The Royal Affair

by SimplyShelbySJL

Prince Charles of England has all he wants, until Lady Blair arrives to Court. She is desirable, provoking, and manipulative. But she is also engaged to his future stepbrother. A game of seduction will begin bathed in banishment and blood. No one is safe.

27. The Tale of Two Toms

The Royal Affair

Chapter Twenty-Seven:

THE TALE OF TWO TOMS

Who the fuck was Blair taking an entire evening to write letters to?

WYATT

His own inner voice answered, seeming to shout at him as the words then continued to echo all throughout his mind. He sighed, gritting his teeth, with fists now clenched at his sides. He stormed back down the long corridor, away from Blair's apartments. She hadn't even invited him inside. In fact, it seemed as if she was purposefully trying to keep him from coming in. It was the first time she'd ever done anything like that, turned him away, flat out denied his company. Surely, she could write some incessant letter another time, like when he was off tending to royal business or away on a hunt. He knew she could, which was why he also knew that meant it must not just be some dumb letter, but an important one. Or rather, whoever she was writing to, this "friend", was important to her. But were they more important than him?

Well, clearly if she'd rather spend the night writing to them than dining with the prince, the little voice piped up again. He groaned outwardly in aggravation, as he let it take control and consume all his thoughts and rational. Someone so important, yet so vague must have been a male someone. And who a better or more likely candidate than that dreadful poet that consumed so much of his own thoughts lately?

Of course, it had to be him. A woman never forgot a man who wrote and published so many poems about her. He now wondered if she had any secretly squared away in her chambers, sneaking off and reading them to herself over and over again when he wasn't around. Or perhaps this Thomas Wyatt had been writing to her already. Perhaps they'd not only had an affair, but it'd never stopped. The mere thought ignited a rage and jealousy in him that he'd never experienced before. Yes, he had been both, but not to this extent. He'd never felt it in his bones like he did now. And he knew were this Wyatt fellow in front of him when he'd thought it, not even the entire king's guard could have kept the prince from ringing his neck.

Word had to have gotten around, back to the courts or wherever this fellow resided that Blair belonged to the prince now. Surely only a fool would risk still reaching out to her. But who more a fool than a poor poet in love?

The word burned his brain and left a bitter taste on his tongue, even though he never spoke it. The idea of another man loving Blair felt increasingly threatening, and the idea of her returning such feelings to anyone, but hi…to any other man, it was enough to drive him mad.

He needed to get this situation sorted out sooner rather than later. He wondered if Nathaniel had been successful in presenting a friendly enough invitation to court for this Thomas Wyatt to take the bait. His stomach churned some, and he felt uneasy at the thought of how Blair would react to this man. He could keep it from her up until the most opportune moment if he so wished, but eventually she'd have to see him. And Chuck would have to be there to witness her reaction to him, if there was one, he thought hopefully. And then that bitter voice came round one more time again to assure him there would be. And though perhaps he should be more concerned with his own list of possible violent reactions to all of this, he dreaded hers all the more.

He didn't want Blair in the same country as Wyatt, let alone the same court, or even worse, the same room. She could never be alone with him, that much was certain. Chuck wouldn't have it. She belonged to him now, and as far as he was concerned her choice in that meant choosing to forfeit any past baggage, poems and poets included.

"Your highness, how are you this afternoon?" Daniel Humphrey inquired pleasantly, bowing his head at Chuck as he entered his royal office. He made no move for the desk though, instead plopping down in front of the fireplace. He then carefully raised and extended his hurt leg onto the foot rest before him, cursing under his breath at the coinciding pain he felt almost immediately.

"Please your highness, let me help. Should I call the doctor?" The other man rushed to his side, bending down and reaching outwards as if to assist.

Chuck held up his hand in protest and shook his head.

"I don't need help sitting down, Humphrey. Do not insult me as if I'm some feeble, out of shape, old man yet—"

"I would never, your highness. I assure you I meant nothing of the sort—"

"Fine then. You didn't mean it, but you still insulted me. But yes, go on and call for the royal physician. It's been bothering me since last night. Best to have him come clean and repackage it before I see the Lady Blair tonight," Chuck furthered, sighing as he felt somewhat defeated at the suggestion. He knew it was what he needed, but it wasn't exactly the best morality boost on top of everything else already going on.

"Yes, your highness. Of course." Dan then stepped outside for a moment to send for the doctor, before returning back to the room.

"Get me some wine then, would you?"

"Yes, your highness," Dan obliged, pouring a cup and bringing it to him. The prince took it, finishing it off in two big swigs, before handing it back to him.

"More," he ordered.

Dan nodded and saw to it, returning with an even fuller cup the second time.

"Tell me, have you found anymore poems for me?" Chuck asked, getting right back into his least favorite, yet all consuming subject.

Dan looked down, sighing, as he knew though he had the answer the prince wanted, he would not be happy about it. Each poem he presented to the prince triggered a worse reaction than the last. And were he intoxicated, Dan best be prepared to duck or run because things had been, and most certainly would be thrown again. He eyed the prince up and down, trying to gauge if he was that drunk today. It thankfully did not appear to be the case.

"Yes, your highness. I acquired a book of poems he published in his earlier years. Most are almost assuredly about the maiden he always writes about. However, there waw a more recent development." Dan paused, wondering if he shouldn't have revealed that last part. But ultimately, he knew he had no choice. He could face serious consequences if he were to keep it from the prince and then the prince found out.

"What is it? Spit it out!" Chuck exclaimed, shifting his body and indicating how uncomfortable he still was.

"Well, your highness, my sources indicate he has recently published a new pamphlet of poems. Apparently, he's been causing a bit of a stir back at the French court with it," Dan explained nervously.

"And what are the new poems about?" Chuck bit back, speaking through gritted teeth.

"Different things. Lots of social commentary on the ways of the court. Some about the English court, but that's to be expected from a poet and his home country—"

"You mean to say he's making fun of MY court," Chuck corrected, nostrils flaring. It was one thing for a man of Blair's past to exist, it was another thing entirely for him to be provoking and poking fun at Chuck, the prince of England.

"I assure you it is very standard for the type of poet—"

"Anymore love poems then?" Chuck interrupted.

The man across from him fell silent for a moment, his eyes not seemingly able to look up from the floor and meet the prince's.

"Yes, your highness. One in particular, that the people of the French court have grown quite fond of. Tis about a young man who lost a great and beautiful treasure while in France. Then one day he hears it has turned up in England, and he sets off on a quest to retrieve it. Only to find it hasn't turned up there, but in fact been stolen by a greedy villain of a… it's either a king or prince. Forgive me, I cannot call the exact wording to mind now. However, the metaphor of this great and beautiful treasure is assuredly that of a woman," he revealed timidly, and Chuck sensed he wasn't being entirely truthful about remembering the exact word or verse. Humphrey had never had any trouble with literature before. Either way it didn't matter. Upon hearing all of this, Chuck felt a tidal wave of cold emotion, that ironically felt as if it were burning him alive from the inside. This was a blatant and personal slight from a man he'd never met. A man whose only connection to him was through… Blair. HIS Blair, England's Blair, Chuck's Blair.

"Is it obvious it is about me?" Chuck asked him blatantly, throwing him a look to suggest he would not tolerate anymore claims of forgetfulness.

"Other than that, you're a prince of England, no. In my opinion, it does not, your highness. Though I do think if one were to have the background and context to apply such as yourself, you may then have valid reason to be insulted," Dan articulated.

"This Wyatt sounds like a bloody fool," Chuck retorted, his expression darkening. "If he isn't careful, he may find that to be true in more than just a metaphorical sense." There was a twinge of cruel jest in his voice and he could tell it made Humphrey uncomfortable, but he didn't care. He knocked back the rest of his wine and then stared at his cup for a moment before chucking it clear across the room. It smashed into a porcelain figurine, which cascaded onto the floor and shattered in immediate response. His secretary quickly scrambled to clean it up.

"The royal physician, your highness," a guard announced. Appearing in the doorway with the doctor who'd brought along his bag of tricks. Chuck wasn't happy to see him, even if he knew he may feel better because of it later on.

"Yes, come in. My leg needs tending to," Chuck said finally, sinking back in his seat. Then as he readied himself for the usual pain that came with cleaning and tending to his wound, he found his eyes had drifted upwards to the ceiling. He tried to focus on the ornate carvings someone had decorated the wood panels with, but it was no use. All he could think of was this dreadful poet, and the possible hold he could have over the girl Chuck… over the girl that belonged to him.

He felt the doctor's scalpel make the first cut into his leg, and he bared his teeth. He then opened his eyes to see his secretary staring at him from across the room, looking very concerned. Chuck ignored this. Instead, he made direct eye contact with him, and spoke loud enough so that he'd be sure to hear him.

