exactly what she was doing, and smacked her hand up to grab onto his arm. She held it in place for a moment, opening her mouth to release a loud breath. Soon she let go of his arm though and twirled around him once more, grasping her dress to make the fabric liquefy like always. When she came around him, she made sure her body lightly hit against his.
He stood his ground though. Chuck refused to give her the pleasure of seeing him stumble forward. He was not a boy she could play with, push around—and she would soon see that.
Blair came towards him, but suddenly found him coming towards her. She put up her hands to take his, but instead he grabbed both of her wrists. He pushed her forward, taking the lead.
"Vous êtes une danseuse passionnée, Lady Blair," Chuck complimented. His eyes stared with intent into hers and his voice deepened, developing a desirable husky tone. He turned them and switched the push, to pulling her across the dance floor.
(English Translation: "You are a passionate dancer, Lady Blair")
She felt his hands release her wrists, but felt them then grasp her waist. She gasped, taken off guard. Quickly, she relaxed herself. On hand held onto his shoulder as the other wrapped around his neck.
"As are you, Prince Charles," Blair whispered into his ear. She smirked, throwing her head back as he spun them both around. A thrilling laugh came from her lips to show not only her enjoyment, but keep his intimacy with her at bay.
Her laugh blinded him for a moment, but he was quick to discover what she had really done. He yanked her down roughly and pushed her back, but instead of letting her fall grabbed onto her hand. He yanked her to his body again.
"I prefer Chuck, Blair," he informed her before throwing her out again. He spun her again, but held on tight not to let her fly into the crowd gathered around them. With a full turn complete, he jerked her back again.
Blair's back hit his front. She released a trembling breath as his hands positioned themselves on his waist. She couldn't see, but felt his movements, taking steps forward and back in union with him.
She smirked, "I prefer Lady Blair, Prince Chuck." She knew she had struck a nerve when he turned her back around. His eyes burned into hers as he dragged her across the floor once more.
"Are you mocking me, Blair?" Chuck emphasized.
Her arms hooked up around his neck and she pulled him her way. Blair giggled, "Of course not, Your Highness. It would be so foolish for me to mock the Prince of England." She let go of him and twirled away from his body, alone.
Chuck glared at her. He moved forward before she had finished her spotlight dance and grabbed her. He hoisted her up as if he was handing her to the heavens and began to spin.
Blair gasped, "Put me down." She felt her curls flying all around her face and her dress catching the breeze also. She yanked his neck towards her. "I said put me down, Chuck," she ordered.
He chuckled and began to drop her, forcing her to grab onto him. Chuck smirked, "Forgive me, Blair. I couldn't help myself."
She pursed her lips for a moment, but soon grinned mischievously. She danced away from him, but ran back. This time, she jumped onto him, wrapping her legs around his waist and hooking her arms around his neck.
Chuck stumbled back, but found his balance. He could not believe she had just done that, but he couldn't be happier that she did. They went round and round again, but this time he held her close so she couldn't throw her head back.
"Forgive me. I couldn't help myself either," Blair returned. She put her lips very close to his, but then turned her cheek.
He closed his eyes and had tried to kiss her neck, but felt her heel jam into his leg. He hissed and dropped her down to her feet. His hands held onto her lower back and he watched, soon forgetting the pain, as she leaned completely backwards.
The music slowed as Blair brought herself up to stand straight again. Her chest heaved up and down against his, their foreheads touched. "That was quite a dance…for an Englishman," she whispered, smiling at him.
"And you are quite intoxicating… for this Englishman," Chuck smirked, winking at her. Her smile fell and he knew he had her. He leaned in to try and steal a kiss, not caring what of the consequences.
Blair saw him coming towards her. She also realized the music had stopped. Quickly, she turned her cheek and smiled nervously at the crowd. She pulled away from him and bowed.
Chuck growled at her rejection, but heard the applause of the two Courts. He bowed for Blair as well. It was a mistake though, for when he rose to meet her eyes—she was gone.
