Chapter Twelve:
Blood Ties and Bastards
Laugharne Castle, South Wales
Cold, blue eyes stared down at the wedding invitation in Jack's gloved hands. He knew his brother had only invited him with formality and the people in mind. No doubt he would be permitted a few nights in London and then sent on his way, back to a place more boring than a nunnery. He rolled his eyes, crumpling the papers in hand, and dropping them to the floor of his lavish carriage.
Three loud and firm knocks on the door interrupted his past thoughts. "Your Grace, we have arrived at Laugharne Castle. Though by the looks of it I do not believe they are expecting us."
Jack opened the door abruptly, pushing the speaking servant aside. Instantly he felt the cold wind from the sea hit him and brought his coat around him in response. He shook his head. "They need know not of when I come or go. I can still do as I please in this place," he muttered bitterly.
"Ye—yes, your Grace. I shall have them open the gates." The other man excused himself, going to the door of security with quick pace.
Remaining in his spot, still a good ways away from the castle, Jack looked up at it. It was nothing like Hampton Court or Whitehall, pitiful really. It was stone, small in his eyes, and had an over looming feeling of darkness and doom he couldn't shake. His gaze caught on a window in one of the taller towers and he saw dark eyes staring down onto him. Then the shadowy figure turned away, fleeing from him and most likely the light.
"Your Grace! They welcome you in!" the servant called, looking at him eagerly.
Jack nodded, picking up his pace to enter the castle's surrounding walls. "Very well. Bring in just enough luggage and prepare the carriage for leave tomorrow." He barked his orders and skipped all pleasantries, making his way to the desired quarters. Pushing open the door, he frightened two maids and the head woman of the house.
"Your Grace!" The elder woman bowed instantly, the two younger following her. She put her hand to her chest, breathing harshly from the scare. "We did not know of your visit. I would have prepared for better stay—"
"Nothing could make my short stay here even a shadow of the word," Jack returned shortly. He stopped before her. "Now, get off the floor and call on the boy. I wish to have word with him, immediately."
The woman stared at him carefully and then whispered to the two younger girls to do his bidding. She watched as Jack sat down by the dim fire and thought to choose her words carefully. "Your Grace, if I may—he is now a man."
Jack stared at the flames, his outer appearance giving no clue to the inner reaction her words had. Slowly, he looked at her. "I care not for his age, though I do know it. I only have important matters to discuss with him. The Royal Wedding for starters—"
"Your Grace, it would not be proper for someone of his standing to attend. The people know that he is—"
"A bastard," Jack answered for her. He gave a sort of sly, but darkly amused smirk. He shook his head. "The King has offered me to give him title for years. Now, I shall and then he can attend."
The woman saw the look in Jack's eyes, sensing that he was up to something. She could not object of course, without punishment, but she thought to say something.
"I have no desire to attend, father."
Jack froze, his back to the now much deeper voice than he remembered. He clenched his fists, concentrating harder than ever on the flames from the fireplace.
A gasp from the old woman followed. "Sir Draven, you do not greet someone of such rank in such an informal manner. It reflects poorly on I and my teachings—"
"I do not hold it against you," Jack said as he rose. He turned around, looking the young man in the eye with a cruel smirk. "Better men have tried to tame a beast and failed."
"Leave us, Lady Mary," Draven said through clenched teeth. He kept his intense gaze with Jack's though, never even blinking.
The elder woman nodded, bowing to the men. "Yes, Sir Draven. I shall make tea for you and his Grace." With that she left the room, though eyeing the men carefully as she went. Only God knew what could happen when the two came across one another.
As soon as the door closed, Draven held nothing back. "What do you want?" he spat. He walked round to the sitting area, throwing a pillow off of it, and reclining back. "Do not forget I long tired of your vague and erratic visits."
"I have not forgotten since you told me," Jack replied easily. He sat down in the chair across from him, smirking some. "When you were seven, I believe."