"From now on, you shall see and read any and all letters to or from the Lady Blair. And you are to report the findings of such directly to me. Do you understand?" Each word was harder to get out than the last. His leg felt like it was on fire now. If the doctor had attempted to give him something for the pain, it hadn't worked.

"Yes, your highness. I understand," Dan answered obediently. He would see it done.

XOXOXOXOXO

Blair tapped her foot impatiently, as her ladies in waiting began to help her with her nighttime rituals. She had just finished her bath, and they were now assisting her in putting on her nightgown and night robes. She then took a seat at her boudoir, so that one could brush her hair. She'd only left Chuck a few hours ago, and he'd already sent two different servants, asking if she'd finished with her letter writing. Her ladies in waiting became confused by this. One the first message had arrived they'd began to pester her about it; and once the second message came, it only made things worse. So, she decided she might as well make them privy to the situation. Only when she started to go into it, she could tell the two from earlier that day had been whispering to the others. Either that, or rumors of this Jenny Humphrey, and her marked up neck had already reached more ears at court than Blair had hoped or realized.

"The Lady Serena is here to see you," one announced, entering the bedroom. The one brushing her hair did not stop, and Blair did not turn round to look at her. Instead, she made eye contact through her dresser mirror and nodded her head solemnly.

"Let them in," she beckoned, knowing Serena had not come alone. The girl nodded and then left the room for a short moment before returning with Serena and the young girl she'd brought along with her. Blair watched them both in the mirror's reflection, again not turning around to face them. She could see the girl was wearing a cloak with a hood, her face mostly covered by its overhang. However, Blair could see blonde hair peaking out from it. It wasn't as long or as golden colored as Serena's, but definitely very different than Blair's chestnut-colored curls.

"You're Jennifer Humphrey?" Blair asked finally. She gave the girl brushing her hair a look, stopping her immediately. Then she turned in her seat and rose to her feet to face the girl. Instantly, the young girl dropped to her knees and bowed in response. She acted as if Blair was royalty, which would have flattered Blair if she didn't know this girl was well aware that she wasn't.

"I go by Jenny, my Lady," the girl responded in a meek sounding voice. Blair could still not make out any facial features, or see the neck in question with her cloak pulled down so far. She pursed her lips, placing a hand on her hip.

"And you were with the prince last night?" Blair questioned, trying not to sound accusatory, but rather as if she was just asking casual questions. It didn't really work; she could hear the anger in her voice already.

The girl nodded slowly, and then made a noise that sounded somewhere between a mouse and a child's cry. If she'd thought that would work on someone like Blair though, she was to find very soon how incorrect she was. For in that moment, Lady Blair felt very on edge and even more so threatened by the girl before her.

"Remove your robe," Blair bit, giving the order through clenched teeth. She could feel Serena shooting her a look, but she didn't make eye contact with her friend. She watched as the younger girl, who was still kneeling before her, trembled some.

"Blair— "Serena began, but Blair quickly interrupted her.

"I said remove your cloak or I shall have my ladies do it for you," she furthered, taking a threatening step towards the girl. She didn't know why, but something deep down in her wanted to rip the girls cloak off and grab her by her hair. Everyone at court knew Blair and the prince were… what they were. She would not stand for some little floozy in such a low station to try and swoop in.

Serena sighed, and moved to help Jenny remove the cloak. Once in her hands though, her friend gasped at the sight of the girl and immediately stepped back. The girl, who was much younger than Serena or Blair, had large purple and black bruises both up and down her arms, and on what they could see of her chest area. Then on the left side of her nape, Blair saw it. A special kind of bruise, one only a bite mark could leave. She was even certain she could somewhat still make out the teeth marks. Blair felt her blood run cold, and her hand ball into a fist. It was rare Chuck had ever left her looking like that, but there had been one time he'd come close, and she had ended up looking an awful lot like this Jenny Humphrey did now.

And then without fully realizing what she was doing, she moved quickly towards the girl. She grabbed her wrist with one hand and slapped her clear across the face with the other. "Give me one reason I shouldn't have you sent to the tower!" Blair screamed, shocking herself. It wasn't like she even had that kind of power, but the part of her that craved it definitely had taken control now.

The girl screamed, instantly bursting into tears. Serena moved across the room, grabbing Blair's free hand, and trying to pull her from Jenny. "Blair, let go. She's just a girl—"

"A girl who found herself alone with the prince. Not so easy, was it? Did you think you could just waltz in and charm him? Did you not realize who you were dealing with?" Blair was spitting venom. She knew she must look and sound like a madwoman, but she didn't care.

"I—I didn't. Please, you must believe me. I didn't even want to be there. I don't even think the prince wanted to be there. My Lady, please," Jenny sobbed, pulling at her arm, and falling backwards when Blair suddenly let go. Serena grabbed hold of Blair and pulled her further away from Jenny. She then nodded to one of Blair's ladies in waiting to help the girl up, but it took them a moment. They seemed either too afraid of Blair, or too loyal to her to aid Jenny immediately.

"What do you mean? Why would the prince be there if he didn't want to be?" Blair retorted, her chest heaving up and down. She felt as if her internal temperature had risen back up to what it'd felt like during her hot bath earlier that evening.

Jenny slowly rose to her feet, and then carefully met Blair's eyes again. Her round blue eyes welled up with more tears and she struggled to speak between the sobs.

"He—he tried to leave a few times, but the—the other man was persistent. But—but the prince barely even spoke to the other girls. And I never even tried to speak with him. I—I promise," Jenny swore, looking to Serena as if she could somehow convince Blair to believe her if her own words did not.

Blair glared at her, not feeling moved. "And yet he marked up your neck—"

"He did not!" Jenny cried, then touching a hand to her neck. "It—It was the other man. His—his uncle," she explained.

Blair went still, and then suddenly felt very cold. She glanced over at Serena who was staring at her as if she was worried about Blair, or perhaps what she'd do next. She supposed she was acting rather senseless that night.

"You expect me to believe that your injury, one that mimics one which the prince gives so well and so often, to be from his uncle?" Blair asked breathlessly. She then took a step towards Jenny, who cowered and whimpered in response.

"Blair, please. She could be telling the truth," Serena reasoned.

"I am, my Lady. I swear it," Jenny told her urgently.

Blair shook her head, and then raised her hand as if she meant to strike again. "Do no lie to me—"

"My lady!" Isabel, one of her ladies suddenly interrupted, stepping out before her. She then bowed her head and spoke respectfully. "Forgive me, Lady Blair. But there may be truth to Jenny's words. You see I was born and raised here, and there was a time, when the prince came of age, that there were many rumors at court about the trouble him and his uncle would get into. And ones to suggest they have certain tastes that align," she explained. She spoke in hushed tones, and Blair knew speaking like this about the prince made the girl both nervous and uncomfortable. Yet, she was doing it, putting herself out of her comfort zone for Blair it seemed.

"You swear this to be true?" Blair asked in response, feeling the adrenaline in her start to settle down some.

"Of course, my Lady. Or else I'd not breathed a word of it to you," Isabel revealed, nodding her head.

Blair sighed, looking from Isabel, to Serena, and then the sobbing girl before her.

"If I find you lied to me in anyway… well, not even your royal secretary of a brother will be able to help you," Blair threatened, still not feeling completely assured yet.

Jenny shook her head. "I have not, my Lady. I—I promise."

"The prince belongs to me," Blair said suddenly, every room in the head, but Jenny's instantly snapping in her direction. She could feel Serena's shocked eyes baring into the back of her head, but Blair didn't turn to look at her. Instead, she took another step towards Jenny, now reaching out a careful hand to take hold of her cheek. Jenny winced, and Blair couldn't blame her. She had slapped her after all. But now, she only carefully tilted and moved her cheek, so she could make out all her injuries in the light. Upon a closer look, this was quite a bit worse than anything Chuck had ever done to her. He of course tried to keep anything too rough confined to places others at court wouldn't see it. The man who had done this clearly had no care or concern for what this girl would have to walk around with at court. Blair began to pity her some at the thought.

"Jenny, did you want Jack to do this to you?" she asked. The girl made a small squeaking sound at the mention of his name. Then she shook her head.

Blair sighed, "I am going to offer you something. But I want you to know, should you take it, I expect very much from you in return." Jenny didn't say anything, nor did any other woman in the room. However, Serena did move to stand beside Blair, as if to somehow express her approval or acknowledgement for what Blair was about to do.