XOXOXOXOXO
Chuck moved rapidly through the crowd with determined eyes. He didn't even nod at people who extended greetings and bows to him. They didn't matter, only she did. He wasn't sure what had come over him, but only that he needed to find her. The way she danced with him, the feeling he got when she touched him, when she spoke to him—it was too much yet he wanted more of it.
He felt someone touch his back and whipped around to see if it was she. Of course though, it wasn't. He should have known. It was not her touch, but that of a male's. For the first time in his life he wasn't happy to see Nathaniel.
"That was some dance. Your father, the King, is furious and poor Thomas spent the entire time complimenting you both with excuses," Nate remarked with an amused grin. He patted Chuck on the back.
Chuck pulled away from his hand. His eyes searched the crowd again. "I shall deal with my father later and I do not care what that halfwit had to say," he muttered.
Nate frowned, noticing a change in Chuck. How was it within mere minutes his friend was suddenly so different? He turned the other man towards, forcing the Prince to meet his eyes.
He smiled, "She was very beautiful, even if she was French. Perhaps I could tell both you and Thomas what she's like in bed." The test Nate was bestowing soon had results, when Chuck grabbed onto him roughly.
"Do not go there," Chuck warned, shaking his head. "This one is mine." He couldn't believe how such a possessive instinct had formed over Blair. His conquests were disposable, but she was different. He didn't know why, but only that she was.
Nate's eyes widened, some shocked. He shook his head and laughed nervously. "Do you not mean Thomas's?" he jested.
"No, I mean she is mine. Do not test me with this, Nathaniel. For if you do, it will be the first time in your life you bear consequences. Understand?" Chuck threatened. His left eyebrow rose and his nostrils flared.
"Yes, Your Highness," Nate mumbled. He was let go of and stumbled back, but caught himself at the last second. Still, it felt as if he was pushed to the ground. He stared at Chuck, going in search of her again. Sure Lady Blair was gorgeous, but she wasn't worth fighting over. A bad feeling came over him. Nate decided that the Lady Blair was trouble for him, and for everyone else, especially Chuck.
XOXOXOXOXO
Blair tossed and turned, kicking the fur covers off of her. She groaned and sat up. Her hands ran through her curls in a frustrated fashion. She looked around the dark room set up for her in the Palace of Illusions. It was temporary, thank God. The thought that led to, didn't bring her any sort of relief. She was leaving her beloved France for England tomorrow. Her fate had been sealed, but she still wanted nothing more than to break it.
"Ma Lady, y-a-t-il quelque chose qui ne va pas?" her French lady in waiting asked, rising from her small cot in the corner. She came over to Blair with concern on her face. It wasn't like she could sleep with all her unsettling movements.
(French Translation: "My Lady, is something wrong?")
"Non, je suis seulement agitée, c'est tout," Blair returned, shaking her head. She didn't know what was wrong with her. Every time she tried to go to sleep she heard his voice, felt his touch. Chuck was just as frustrating in dream form as he was in real life. She rolled her eyes. Why was she even allowing herself to think of him in the first place?
(English Translation: "No, I am just restless is all")
"If that is all then I bid you goodnight again, my Lady," the other girl sighed, interrupting her master's thoughts.
Blair's head snapped up. "No—no, you shall not. Fetch my robe, girl. I wish to get some fresh air with hopes that when we return I can then find slumber," she told her.
The servant's shoulders slumped and she proceeded to drag her feet to Blair's bureau. "If you insist—"
"I do. Now stop acting like this isn't what you're here for," Blair spat, raising her voice. She hoped if anything that England had more obedient help.
The girl quickly fetched the robe and presented her. "Pardonnez-moi, ma Lady." (English Translation: Forgive me, my Lady")
Blair only snatched it from her arms though and put it on herself. She wrapped it around her tightly and sighed, not wasting anymore time as she left the room. She heard her maid follow behind her.
They walked a little while, but hadn't yet ventured outside as planned. Instead, Blair found herself turned down another hallway. She stopped in front of a door where guards had fallen asleep outside. It took great restraint for her not to snort a laugh.
"Lady Blair, we should not be here. These are Prince Charles' quarters," her lady in waiting whispered frantically as she reached to hold onto her.