Draven scoffed, "If you were blind you might still think me seven. God knows my age is surely a mystery to you, father." He said the word with such a patronizing tone.
Jack rolled his eyes at the dramatics, only smiling sarcastically in return. "Even I know the age of my son, Draven—"
"Your unclaimed son," the younger man corrected instantly. He gripped the arms of his chair, clenching his teeth in union.
"I recognized you—"
"Such a half ass substitute only further offends me," Draven clarified, cutting him off before he even had time to defend himself. Really, he didn't see the point anyways. Jack cared nothing for him. His "father" had always made that abundantly clear and as he grew up Draven of course realized it.
Jack fell silent for a few moments, staring at the man across from him. He could have silenced him by mere rank, but he didn't. He couldn't deny to himself that Draven's response was something that would have mirrored his own if in a similar conversation. He looked him over further. Well, at least his looks didn't show the monster Jack always thought him for. He had grown up rather handsome. Draven's dark hair and eyes had been there since boyhood, but he was now tall and slender, nicely built. Jack couldn't help, but notice a resemblance to his nephew, but there were direct differences. Draven's bone structure was much more like Jack's, his nose nothing like Chuck's, and his eyes not quite as menacing either.
"Why have you come? What do you want from me now, after such time has past?" Draven broke the silence. His voice was low and his eyes remained fixated on the ground. He wouldn't look at Jack, the refusal evident now.
"I only offer you a chance to take on the stronger title of Duke and perhaps a way out of this godforsaken place," Jack explained seriously, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. He looked around the room. God, he honestly did detest the castle.
Draven chuckled, but the laugh was dry and there was a solemn shadow in his eyes.
"Not the first offer out of here, I've received. Though I wouldn't expect you to recall. You did not find her, hanging outside of her bedroom window." His eyes lifted to Jack's, locking with them.
Jack closed his eyes instantly, touching his forehead. "Now, is not the time—"
"She used her bedroom cloths, you know? Her black hair got caught in them and as the wind blew her body back and forth, scraping against the stone walls, it caused quite the dreadful mess," he furthered. "I couldn't pull her back in. You let them cut her down."
"I never gave such an order," Jack reprimanded instantly, looking at him. He stood, shaking his head, and moving closer to the fireplace. "I played no part in your mother's death. She meant nothing to me."
"A fact I am well aware of, I assure you," Draven countered easily. It was a twisted and sick way of speaking on such a topic, but customary for them.
Jack remained silent, giving him a moment to breathe. Then he walked cross the room, standing the closest to Draven he had been for a while. He looked around the room, before his eyes returned to his son. "I have come with my offer, it is within your right to accept or decline."
Draven's eyes lifted to his, a sort of sardonic look upon his face. "And if I do not, what punishment am I to receive? Shall I be locked away in this hell hole forever, a fate fit for the beast you've made me in your mind?"
"No punishment," Jack returned. His voice was low, full of breath. He cleared his throat and spoke again. "I only urge that accepting is in your best interest, indeed even more if you truly hate this place so much."
Draven stood, moving past him, and fisting one of his hands. He stared at it, as if literally weighing the options in his hands. Then he turned, shaking his head.
"What am I to do on this trip? What shall you expect from it, from me?" He wasn't a fool. He knew this was not out of the kindness of Jack's heart. His "father" wanted something and it was best they just get to it in Draven's opinion.
Jack shook his head, sighing. "I am afraid even with my longtime absence you have only still come to know me so well—"
"It is not hard to learn the ways of a villain," Draven cut in, interrupting him without the least bit look of concern while doing so.
Jack's lips thinned, but he nodded his head. He brought his hands together and moved right along with it. "You shall be my eyes and ears in the many days until I myself can attend to London. You will do what you see fit in my cause and find information I need to see it carried out."
"Your cause?" His eyebrows rose in question and he almost seemed half amused by the sarcastic smirk upon his lips.
Jack made sure the room was clear and then moved closer to Draven once more. He kept his voice low, discreet. "You know I have never seen the crown upon the proper and deserving head."