"I shall offer you the position of one of my ladies in waiting. Though again, I warn you, should I ever find you lied or been anything, but your upmost loyal to me… there shall be severe consequences. But if you do accept, with this comes my protection," she explained, letting go of the girl's cheek so that Jenny could make eye contact with her. She almost seemed to smile at this, but it was hard to tell with her face still red and raw from all the crying she'd done before that.

"Please Lady Blair, I do not deserve—"

"Don't start with all that. You either accept or don't," Blair cut her off, taking on a somewhat stern tone. She felt bad the girl had been put through so much, but it wasn't Blair who had put her in the way of danger. The best she could do for her was to offer a way to avoid it now.

"Yes," Jenny returned quicky, nodding her head feverishly as she did so.

Serena laughed, and it sounded very, very relieved. "Your brother will be so pleased," she remarked, patting Jenny's arm gently.

Jenny shook her head. "I have not been able to face him like this. I cannot go home and have him see… he would not understand—"

"Men rarely understand what us women have to put up with in this world," Blair stated, all the women looking to her in surprise as they often did when she said something that could have gotten her in trouble if said around the wrong someone. Unbothered by this possibility, she walked back over to her boudoir and sat down.

"Finish my hair. The prince is waiting." She looked at the girl who'd been brushing it before, watching as she rushed back over to finish her task. She then opened the top right drawer and pulled out a gold compact, holding it out in Serena and Jenny's direction.

"You may stay in one of the guest bedrooms of my apartments tonight. Serena you will stay here to keep an eye on her as I will not return tonight once I have gone. Tomorrow though, before you must return home, you will take this powder and apply it as needed. You must also do your best to avoid your brother, but it should aid in hiding the bruises as long as he is kept at a distance," Blair told her.

Jenny walked over slowly, carefully taking the compact from her. "Is—is this real gold?" she asked, turning it over and over in her hands, as her eyes went wide.

"Of course. It's from the prince, which means you should be careful not to let him or the wrong person see you with it. They might assume you stole it from me," Blair warned, knowing almost anyone who saw someone like Jenny with an item of such worth would be compelled to think the worst of circumstance.

"Th—Thank you, my Lady. I shall protect it with everything, and make sure once I no longer need it that it is returned safely to you," Jenny promised, then tucking the compact in the pocket of her dress.

"Just put it back in the drawer when you're finished," Blair instructed. "Now, go with Lady Serena, and find yourself a bed for the night."

"Yes, my Lady. And thank you. You don't know what it—"

"You can show me what it means to you," Blair finished for her, and the girl fell silent, only nodding her head then in response. She then watched as Serena, who was clearly very pleased with her friend's decision, took Jenny and led her carefully from the room.

Blair sighed, leaning forward onto her elbows, and rubbing her temples with her fingertips. She felt a headache coming on, and was awfully tired. She wondered what hour it must be now, and if she thought Chuck would even still be awake to realize whether or not she joined him in his chambers tonight. For a moment, she considered not going, and instead stared at her bed. It looked rather inviting at the moment, freshly dressed with clean linens and furs.

"Shall I get your cloak to wear to his highness's chambers, my Lady?" her last remaining lady in waiting asked. It was the one who had brushed her hair, and Blair was sure she was more than ready to be dismissed herself.

"Just leave it on the bed," Blair answered, still undecided on whether or not she felt like making the trip. The evening had been a lot on her to say the least. So many emotions she wasn't used to feeling, and all in the span of an hour. It was simply too much for her.

The girl nodded, then did as instruct, before bowing, and taking a quiet leave of the room. Once she was gone, everything fell silent, except for the crackling noises coming from the fire they'd left for her. Blair walked over to the bed, picking up her cloak, and putting it on. She turned to look at her reflection in the mirror, and noted how well it hid her identity when the hood was pulled. It was not unlike the one Jenny had worn, other than being made with much more expensive and finer of fabric. In fact, she noted how extremely soft the material was as she rubbed it between her fingertips. Gripping the sides of it, and wrapping it around her body tightly, she allowed herself to fall backwards on the bed. Then she stretched out for a moment, before cocooning herself within the cloak. She was certain now she didn't have the energy left tonight she'd need to make it to the prince's chambers. So halfway to her slumber, she finally decided she'd sleep in her own quarters that night. And with that, she fully nodded off.

XOXOXOXOXO

Blair awoke to the sound of loud crashes and bangs. She jolted, sitting upwards in bed, and looking around the room fearfully. She had been awoken in the worst way, from the deepest of sleeps. The first thing she noticed was that it was still the dead of night outside her window, the second thing was the dark figure she could barely make out in the dimly lit room. There wasn't much light other than the red tones of it reflecting round the room from the embers left in place of where a fire had once been. Then she heard what sounded like a drawer being opened, shook out, and dropped to the floor. It appeared as if her room was being raided, but instead of a group of guards doing it, there was one sole figure in the darkness. And from what she could tell, her bedroom door was still shut. She wondered if it was also locked, meaning she locked in here with them, and she shuttered at the thought. There was no telling who this was in the dark. And it wasn't exactly like she had zero enemies at court. She wondered if any were great enough yet to want her dead. Before she could linger on the thought, another crash sounded, and a groan of pain followed it. She paused; the groan sounded familiar. Her body stilled, calming some, as she sniffed the room and found the familiar reeking of too much wine. She was pretty certain she knew who had found their way in her room, and it would make sense how they'd gotten past her ladies and guards without someone waking to warn her. Quietly, she slipped out of bed, finding her way to a table with a candelabra and lighting it. As the room slowly lit up, the intruder dropped whatever it was they now held. She found herself face to face with a very disheveled Chuck.

"What are you doing?" she asked, now looking down at the floor. He had pulled out many of her drawers, as well as opened all cabinets, and emptied contents of any boxes within them. Her room was a wreck, and almost everything she owned now thrown onto the floor. She felt a bit of anger rise up in her at the thought of any dresses made from delicate fabric now forever ruined.

"These are my things! And you said these chambers were mine—" she began, but was immediately interrupted.

"And you said you would come to my chambers tonight!" he yelled back, then stumbling towards her. She couldn't quite make out if he'd tripped over something on the floor or if his leg was bothering him enough to unsteady him in his evident drunkenness. She really never quite understood how he got so drunk, and yet could still speak and move about as he did. It must have been from years of practice.

"I got tired and fell asleep. Surely, such a small discretion does not call for this kind of behavior? Why would you do this? You bought me most of these things!" she shouted, finding herself worked up more and more with each item she noticed.

"Then they are mine to do with as I wish! All of this is mine! These dresses, and jewels, and furniture!" He then violently kicked at the seat of her boudoir, knocking it over, and a leg snapping off in the process. He shook his head, "This entire bloody room is mine, and everything within it!" His chest heaved up and down, his breathing so loud Blair could hear each breath.

"I did not mean to fall asleep," she offered, speaking carefully. It did not work.

"You meant to not spend the evening with me! You did all but ban me from your chambers earlier, insisting you'd come to me! Like you have any right to tell me when or where I will see you," he spat, walking right up to her. He stopped though before their bodies touched, and she could see how red in the face he was. It was evident he hadn't slept a wink, and had probably been drinking the entire time. She found herself worrying for him in regards to this, but that also made her angry. He didn't deserve her concern when he acted this way, and treated her as such.

"I shall not speak to you when you're like this," Blair denied, shaking her head at him. She turned on her heel, as if to try and just return back to bed. This of course didn't work, and she felt him grab hold of her from behind, spinning her around, and pushing her back up against the bed post. With his chest pressed tightly to her own, she was pinned between the bed and him.

"What? Are you not done with your search of my room? Perhaps you'd like to call the guards or Nathaniel in to conduct one more thoroughly," she spat, the fire or fight in her not yet gone out completely. Sometimes when put in a position like this it was best to try and put up a strong front.

"Perhaps I shall," he sneered back, and she could tell that tonight would not be one of those occasions. "What are you keeping from me?" he asked accusingly.

"What?" Blair returned, sounding thrown off-guard by this question.

"I know you, and I know there is something. I feel it," he seethed in her ear, hot breath on her neck. He then pulled back, dark black eyes staring into her own warm brown. For a moment she almost thought they seemed to be brimming with tears, but none ever fell.

"I want your letter. Give it to me, now," he ordered, his hands sliding up and down her body in a way as if he was physically searching her for it.

"My letter?" Blair asked, frowning at him. For a moment, it didn't click for her what he was referring to. He glared in response, thinking the worst of this.

"Give it to me, Blair!" Chuck said again, his voice raising some. And then it dawned on her what he must mean, her cover story to him for that evening.

"There—there isn't any letter. There never was," Blair revealed, speaking breathlessly. She wasn't sure in this state he'd be capable of convincing.