Blair pushed her back and listened. She wanted to see if he snored, perhaps to taunt him for it later. However, she heard something quite different. From his room, the sound of moans and screams emerged.
"Ma Lady, je vous en pris. Nous savons tous les deux ce qui se passe ici," the girl begged again. She was nearly driven to tears when Blair not only didn't listen, but moved forward and pulled the curtain back to peer in.
(English Translation: "My Lady, please. We both know what is going on in there")
She didn't know what she was doing. Blair indeed was aware of what Chuck was doing of course, but that should have made her run. Yet she found herself drawn closer, wanting to see inside. It sounded disgusting, but it wasn't. She didn't want to see him having sex, but only how he had it. Her virgin curiosity had sparked and she couldn't help herself. She was in no way prepared for what she would see.
Chuck had a voluptuous brunette pushed up against the end of his bed, her bent over. They were both completely nude. He was pumping into her fiercely, his front hitting her bottom again and again. The clash of skin was almost as loud as the moans and screams from both their lips.
"How does it feel? How does it feel to have the Prince of England's massive cock ripping you apart?" Chuck demanded, yelling at the girl. He quickened his pace and pushed her harder into the bed.
The girl cried out, actually feeling more hurt than pleasure.
Blair felt her heartbeat quicken and her breathing became uneven. She was sinning, beyond comprehension. The sight though, she couldn't turn away. The sight of Chuck, sweating and rasping as he pounded the girl into the bed was so wrong, but so enthralling.
"Tell me! Have you nothing to say to me now, now that you have been dominated by a real man?" Chuck laughed in the most nefarious of ways. He stopped for a second and then thrust into her deeper than before.
"Please," the girl screamed.
A frown came to Blair's brow. What was he talking about? She had never seen sex before of course, but something wasn't right. The girl he was with had to have experience. From what she had heard about Chuck, what did he care if she had anything to say? It didn't make sense.
"You can't be in control here, can you? You'll never be in control again. All you'll want, all you'll crave is for me to fuck you again and again. Isn't that right, Lady Blair? Isn't that what you want?" Chuck growled, getting even rougher with the girl.
"Oh my God," Blair gasped, putting a hand to her chest. Her heart had stopped and she couldn't breathe. He—he was pretending that girl was she and that he was… She shook her head.
Suddenly, both Chuck and the girl cried out in complete ecstasy. Not caring about her, he pushed her away and stumbled back. He exploded all over her back, instead of into her. The girl fell onto the bed, weeping and ashamed, but also satisfied. He was far from it though. He moved around the room and screamed in frustration.
"You're not her! It didn't work! Ahhh!" Chuck yelled.
Blair dropped the curtain back into place and moved away from his room. She stumbled into her maid. The girl took her by the arm and dragged them both away from there.
"This is not good. My Lady, you must stay away from him. Please," the maid pleaded, speaking in a hushed, but frantic voice.
"He wants me," Blair acknowledged, staring forward into space. In her mind she could still see him. She saw how badly he waned that girl to be her.
The other girl stopped and frowned, confused with Blair's words. She sighed, "Yes, that is why you must try and avoid him. No good can come from you furthering his want, my Lady."
"Are you sure?" Blair asked. She smiled to herself. "I dare say if I pushed him far enough he'd do anything for me, wouldn't you?" She looked to her maid.
The girl shook her head. "I do not understand."
Blair smirked, "Then let me ask a simpler question. If you could not be a Queen in France, why settle to be a Princess of England when you could be Queen?"
"Lady Blair, I think you need to lie down," her maid responded. She was still confused, but didn't like the wicked smile her maiden had developed.
She ignored her servant, but pushed past the girl. Walking to her chambers, her thoughts began to run faster and faster. She couldn't have love, but she could have power. Fate hadn't let her down, but was in fact now presenting another option. She had a choice of which destiny she wanted. She chose.
"Destined to be Queen," Blair breathed. She nodded, closing her eyes. It was done. She knew what she wanted and she decided to do whatever it took to get it—no matter the consequences.
XOXOXOXOXO
A/N: So how was it? Also huge thanks to both my beta, VanillaLatte086, and my translator, Rolling09.