Draven scoffed a laugh, "And you think I shall help see it to yours? You have not even a proper fucking heir or wife to be queen. Yet you ask I resign my fate to the possibility of being beheaded, charge mutiny?"
"You can only be charged and executed if caught. I had thought some of you smart enough to not be," Jack countered quickly. He then shrugged. "And perhaps with the desired title I could correct past mistakes and name my heir."
"Who says you have one to name?" Draven spat. He moved away from Jack, shaking his head. "I knew you only came with self in mind."
Jack watched him, sighing. "It is not true. Believe it or not, but in the end my self-worth does reflect onto your own. And right now I am not in my brother's good graces and therefore far from any victory."
"What a fucking shame." Sarcasm dripped from his voice, but as he turned around Jack saw how serious Draven really was. He touched a hand to his chest.
"Everything you have done has put you where you are, but I—I have done nothing to be here." He looked around, then kicking a stool over and yelling. "I have been in this fucking hell, trying to be in your good graces for years, and now you come to me and ask for me to help your position?" He laughed loudly and cynically before silencing completely.
"I would rather hang myself from a bloody window."
Jack stared into his eyes for a long time and then looked away, resigning himself. He nodded, but adjusted his coat, and prepared for leave of the room.
"My offer still stands until I take leave tomorrow. If you change your mind, let word known to my guard. I will make arrangements." With that he left the room, off to lock himself in his temporary one until morning.
Draven stood alone, feeling the tension finally, but slowly start to leak out of the room. He then crossed his arms and sat back down, staring off into the distance. He wasn't really looking at anything in particular, but just staring at nothing rather. Everything was once again quiet and at least seemingly empty.
XOXOXOXOXO
Whitehall Palace, London
Blair walked along the ivy-covered walls in one of the palace's private gardens. She heard the bustling servants beyond them, everyone frantically setting up for the pre-wedding festivities. The King would marry his new Queen in a week's time and the thought made her stomach turn. This marriage would have sealed her fate, marrying Thomas, if it weren't for her present affair with Chuck. Just because she was romantically involved with the Prince though didn't entirely save her. She was playing a dangerous game and Thomas's mother becoming Queen put her all the more at risk. One wrong move and she could lose her head like—
"Don't," Blair breathed to herself. She stopped, leaning back against the wall, as her eyes closed. Her hands felt to her stomach. There was no way she'd be ready for dinner when it came round. Her nerves were too on edge. She wouldn't be able to keep a single morsel down. It would be best to retire to her chambers early.
"Is something wrong, Blair?"
Her eyes opened immediately at the sound of his voice. She stared at Chuck as he approached her slowly. Where had he come from? She didn't care. The sight of him calmed her. He did do a good job of protecting her. She had even heard him defend her to a few members at court, though always in private of course.
"You are holding your stomach." Chuck set his hands upon her waist and shook his head. "You are not with child—"
"No," Blair blurted immediately. She shook her head fiercely. "I would not do that to you, your Highness. I would not disgrace—"
"We both know it wouldn't disgrace me as it would you, but thank you." Chuck dismissed the conversation, his tone hinting he wasn't in the mood for it.
He smiled lightly, changing the subject swiftly. "Something else is wrong then?"
Blair shook her head. Her real answer would make him angry again. Chuck didn't like to hear her thoughts on the King and Queen's wedding, or how it concerned her and his much hated future stepbrother.
"Whatever it is, you can tell me. If someone has mistreated you, I will see him or her punished. I do not care who it is or what I must to say to see it done." He spoke passionately, with meaning.
"No one has mistreated me," Blair assured him. She shrugged, bringing her hand up to hold onto his arm. "I was only deciding to retire to my chambers early when you approached."
"Why?" Chuck asked. Such a response was childish in a way, but he was often childish. She wouldn't hold it against him either. It was a quality she decided all princes must have to an extent, no matter their age.