"You're lying to me!" Chuck yelled, grabbing hold of her by the waist.

"I am not! I am not lying to you, but—but I did," she stuttered.

"Wh—what?" Apparently, it was his turn to be confused now. He frowned at her, furrowing his brow in question. "What are you talking about? You lied to me before? When? About what?" he questioned.

"I had to lie to you. I could not have you know what I was doing. Were it to turn out that my reasoning for such was valid, you would have surely stopped me. And then I would have never found out the truth," she explained, but she knew she was likely doing a terrible job of it. And it didn't help her heart felt like it was about to beat out of her chest. She almost wondered if Chuck could hear it too, or if it was all her anxiety induced imagination.

"The truth? You lied to uncover the truth? What are you talking about?" Chuck asked, sounding very frustrated in his fury and drunkenness.

"I had to meet with Jennifer Humphrey, to see her neck," Blair divulged, and as she felt her face flush at the reveal, she was glad the room was too dark for him to notice.

"Jennifer Humphrey? Is she connected to the royal secretary?" None of this seemed to be clearing anything up for him, and then it dawned on her. She sighed, not able to hide the tone of sadness in it.

"You didn't even know her name, did you?" she queried. Her eyes fell from his. "Tell me, did you know any of the other girls' either?"

"I am not sure I know what you're talking about—"

Blair scoffed, and she couldn't manage to hide the bitterness in it. "It would then appear I am not the only one who lies," she told him. When he said nothing in response, she continued. "Were you not with your uncle, among the company of other young girls that night you sent me to my chambers against my will?" She phrased it very specifically, purposefully.

She watched as the realization of her new intel dawned on him, and he seemed to pull back from her physically. She could have easily slid out between him and the bed post now, but she no longer wished to flee. With even the slightest sign of offence from him, she worked up more will to carry on further. She began to speak in a quicker pace.

"Daniel Humphrey's sister was one of those girls. And the next day at court anyone who saw her saw her neck all maimed up with bite marks and bruises—"

"Blair, I didn't touch her," Chuck swore, shaking his head. "I didn't touch any of them. I was there with Jack, and if she was the one, he—well the one he was with I'm sure how it looked… but it wasn't me. I'll do whatever I need to prove that to you."

"Once a man's faithfulness is put to question there is little, he himself can do to prove otherwise," Blair said in response. "Besides, I needed to see it for myself. Speak to those involved. That's why I told you to go away tonight. I met with her here."

"And?" he beckoned. She wondered if there was still a chance or reason, he thought Jenny may have told her something more damning. And a small part of her wanted to leave him hanging for a moment longer, punish him for even being there, around unrespectable women… or just women that weren't her. She sighed, and she could hear the frustration, she felt, had not been masked.

"Her story aligned with the one you tell now. Though I must say the markings were… similar. I suppose I know who encouraged certain tastes in you now," she remarked, an image of Jack coming to mind. She didn't like the idea of him having influence over Chuck, even a younger version she'd never met. There was something off about the man, and Nate had done all but call him evil. Or perhaps evil was one of the adjectives he'd used, she couldn't recall now. Chuck's words then interrupted her thoughts on it all together.

"I don't want to talk about that, Blair. There is no point in it," he dismissed. For some reason it seemed like Jack could be a sore subject in certain regards. Almost as if he didn't want the image Blair had of him associated with his uncle. It was all she could guess to be the reason at least, if he never wanted to speak about it. Even that though, wasn't good. She didn't like there being a subject they couldn't broach, a forbidden topic among them. She wanted his permission to speak anything in his ear, as long as done so in private and in the right manner.

"What if people see her and think it was you? Even just having people at court—" She began again, trying not to sound upset, but she couldn't continue on in that regard for very much longer. For this idea did upset her greatly.

"What whisper about the lecherous prince like they have for years? Forgive me if I don't lose sleep over it at night," Chuck scoffed, cutting her off with a roll of his eyes. She knew he probably had such reaction in regards to how he felt about the people of court always judging him, but she still felt dismissed by the comment. Like he hadn't taken her feelings on the matter into account at all.

"But what if I do?" She was certain she'd only thought the words, but then her ears heard them spoke aloud in her own voice. It was a very quiet, and almost wounded sounding voice, but one none the same. She began to hope Chuck hadn't heard her, but she could see by his changing expression he definitely had. Even in his drunkenness, he was now staring at her in a very peculiar way. He touched a hand to his chest, cocking his left brow much higher than the right as he spoke.

"You? You shall lose sleep over my alleged affairs?" he asked. And Blair couldn't help think the way he said it almost made it appear as if he found the statement to be ridiculous. And she felt angered by this response. Sure, Chuck wasn't the most empathetic of people, but she thought to hear he'd upset her or that his actions would lead to her being upset would at least cause some kind of caring response from him.

Blair physically turned away from him, wrapping her arms around the post, and leaning up against it for support. She didn't say anything else, part of her wishing he would just go away. Which was an odd feeling, since she usually wanted him nearby. But tonight, she felt hurt by him, and not in the way she'd originally expected. He had not been unfaithful to her physically it had turned out, but he seemed to not care at all whatsoever if others thought he had been or not. Which meant he didn't care about people respecting her, her reputation, or so many other things that went along with it. And who was a woman in this world, if she couldn't at least garnish some respect? Who was Blair Waldorf if she couldn't command all of it?

"I made Jenny Humphrey one of my ladies in waiting now," she suddenly spoke up. This anger reigniting a fight in her as she turned round once more to face him. He frowned at her, opening his mouth to surely make some statement about a girl of Jenny's rank not belonging in such a position, but she began again before he could.

"I will not go back on it. I promised my protection in exchange for her loyalty and honesty. So, Jack… your uncle may not have her anymore," she informed him, as if she had the power to do so. She waited for a moment, the two of them just staring at each other, as if it took a moment for her words to fully sink in. And then Chuck did something both unexpected and irritating.

He scoffed at her, ending it with a chuckle.

"And you will protect her from my uncle?" he asked, laughing again. It wasn't a nice laugh though; he was clearly amused by this notion. And she didn't find it funny.

Blair stood up straighter, squaring out her shoulders, and glaring back at him.

"If I must, then I will see to it," she maintained. She watched his expression falter some, as it seemed to dawn on him, she was serious about this. Then suddenly he wasn't so amused anymore.

"You will stay away from Jack, Blair," he said firmly, shaking his head at her. "Do not go putting yourself in harms way for this girl. If he wants to have his fun with her you shall not try and stop it. You will not be able to, and it may only provoke him worse. I forbid it."

"And I forbid any man of this court from touching one of my ladies in waiting without permission. They are of high station, not to be treated like common whores. I command more respect for them, for it is I they represent—"

"Then you shouldn't have made this girl one!" Chuck shouted, clearly getting irritated with her. He turned from her, releasing a large breath, and running a hand through his dark hair. Then he walked back towards her, speaking loudly, but no longer yelling.

"Blair, I want to be clear and make sure you understand this. While you have found yourself in a high position under my protection, you are still a woman, and not a royal one. And while I beg you not argue you are to marry in now if I don't stop it, I will stand firmly in you are not yet by marriage or blood… royal. My uncle, though not very liked among the English court, is very much royal, by blood. It would be hard for the Queen herself to protect a girl from him, let alone someone who is only protected because everyone round knows I'd see anyone's head from their shoulders if I were to find they hurt you!" Somewhere in the speaking he'd began to scream again, but not in a scary way. His words though delivered harshly had confirmed why this matter upset him so. And it became apparent to her this was the first time Chuck had acknowledged in front of her he had the power to execute someone even if he'd meant it in her defense. Her face must have given this away because he quicky spoke again, but in a much softer voice.

"I didn't mean to phrase it like that." He paused for a moment, pursing his lips as if struggling with what to say next. "I just don't want you putting yourself in way of my uncle, in harm's way for some common girl. I am sorry for whatever misfortunes she's suffered or will suffer because of Jack, but my concern remains with you and keeping you safe above all others," he clarified. He then took hold of both her hands in his, as if trying to now physically coax her into agreement. And while Blair felt very flattered at the thought of him wanting her safe, she was still not finding herself entirely agreeable. She prepared herself for backlash from him as she decided to push on.

"I promised her my protection. And she shall have it," Blair refuted, her voice a little shakier than she would have preferred, but she'd still said it and that was something.

"And how shall you protect her and still obey me? Something you also promised," he matched, giving her a different kind of look as he reminded her what she'd sworn to him. Blair pondered this for a moment, and then batted her doe brown eyes at him, speaking just above a whisper in the softest of voices.

"Because… I'm under your protection, so therefore anyone else I will—"

He raised his eyebrow at her and she paused to reconsider her words for just a moment.

"Therefore, anyone else I will, within reason, is also under your protection," she clarified, eyeing him closely to see if she could gauge by expression how he felt about this.

Chuck sighed, "So you want me to make it known the girls under you are under royal protection?"

"Yes," Blair nodded, though not celebrating just yet. It was a question, not a confirmation.

"Sort of like how the queen's ladies in waiting are under royal protection?" he then asked, giving her a sort of side eye glance.

"Yes," she said again, though quicker and louder than before. It had surprised even herself to be honest. It would appear as of later her mouth had more motives than perhaps even the rest of her did. She then detected what she thought was a smirk on his lips, but only for a moment before his expression had evened out again.

"Fine. I shall see what I can do. But only if it means you'll be good girl and let us go on to bed now," he told her, and she knew he was definitely smirking at her now. Only this one was both arrogant and playful in nature.

"It is almost morning," Blair countered, not being able to resist a protest. He narrowed his eyes at her, though his smirk remained. Then he grabbed hold of her waist and spun her around so that her back was pressed into his chest. He rested his chin on her shoulder, whispering into her ear.

"Tis a good thing Prince's are not ruled by the sun then." He then wove his hands into the front of her dressing robe, undoing the ties and buttons needed, so that it fell to the floor to join the rest of her garments and belongings.

"You ruined some of my best dresses, you know," she spoke up, not able to help herself as it had come to mind again.

He chuckled, "I shall get you better ones then."

"I liked the old ones," Blair persisted, but she felt his lips find their way to her neck. She reached a hand up to hold onto his own, as he began to kiss and suck on her nape. It felt very good. It had become a weak spot for not only him, but her as well now. She couldn't help, but close her eyes when he did it, feel the need to hold onto something more stable if she were to continue to stand.

"Really? I like seeing you in new dresses. Someone who looks like you should never be confined to wearing the same dress twice. I like seeing you in new dresses, almost as much as I like seeing you out of them," he jest, his voice purring in her ear. She felt his one of his hands stroking her arm, as the other trailed down her back. Then he patted her backside, and gave her a light push forward. Her front pushed up against the bed in response.

"Get on the bed," he ordered. And she realized they may not be asleep before the sun was up. She climbed up onto the bed, sitting on her knees, and folding her hands in her lap. She turned to look at him, smiling softly.

"Yes, your highness."

XOXOXOXOXOXO

Daniel Humphrey had just finished up his paperwork for the day, completed all meetings within a reasonable hour, and was looking forward to the walk home to his family's new and upgraded apartments. They weren't much as far as nobility or royalty were concerned, but they were more than his family had ever had before. And a step up in the world, was a step up, regardless of how shallow or steep his footing find it. He smiled to himself, sighing with content, as he loaded what he'd need to work on at home later that evening into his satchel styled bag. Then he strung the strap around his neck, and exited the royal offices. He really had made great time with his duties today, as it wasn't even late afternoon yet. Which meant the weather was perfect, not too hot, or too cold. He was all the more thankful the stroll home would be under such pristine weather. He turned down the outside corridor and had just made his first official step in the direction of home when—

"Excuse me, Sir? Could I trouble you for some directions?" a voice asked from behind.

Dan stopped immediately; always cautious it could be someone of much higher rank. Then he turned around to face the unfamiliar voice, and confirmed the face was one he also did not recognize.

"Yes, uh, of course," Dan replied slowly, looking to the man for any kind of clue he hadn't been insulted by not being recognized or addressed by a higher title. He did not appear to have been slighted in anyway. Instead, his lips tugged up into what looked like a very relieved smile. He stepped closer to Dan, running a hand through his somewhat shaggy, light brown curly hair. His sea green colored eyes were framed by thick eyelashes, and he had a slight shadow left over from probably not shaving for a day or two. He was about Dan's age, so mid to late twenties most likely. He spoke with an English accent, but had a soft and soothing type of voice. For a moment Dan thought about how nicely he'd do in reciting literature with it, but then the lad spoke again.

"I thank you very much, Sir. Born in England, and raised partially here, though my family did spend quite some time in France. I took a liking to it, and apparently spent a little too much time there myself as court hardly looks familiar to me anymore. I've gotten lost three times since arriving this morning. And the few people I've come across, not the friendliest of sorts. Well, until you," he explained, flashing Dan another smile.

"I appreciate the compliment, Mister uh—" Dan looked at him for a name.

"You can call me Tom. Never been one much for titles, probably because I haven't got the best of one," he joked, finishing the sentence with a friendly sounding laugh. Dan found this sort of thing both comforting and unnerving. It was comfortable were he really not of a high rank, but were he to find he was actually far from similar ranking, things could get easily awkward.

"Pleasure to meet you, Tom. I am Daniel Humphrey, but you can call me Dan if you'd like. I'm the new royal secretary, so I gather they must think I know a little about the court. I certainly find my way around alright if nothing else. How can I help you?" Dan furthered, both men stepping off to the side of the path as a couple young maidens passed. Dan noticed the young man made it a point to smile at both of them, and it was quite obvious both girls appreciated it. Dan supposed the chap was what one would consider handsome, were they a young maiden or someone who fancied that sort of thing.

"The women look a little better than I remember. Though nothing like in France," Tom joked, eyeing them further till they disappeared down another outside corridor. Then he seemed to remember himself, shook his head, and looked back at Dan.

"Forgive me. I've been traveling for quite a while now, and my company has been that of all men. It can be quite tiring for someone who'd prefer instead to gaze upon all the most beautiful things life has to offer," he apologized, then looked around the grounds as if he was alluding to more than just pretty women, though Dan was sure he'd meant that as well.

"It's alright, Sir. I've assured you I've heard worse," Dan returned, sparing him a smile to let him know he really wasn't all that offended. For it was true, he had heard much, much worse things come out of the mouths of men both in and out of the presence of women.

"Aye, I'm sure you have. You said you were the royal secretary? That means you must work under Prince Charles as well. I've heard he's quite the… character," he remarked.

Dan didn't respond, but instead looked down at his feet and shifted his weight awkwardly. As the royal secretary he could not even make the smallest suggestion of slight against anyone in the royal family, and to do it to the prince felt extraordinarily more dangerous for some reason.

"Forgive me, there goes my mouth again. I sometimes forget I'm speaking to more than just my pen. And when you say it aloud, there's no crumpling it up, after you proof read it once or twice," Tom jest, and Dan realized he must have been a writer. Instantly, Dan felt himself more interested in the young man. What it must be to have the liberty to choose such a career. And just as he began to further ponder exactly what kind of writing he was in, someone else approached them.

"Tom?" a female voice asked, sounding very surprised.

Tom instantly whipped his head in the direction of the voice, a very large grin forming on his face as he made eye contact with its carrier. Dan turned himself to see who it was, and felt his face go red at the sight of her. It was none other than Lady Serena Van Der Woodsen, one of the most beautiful women at court. Dan had admired her since he was a young servant boy. She'd always been gorgeous, but seeing her here now, standing so close… it stunned him a bit. Her golden hair practically glowed in the sun, it was always so effortlessly, yet perfectly framed around her face.

"Serena," Tom responded, then moving away from Dan. He scooped Serena up in one swift movement, twirling her around, before setting her back down and looking her over. "As radiant as ever," he complimented.

"Oh hush. What are you doing here? I haven't seen you in years. I thought your wife and you moved to France—"

"We did, and she still resides there. But I got a bit bored, and she a little bored of me. So, I thought it best to put some distance in between us. I was at the French court writing, and she likes to stay in the country. Then the French court got tired of me, so I thought I'd make my way back here and see what all the happenings were," he explained, playful in tone of voice as he did so.

"I told you not to marry her. You should have listened," Serena scolded with a lighthearted laugh.

Tom opened his mouth as if to say something, but then instead just nodded in agreement. Then he looked back at Dan for the first time since Serena arrived, and motioned over to him.

"Serena, do you know Dan Humphrey? He was just about to give me some directions, never dreamed I'd find a friend along the way," Tom told her.

"Yes, I believe I know of the royal secretary. Though you should be addressing him more formally. Titles do matter to some people, you know. Master Wyatt," Serena teased as the man made a face at her. And Dan thought for sure his heart had stopped for a moment. How had he been so stupid? How had he not put it together already? His name was Tom. He recently arrived back to court. He was clearly in writing. He was THE POET! The one the prince had been so all consumed by; he'd had Duke Archibald call him to court. Only Dan hadn't expected him to get here so soon. And it would seem based on their and his interaction with Serena so far, perhaps he had his own motivations for coming back to court. Ones Dan figured wouldn't bring about anything good. He was almost too lost in his worries to realize both Tom and Serena were now looking at him for some kind of response to the introduction.