Blair parted her lips, pausing for a moment as she searched her mind for the right answer.
"If you are ill I will call on the doctor, my doctor. He is the best in all of England. I would have you see no one else."
Blair couldn't help but smile at the concern in his voice. It seemed he truly did care about her to some extent. She actually admitted inwardly she cared about him too—no, she couldn't—but she did. She pushed the thought away. It was best not to think about it so directly. She would bring it up again with herself later, when he wasn't around.
"I am not ill. You would know if I were. Will you still allow me to return to my chambers though, your Highness?" She stared up at him with faux innocent, doe brown eyes.
Chuck was about to scold her for the title when he realized what she was doing. He smirked. They both knew she was seldom so obedient to him. Blair was being playful and Chuck was always one to agree to a game.
He shook his head. "You will not return to your chambers, but to mine. I will come with you. You know I do not care to have you sleeping alone, Blair."
She laughed lightly, shaking her head as they began to walk down the path side by side.
"You speak the words of a sweet man, your Highness. I must admit your reputation I first heard upon arriving to England does not match up with your current actions," Blair teased. They both paused in their walk, turning to look at one another in union. She wondered what he was thinking when he stared at her like that.
"I am not a sweet man, Blair." Chuck captured a curl of hers between his fingertips, tucking it gently behind her ear. He smirked, leaning forth and kissing her on the lips.
"But," he breathed; pecking her lips once more, "You are my sweetheart."
XOXOXOXOXO
Laugharne Castle, South Wales
Jack sat back in the carriage, sheer misery painted cross his face. He was not happy with how this visit had turned out. However, he could not feel any more urgency to leave this dreaded place. He didn't get a wink of sleep the night before. It rained the whole night, filling the castle with musty hair and a constant thundering noise. Even the earth around the castle didn't want to be there. No wonder Draven had turned out the way he did, not that Jack would have ever raised him at his side. He didn't love Draven's mother and he hadn't wanted the boy. Now, just as he expected the bastard proved of little use. The damn boy wasn't even willing to lend Jack a hand in order to better himself. Well, let him hold his grudge here till he rotted. Jack didn't care. He'd just have to find another way into the English court. It would be difficult and dangerous, but worth the risk.
"Let us leave this godforsaken place, man!" Jack bellowed. He reached his hand outside the carriage and hit the door violently. Why hadn't they left yet? He had personally watched every item he brought loaded into an hour's time earlier.
The door of the carriage suddenly opened to reveal a very nervous looking servant.
"Your—your Grace, he is in the way. He will not move," the man explained in a shaky, high-strung voice.
Jack's eyes narrowed and he pushed the man aside. "Who? Tell whomever it is to move or strike him down—" He lost all words as he locked eyes with whom they spoke of.
Draven stood in front of the horses, blocking their path. He wore a stern gaze and his hands hung in fisted balls at his sides. By his feet were two luggage trunks. It appeared the boy had dragged them himself through the mud.
"I thought you were to stay here?" Jack's eyebrows rose in question and he allowed himself to sound quite pleased with the situation. He was—things would be much easier now.
Draven shook his head and moved forward, standing before Jack. "I will leave this place at any chance I have, even if it means having to be in your company." His voice was a sneer, making it evident how truly unhappy the sight of his father made him.
Jack shrugged, "If you do not speak, I certainly won't. Come along then." He climbed back into the carriage, but stuck his head out to yell at the servants. "Load his things!" Jack then fell back into the carriage and made him comfortable.
Draven climbed in, sitting across from him. His posture was stiff and he appeared on edge. Jack supposed it was because he hadn't been in a carriage in a very long time. Draven hadn't been permitted to leave this place since boyhood.
"You do know how to act at the English court? I know animals can only be so civilized." Jack sighed, pulling the curtains closed as the carriage took off.