He cleared his throat, stuttering. "Master Wyatt? As in the Thomas Wyatt? The English poet?" He knew it was true, but he needed confirmation from the man himself for some reason. Perhaps a small, miniscule part of him still hoped it was all a coincidence.

"It would appear you've made a name for yourself. You have fans now?" Serena asked Tom with a laugh. Dan wondered if it had been at his expense. In teasing Tom was she also making fun of him. The thought made him want to run and hide.

"I can assure you I have not many," Tom told Serena, but then turned his gaze back to Dan. "But yes, that's me. You know of my work?" Dan noted there was a bit of flattery peeking through in the question, not that he could blame him. What artist wouldn't be thrilled when recognized upon name?

"Yes, Sir. I've read quite a few of your poems, as of late," Dan answered, not entirely sure how to respond or how much information he should reveal. Absolutely nothing about the prince or his motivations of course. However, he had acknowledged he knew this poet, and his work, so he couldn't exactly act like an idiot about it now. Not to mention he already felt self-conscious with Lady Serena present.

"Very good. Well, I shall be in town for a little while. Let me know if you'd like to discuss anything," Tom offered. He then chuckled. "I surely owe you a cup of wine or ale on me for having to sit through my poetry."

"Not at all, Sir. I assure you I found them all very well written. I have mostly come across your political works, and your—poems about romance. But they have all been exceptional," Dan complimented, nodding his head at Master Wyatt. He felt Serena's eyes on him, perhaps looking for some kind of eye contact or acknowledgement she was in the conversation, but Dan couldn't bring himself to look at her. She made him so very nervous.

Tom beamed at this, then placed a friendly hand on Dan's shoulder.

"You know, Daniel Humphrey, I think you may be my favorite Englishman to ever come across," he jest, though sounded somewhat serious. But then again didn't most jokes have an underlying sense of truth to them?

"Tom, you just like him because he enjoys your silly poems," Serena remarked, interjecting herself back into the conversation. For a woman she wasn't the least bit shy, but it was part of her charm.

Tom made a playful face of anger at her, and then shook his head. "You never understood my works, Van Der Woodsen."

She scoffed out a laugh, smacking his arm some. "Perhaps it's because you never bothered to write anything about me. You were too consumed by your muse," she teased further, throwing him a knowing look.

Though Dan noticed a flash of an expression across Tom's face for a moment, one far less playful than he evidently wanted to appear. He then seemed to ponder his response for a moment, as he didn't emit one right away.

And then he shrugged, "Yes, well in the end it didn't seem to do much for her either. Otherwise, she'd still be around to further inspire places other than my dreams."

Well, this wasn't good. Dan felt he was now privy to a conversation he really did not want to be a part of. Could it possibly present an upper hand for him? Yes, but he wasn't sure that was how he wanted to rise in the ranks in life. It wasn't how his father had brought him up.

"Yes, I'm sure you marrying another woman had nothing to do with it," Serena returned with a roll of her eyes, though a smile still hung on her lips.

"Are we to stand around all day and list off all my mistakes?" Tom replied, though still lighthearted in nature with her.

"No, I suppose not. Where are you staying? I am sure I can show you the way, that is if Mister Humphrey doesn't mind me taking it from here?" Serena offered, moving to make eye contact with Dan again. He knew to avoid it perhaps this final time would be both disrespectful and ruin any chance of her ever speaking to him again.

Dan smiled, nodding his head, and trying to not look too relieved. "Of course. Who am I to come between two old friends? Besides I actually had some royal business to attend to," he told them. And it was unfortunately not a lie.

"Well then, Dan. I hope you not remain a stranger for long. The pleasure has been all mine," Tom told him, bowing his head some. It was very rare anyone did that for Dan, aside from children or the occasional low-ranking servant. He could tell Thomas Wyatt was likely quite the charmer, which again was not the best of news.

"Yes, Master Wyatt. And I hope you find the English court to be…" Dan heard himself hesitate for a moment and realized he wasn't quite sure what word to use. A sense of panic overstruck him, and he stuttered in the recovery. "I—I hope you have a nice, safe visit."

They had not been the right words to use. Both Serena and Tom smiled at him again before bidding goodbye, but he could tell his words had thrown them some. He could only hope not enough to discuss it once they'd walked away from him. He watched them go a good distance, waiting to see if they'd look back at him in a gossiping sort of manner, but neither spared him enough glance. This was not uncommon, to most ranking higher than him he was all, but invisible if they weren't involved with royal business.

He sighed, his shoulders slumping in disappointment as he eyed the path home once more. It was seemingly more perfectly paved than the rest, and the sun in its sky, somehow seemed brighter and more inviting than the same one that hung on the other path presented before him now. It didn't matter. He wouldn't be going home as previously planned. It was his duty to report, to the prince or at least Duke Archibald, of Thomas Wyatt's arrival. He'd also need to make sure Lady Blair didn't somehow come across him before the prince. He looked back in the direction Serena and Tom had gone, feeling almost ill for a moment as he tried to recall which way Lady Blair's royal apartments were. Then relief washed over him in a cooling sensation all throughout his body when he realized they were in the opposite direction the pair had gone. At least they weren't going directly to her, yet. It was possible they could have, given Lady Serena was Lady Blair's best friend.

Well, that settled it. He knew what he needed to do, though it didn't make him feel any better to be honest. He needed to let the guards know outside Lady Blair's quarters they were to find a way to keep her there until the prince or he returned to free her. He'd hoped one of them would recognize him, and he wouldn't have much trouble convincing them, or worse run into Lady Blair in the process. She almost assuredly would not listen to him. If he were successful in that task however, he would then need to seek out the Prince or Duke Archibald as quickly as possible to inform them of this update. Beyond that, he wasn't sure how much information he'd planned to divulge yet. For one, he wasn't sure the prince was incapable of shooting the messenger, as one would say. Dan had seen small, and not so small fits of rage from him, if something provoked or angered him enough. So perhaps it was best to edit the message some before relaying it to him. He supposed he'd think it over on the way to Lady Blair's quarters. One must be very careful when deciding what moves to make or parts to play at the English court.

XOXOXOXOXO

Nate laughed aloud at Dan's omission of ordering Blair's guards to keep her in her quarters until the prince or his secretary showed back up to release her.

"Can you imagine if she's tried to leave? I'll bet she's spitting mad, your highness. She can barely handle you telling her what to do," Nate boasted, evidently deriving the most pleasure from this out of anyone.

"Careful, Nathaniel. She listens to me just fine," Chuck returned, giving his friend a look of disapproval. On a different day he may have also found Blair's current predicament a tad funny, but not after the news that preceded it. The prince had been made well aware of the poet, Wyatt's, return to the English court. Though other than that, and how he'd instructed Lady Blair's guards, the secretary had yet to reveal anything else. He hadn't even specified that he'd run into the man himself, or that Serena had been present, but instead only notified the prince of Wyatt's immediate arrival.

"Apologies, your highness. I do think it may do us and her good though to keep her in there at least the remainder of the day, if not also the night. It would give you time to properly layout and proceed with whatever strategy you intended to take. Unless of course, sending her away is also an option?" Nate furthered, though when Chuck only threw him a more intensified look; he followed it with a nervous laugh. "I only meant temporarily—"

"Your highness could send her to one of his nearby castles or homes under royal ownership. If that is what he wished to do, that is?" Dan suggested, making sure it was apparent he was only trying to be helpful. Nate rolled his eyes at him, but Dan ignored him, keeping his gaze with the prince.

Chuck swirled around his cup of wine slowly, pursing his lips as he thought it over. Then he shook his head. "I don't think Blair would do well with being sent away. I think it would cause more trouble for me, and definitely instant suspicion I was up to something. She's quite clever, you know."

Nate groaned, "Yes, we know you think so, your Highness." Dan figured Duke Archibald didn't agree with this sentiment, though if that were the case, he figured him wrong. The Lady Blair was indeed clever in a lot of ways, and if nothing else she had found the secret in maintaining the prince's interest for longer than any other maiden.

"No, leave her to her chambers. Have lunch and sweets delivered for her, and following that send in the royal seamstress and jeweler to design some new things for her. She's in need of some new dresses, as of recent. And make sure she knows they're from me," Chuck instructed, carefully going over each detail as if he was mentally checking it off in the process.

"And if she asks why she's being contained, your highness?" Dan followed up respectfully. He folded his hands behind his back as the prince seemed to think this over as well.

"She doesn't need a reason. If the prince wants her to stay in her chambers for a week without explanation, he can make it so," Nate offered, piping in again. Dan thought for sure at this point the prince would just ignore him, but instead the duke seemed to regain the prince's attention with this statement. He turned round, looking back at him instead of Dan.

"He's right. She doesn't need a reason, not yet," Chuck confirmed, and Dan noticed Nate grinned at this decision. However, when the prince turned round, he wasn't sharing in any kind of smile. Instead, he looked troubled still, perhaps even overwhelmed. It wasn't something Dan was used to seeing when it came to him.

"If she presses or protests tell the guards to inform her the prince has given no reason yet, not to them. I do not wish to scare her with this, or drive her mind wild in question, but if she will not listen then they may be more forceful with her," he instructed. He then held out his cup, beckoning Dan to refill it for him. Typically, there would be servant nearby, if not several, to see to this and everything else, but this as well as all meetings going forward about Lady Blair or Master Wyatt were to be in private. Dan was surprised at times Duke Archibald had made it in the room, he could be so brash in nature, but it had become quite clear overtime the prince trusted him perhaps above all others. He wondered what a man would have to do to receive such trust from someone like the prince? He was not someone to give it easily, or freely. And Duke Archibald didn't seem particularly clever so it wasn't like he'd strategized himself into this position. The friendship definitely seemed genuine between the two. No, a relationship like this for a man like him had surely cost him something. But what?

"Do you hesitate in protest, Mister Humphrey?" the prince asked, bringing Dan from his thoughts. Dan quickly shook his head, not wanting his moment of distraction to present in anyway as disobedience.

"No, your highness. I think that is an excellent course of action," he praised.

"Do you really?" Chuck asked, narrowing his eyes skeptically. Then he took a step closer to him. "Within reason, Humphrey, if you are to be my secretary and help advise or assist me in my duties, I will need somewhat of a real opinion from you. Surely you got to this position for a reason, and it clearly wasn't your rank or breeding, so I dare say it must have been a combination of your smarts and ability to take instruction."

Dan felt somewhat impressed by the prince in that moment; and it wasn't because he'd found a way to both insult and compliment him at the same time. He wondered if perhaps there was more to the prince than he'd previously seen or recognized.

"I will be honest with you, your highness. While I do think that what I know of Lady Blair she may be somewhat perturbed if kept locked away too long… I also think his highness has made it clear to her and everyone we are at the will of the crown," Dan explained carefully. He made sure to maintain eye contact with the prince while he spoke, as he figured in this moment it was of upmost importance. This surely was still a test of sorts from the prince, and he wanted to pass it.

"Very good. I shall try and always be fair with you then, and remember it was I who asked for such honesty," the prince concluded, turning back around to make his way back over to the seating area in front of the fireplace. He took a long drink of his freshly poured and very full glass of wine. Dan could feel Nate's eyes burning into him, and he was certain the duke was giving him quite the look. However, Dan had no intentions of meeting his gaze to find out what sort.

"Shall I go and proceed now, your highness? Update the guards, in case Lady Blair need further informing. Call upon the kitchen, seamstress, and jeweler," Dan listed, wanting the other man to know he'd remembered each thing he'd told him.

"Yes, I suppose the Duke and I can take it from here, as long as there's nothing else, you'd like to tell me?" Chuck returned, his back to Dan, and the glow of the fire before him illuminating him in the darkness of the room now.

Dan knew it was likely this question was just his procedure of sorts, making sure they'd gone over everything they needed to. But a small voice in the back of his head warned him perhaps the prince already knew more than he let on, that royal spies or gossips had already reported to him that Dan had physically been with Wyatt and Serena earlier today in the courtyard. Or maybe somehow one of those maidens had come back around unnoticed and heard the bits about his muse, his marriage, or any of the other details divulged so willingly in his presence. Could it really be? Or was he simply overthinking things again.

"No, your highness," Dan heard himself finally answer, and he instantly regretted it. Perhaps nothing would ever come of it, but there was a chance something would. But just as his mouth had been so compelled to speak without his permission, his feet also seemed keen on moving without his direction. He'd turned and left the room, as well as both men inside, before he'd fully grasped what he'd done.

XOXOXOXOXO

"Now that the commonwealth is gone," Nate joked, coming to sit beside Chuck in front of the fire almost immediately after the royal secretary had exited the room.

Chuck looked to him, quirking his brow in question.

"Have something you couldn't say in front of Humphrey, Nathaniel?" he asked, wondering what it could possibly be. It's not like his secretary would ever dare breathe a word of their conversations within this room outside the doors, unless instructed to by the prince himself.

"Not necessarily, just didn't see the point in making him privy to everything. He is new after all, and new can't always be trusted," Nate pointed out. The prince couldn't really argue against this as for the most part he had always been of a similar opinion.

"Well, out with it then," Chuck encouraged.

"I got some more intel on this Wyatt fellow. Had a spy placed among those he traveled with from France to here. Not to mention my father and I have quite a few contacts and informants all throughout the French court, where he's apparently been as of late," his friend explained, then retrieving a folded-up piece of parchment from one of his pockets. When he'd fully unfolded it, Chuck couldn't help, but note it was quite large.

"Just give me what I need know, Nathaniel," Chuck requested, feeling the all too familiar pit in his stomach begin to form. He felt quite a range of feelings about Wyatt, Blair, and this whole ordeal, but none of them were ever good ones.

"Of course, your highness. Let's see," Nate sighed, his eyes beginning to roam all around the page to get the gist of it. Chuck turned away from him, taking a sip of his wine. He didn't want to watch the arrangement of facial expressions to follow, and have to guess what all was on the page, before Nate went ahead and just spelled it out for him.

"Well, you'll like this bit," Nate said cheerfully, and Chuck could hear the grin in his voice. For a moment he almost felt hopeful it didn't have anything bad on it. "Master Thomas Wyatt is married to a Mrs. Elizabeth Brooke."

"He's married?" Chuck asked, looking right at Nate. "Do you think she came along?"

Nate's face fell some, and Chuck suspected the rest would not be as good of news.

"I doubt it. It also says here they're estranged. He supports her financially, but she lives in the French countryside and he spends most of his time at court. Sounds like he might enjoy the French women more than his English wife—" Nate stopped himself, realizing what he'd said, but at a moment too late.

Chuck glared at him, before raising angrily from his seat. He took a swig of his cup, finishing off the rest of the wine, and then threw it across the room. He huffed, "What else does it say?"

"His family had a residence in France, growing up. He spent a lot of his childhood and youth there. That's where he met—well, you know," Nate furthered, clearly not as happy about revealing the details as he had been before.

"Any information on that time specifically?" Chuck asked slowly, each word struggling to come out. He both didn't want to know the answer, and felt he would die if he didn't know it soon.

"Look, you won't like this next part. And before you go wild, you must know it is not confirmed. This part could very well be a rumor, but as your friend I thought you deserved to investigate it further if that be your will," Nate told him. Chuck wondered what it could be that his friend felt the need to try and prepare him for it to this extent.

"Speak, Nathaniel," he spat, ordering his friend in a way he rarely did.

"There are some who claim, that Master Thomas Wyatt and Lady Blair were once engaged. It obviously fell through if so, and I'm waiting on those details of how that came about. But beyond that there are even rumors to suggest they were lovers—"

"She gave her maidenhead to me," Chuck interrupted, only realizing after he spoke that he'd moved a few steps towards Nate in a more aggressive way than intended. He stopped, straightening himself out. "I saw the blood, Nathaniel. I kept the sheets in case I'd need them later for... I don't know what, but I have hard proof she was a virgin."

"Oh," Nate replied after a while, not sure what to say for a moment. Then he cleared his throat. "Forgive me, your highness. But as you are an experienced man there are other ways for a woman to please a man, are there not?"

Chuck gave him a death stare, but said nothing in protest. They both knew Nate was right, not necessarily about Blair, but about there being other ways for a woman and man to be intimate. But the thought of Blair doing any of those things with anyone before him, especially a poet of such low rank in comparison, both made him feel nauseous and volatile.

"I want to speak to him. Tonight," Chuck insisted suddenly, giving his friend a look that would let him know he wouldn't be backing down on this one.

Nate looked concerned. "Your highness to call him in for questioning so soon will not likely give you the true answers you desire—"

"I didn't say he had to be called in for questioning. I said I want to speak to him. I want to see him for myself, what sort of a man he is," the prince clarified, though there was still an evident dangerous look in his dark eyes.

"You mean as in just approaching him in court, like walking up and talking to him?" Nate asked incredulously.