Draven scoffed, "If they've put up with you, they can surely deal with me." He looked away from Jack, staring at the floor. "Not that it is any of your business, but I am rather interested to see who I still know, who knows me—"
"They will know you, as my bastard. Do not forget your place while there, Draven." Jack's voice sounded with warning and by the look on his son's face, he knew it had taken him off guard. "You will also not forget your cause."
"The only cause I have is my own, Jack. You will not forget that," Draven spat. Then with a strong nod, he looked away.
Jack studied him for a few more moments, not bothering to argue further. He didn't care to admit it, even to himself, but perhaps even though absent Jack had passed a few of his own ways onto his son. He shuddered at the thought.
XOXOXOXOXO
Whitehall Palace, London
"You are not to compete in the games, your Grace?" Blair asked, sparing a side look in Nate's direction. They were the only two to so far be seated, at least in short lengths of each other. Chuck, the Prince of all importance, had yet to arrive.
Nate stared out at the sands, though his gaze did linger to the woman beside him. He found it hard to let her hidden insults pass him. He shook his head, sighing.
"You are a woman if there ever was one, Lady Blair."
Her eyebrows rose and she stifled a giggle.
"Why thank you," she told him, pleased with the insult. She then leaned over towards him. "You are but a fool of a man if there ever was one, Nathaniel—"
"Not as much the fool as your fiancé," Nate countered, glaring at her. He cast a look to Thomas, off by his mother at her throne, though his face stayed mere inches apart from Blair's.
"How does one call himself a man and not sense when his woman is being royally fucked by the Prince of England himself?" He kept his voice low, but with meaning.
Blair kept quiet for a long while and then shook her head, feeling short of breath. "You know nothing, your Grace—"
"What a beautiful day for good games and even better wine."
Nate and Blair both turned, looking back to the owner of the foreign voice. She smiled, though fumbled by who the man was. Then she spared a laugh, all for show to ease the previously tense moment.
"Sir Draven, one did not think to see you here," Nate proclaimed, stunned by the presence of Jack's bastard.
Draven smirked, taking his seat behind Nathaniel and the mysterious maiden beside him. He leaned forward, touching the back of her chair, and allowing his fingertips to trail across her back.
"And I did not think to see you in the company of such a stunning creature. May I ask this eloquent maiden's name?"
Blair turned around, surprised by the touch, but beamed at the compliment. "This Lady can speak for herself, and her name is Blair," she answered. She had no intent to make way with him, but was only flirtatious in nature.
He leaned closer to her, reaching his hand out to finger one of her mahogany colored curls. "You are very beautiful, Lady Blair. Though judging by your tongue I know you must unfortunately belong to someone—"
"She does."
"Chuck," Blair greeted instantly, a warm smile coming to her face. She stood, going to him as if drawn by the wind. Only when she reached for him, she was caught in a tight hold. She frowned some, confused.
Chuck clenched his free hand in a fist at his side and used his other to hold tightly to Blair. He pulled her hip to his, but kept his eyes with Draven's. He hadn't seen Jack's bastard in years, and this certainly wasn't the sort of reunion he'd wanted.
Draven leaned back in his seat, looking to the Prince, his cousin.
"Your Royal Highness, do not tell me you have taken a wife? Though, I would not object to your selection." He grinned at Blair once more, bowing his head.
"He has not," Nate interjected, ignoring the glare he received from Chuck in return. Instead he turned forward, taking a long drink from his wine. He cleared his throat.
"She is to be his sister-in-law—"
"I call no man husband yet, nor does any man own me, Sir." Blair spoke up, speaking with great pride. Her eyes connected with the third man's, but she looked away quickly. "French women are not as easily tamed—"
"Yet you have been," Chuck retorted.
Her eyes quickly rose to his, but the warning in his dark orbs forced her to immediately hinder any objection.
Chuck looked to Draven. "Between us, Bastard—she is mine." There was no hesitation in his speak, but absolute authority.
Blair glanced from Chuck to the other man, watching the light in his eyes dim some at the title he was called. She shook her head. "You are not brothers—"
"No," Draven confirmed quickly. He took a long drink of his wine and spoke with a raspy voice. "We are cousins, my Lady." He looked to her, forcing a smile. "Though I am illegitimate, a bastard as the Prince previously proclaimed."
"Even bastard's have names, Sir Draven. Perhaps if you used yours, then others would start to as well," Blair told him, her lips tugging into the softest of smiles. It was nice to meet someone outside the English court. Sir Draven was English, but it was clear where he had been raised was elsewhere, and more importantly not among the so many that hated her by nature. It seemed he was disliked as well, ostracized. Strangely they had something in common.
He bowed his head, complimenting her smile with one of his own.
"You are a smart woman, a rare find, Lady Blair. I see why my cousin wishes to steal you away." Draven turned forward again, peering out at the sands as the jousters prepared themselves.
Blair was watching him when she felt Chuck grab onto her side. She looked up, not making eye contact with him, but moving with his hand to direct her. He pushed her down into a chair and took his seat beside her. She watched as he put his feet up, kicking at Draven's chair some. He seemed to release it all in aggravation and his feet hit the ground with a thump. Draven turned his cheek, looking back ever so cautiously at the Prince. Chuck leaned forward in his seat and smirked, getting dangerously close.
"I don't wish for anything, Bastard. What I want it mine, what I say goes, and who I say can go too—"
He looked back at Blair and her eyes averted from his.
A dark chuckle emitted from his lips. "Now that you are back on the English Court, do well to remember that."
His hand came up, and he gave Draven a harsh pat on the shoulder. Then he fell back in his seat again, leaning to his side against Blair's shoulder. She turned and met his eyes, a shiver running down her spine. To this point, she had seen Chuck jealous, but never so threatening towards others. It seemed it was easy to forget how much power he had, until she watched him threaten to enforce it firsthand—and with so few words.
"Your Highness, the games have started. I swear this shall be a good joust, only better if I were upon the sands myself," Nate mentioned.
Blair listened, but barely. She was still watching Chuck, and her Prince was watching her in return. A small, gracious smile came to her lips. She wanted to make sure he wasn't upset with her. It wasn't always so easy to tell what was going on in his mind.
"Another day will come and you will be," Chuck agreed with a nod in Nate's direction. His hand came up and he took hold of Blair's chin.
She stared at him, wide eyed. Surely, he wouldn't kiss her in front of so many people. No—he wouldn't with his father so near. His hand dropped from view, to her lap. He would go there though, that she knew.
"Your Highness," Blair whispered, her voice sounding in plea.
"Chuck," he corrected. His hand wrapped around her thigh slowly. He shook his head, gazing intently at her. "You need comfort no man, but me."
Blair realized what had particularly angered him—her attempts to make Draven feel better about his "bastard" title. She bit her bottom lip. Her behavior was a rare occurrence. Perhaps Chuck was merely used to seeing her detest everyone in the English Court, but him. It seemed he liked it that way too.
"Blair?" Chuck asked.
He wanted a confirmation and in all honesty she didn't have much of a choice in the matter. She nodded, "I understand, Chuck."
"Good." He smirked and his hand released her thigh. The moment was over and he turned back to watching the games. With how he recovered it was as if it had never happened.
Blair wondered if anyone had even seen it—and then she knew someone had.
Dark eyes stared at her, casting a look over strong shoulders. Draven had seen it, everything really. He'd only been around them a few moments and it was clear he knew quite a bit about what was going on. She wondered if Draven was a threat. After all, he could be an outsider and still be just as dangerous as anyone inside the English Court. She sighed, closing her eyes. Only time would properly label him her ally or her enemy.
XOXOXOXOXO
A/N: Sorry this update took so long! My first year of college was crazy and this summer didn't slow things down much either. Anyways, if you're still reading let me know in a review. I hope everyone is doing well!
P.S. If you're interested in what Draven looks like physically then I personally imagined Tom Hobbs from Spartacus Vengeance playing the part. You of course are welcome to imagine anyone you would like.