"I believe that's what I mean exactly. I want him caught off-guard and I don't want Blair there the first time I meet him. If I even try just calling him to the throne room, he'll have time to prepare his words before he gets there. Perhaps not much time, but for one who deals in words how much time do you think he really needs to fit them to whatever story he decides?" Chuck furthered. He didn't really need to explain his reasoning to Nate for this. He definitely didn't need his permission to proceed. But his friend was his confident on this matter and therefore he felt it in his best interest to let him know some of his thought process. He noticed Nathaniel seemed to be already focused on something new however. He was staring down at the prince's leg, the one with the wound.

"What is it?" Chuck asked, averting his eyes downward. He hoped it wasn't bleeding again, or worse infected and leaking something else. Sure, it was just Nate, but he found it embarrassing even when the doctors saw it in its worse state.

"Your highness should sit or use your cane the doctor gave you. Your leg is shaking, can you not feel it?" Nate asked, looking genuinely concerned as he rose from his seat. He grabbed hold of the cane which had been left propped up against the wall since Chuck had arrived. But Chuck shook his head at it and would not take it, instead he sat.

"I will not use that, not today. Especially not when I see him. I'll not have him think I'm some old man he can fool or best physically, or otherwise," Chuck revealed, looking down at the ground. He put his hand on his leg to try and steady it. After a moment it stopped shaking, but it did hurt something terrible.

"It's not as if you and Master Wyatt are to have a physical match, your highness. Your guards would kill him if he tried any sort of brawl with you. And honestly, he's a poet, and you a prince. Do you not think yourself has been likely better physically trained than him?" Nate offered.

"I don't even know what he looks like, or what age he is. If he's closer to Blair's age, he'll be younger than me. And tell me honestly Nathaniel you didn't feel much better and spry around seventeen than you do at almost thirty now?" the prince challenged.

Nate made a face, but said nothing, confirming for the both of them he agreed with the prince, even if he didn't like it. Then he shook his head. "I do not think he shall be that young, your highness."

"Just see to my wishes, Nathaniel. I want him dining with the rest of court in the great hall tonight. There's to be a banquet for anyone at court. Blair will be spending the evening in her chambers. But I want Wyatt present," Chuck certified.

"Yes, your highness. I shall see to it that it's done," Nate vowed.

XOXOXOXOXO

Chuck sauntered over to the man Nate had pointed out to him, eyeing him up and down before he arrived to the table. So, this was Master Thomas Wyatt, the so-called boy of Blair's past. Funny, he didn't look much like a boy now. In fact, he didn't look like he could be much younger than Chuck even, which in turn made the prince wonder the age difference between this man and Blair. This Thomas Wyatt sat alone at the end of the table, leaning over candlelight as he politely ate his dinner. He didn't appear to be very consumed by anything around him, but instead his own thoughts as he looked to no one in particular, nor did he notice the prince approaching.

"Mister Wyatt," Chuck addressed, alas announcing his presence. The other man turned to look up at him, the surprise slowly registering in his face. When he realized who Chuck was, he began to move a little quicker, jumping up, and bowing before him; the prince could not help, but be pleased by the other man's compelled urgency.

"Your highness," Tom acknowledged, keeping his head down for a few moments longer than necessary as he spoke.

"I hear you're a poet," Chuck remarked, watching as this notion caused the other man to lift both his head and eyes once more. When their gaze connected Wyatt seemed to try and shrug this statement off, as if it had been a compliment and he too modest to accept it. He shook his head.

"Oh. I write poems. Alas I could not claim to know how to be 'a poet'." Tom smiled as if further amused by this impression. For some reason Chuck found his smile to be unsettling, and he knew this was because it was far different than his own. It was nothing like prince's devilish smirk, but much more thoughtful—and his eyes, his eyes were that of a dreamer. The worst kind of man, in the prince's opinion.

Chuck cocked his brow, and his expression gradually became more serious than before. He nodded.

"I have read some. I like them." He wasn't sure this was exactly true, but it wasn't entirely a lie either. Chuck had liked the poems that in ways had reminded him of Blair, but in turn her being the subject only intensified his hatred for the poet. And he was sure his secretary or Nathaniel, who had been present for most readings, would be quick to argue he'd cared for them at all.

"Forgive me, your highness. I do not know what to say," Tom replied, seeming still cautious in his accepting of any of the prince's compliments. He grinned nervously, but it in turn fell from his face as Chuck took a few steps closer to him; the prince leaned in to speak quietly in his ear, but stalked over him in the process.

"Were you in love with Lady Blair Waldorf?" he asked plainly, not caring to have to put up with any more pleasantries before gaining the information in which he sought.

Tom's eyes widened and he stuttered for a moment.

"I—I— "

Chuck leaned in further, speaking no louder in tone, yet stronger in voice.

"Duke Archibald tells me you were once engaged." The words clung bitterly to his tongue, and he felt his fists ball at his sides from the mere notion. The other man shook his head as he trembled a little.

"No. That's not true," he denied.

Chuck smirked in a sort of crazed looking way and made no move to back off, only pushing in further to speak yet again.

"Did you love her?" he repeated his former question. Chuck could practically feel the nerves radiating off him. The prince could only wonder if this meant his attempts at intimidation had been successful, or if Wyatt had more than he let on to be so tense about.

The other man shook his head again, licking his lips, and looking all around as if to find the answer elsewhere in the room. Then as if it had given it to him, he spoke.

"Lady Blair is so beautiful; it is the duty of every man to love her. But I have found such a beauty to be cursed as she who possess it could never love a man like myself. A woman of such splendor cannot help, but in her nature allow her ambition to both outweigh and exceed her heart." Tom sighed, lowering his voice further. He was speaking in circles and Chuck didn't like it. Perhaps he thought he could outsmart the prince. Chuck doubted it, but the mere notion insulted him greatly. He watched as the poet paused for a brief moment, as if to consider his next words, before he continued.

"You ask if I loved her? So, in short yes, of course I loved her, but from a distance. And personally… I have a wife," he clarified, though his voice seemed to deaden some at this revelation. It was as if Chuck could hear the regret over this, still ever present in him, and he did not like it. He pulled back so that their gaze met, his much harsher, dark eyes instantly intimidating Tom's softer, green ones. The prince then grabbed one of the other man's arms forcefully with one of his hands, and used the other to roughly pat his chest. He smirked at him, but in a demented and wild sort of way. He felt this Wyatt fellow was not being all the way honest with him, in fact he pretty much knew this to be certain, and he needed to get away from him before his anger got the best of him. This would not be the proper time or place to dispose of him, should it come to that.

"Enjoy the feast," Chuck concluded, releasing him.

Tom backed up instantly into a bow, sounding jumpy.

"Ye—yes, your highness. Th—thank you," he relinquished in a stutter.

Chuck scoffed, wondering if the other man had misunderstood the meaning in his words. Frankly he didn't care to stick around longer to elaborate even if he had not, that would be Tom Wyatt's loss not his. He stalked off, no longer feeling to be in much of a partying mood. He was not certain he was entirely pleased with their conversation, and even less assured that there would not be more to come from it. He could not help, but feel that Wyatt had spoken with intention, and Chuck was smarter than to trust the words of a man who played with them for a living.

XOXOXOXOXO

Tom Wyatt stood for a moment, a bit stunned, as he watched the prince of England saunter away from where he stood. He felt somewhat confused by the interaction, but he was fairly certain it had ended with the prince either indirectly or directly threatening him. He reached a hand up to his shirt, adjusting the collar the other man had just ruffled. Then he sat back down in his seat, and stared once more at his food. He wasn't very hungry anymore. His first day back to England, hadn't gone exactly how he'd planned or hoped it to.

"So, what did a gentleman like yourself do to piss off the prince?" a foreign voice asked. Tom turned to see an older man with a devilish sort of grin sit down beside him. He was dressed in very fine clothing, and jewels. While he didn't recognize the stranger, he definitely had to be someone of high nobility. High enough, Tom could not refuse his conversation so abruptly or rudely. He sighed inwardly, back to the ridiculous class practices of the British court already.

"I beg pardon?" he asked innocently. Not being sure who this man was, or therefore what his motives were, he wasn't exactly keen on revealing any details yet.

"Please, I saw it, as did anyone around. You've clearly ruffled Prince Charles's feathers. So, let's see who could you be…" the man acted as if he was trying to remember something, but Tom sensed it to be some kind of act. Then his eyes lit up.

"Ah yes, I bet you're the poet," the man finished, now smirking at him.

Tom frowned, "How would you—I'm not sure I understand what is going on. You see I have just arrived to court today, and that's the first time I've ever met the prince. And who am I to receive such an audience, and so informally? Well, I am sure there must be some mistake of identity—"

"I assure you there isn't, Thomas," the other man returned, not faltering at all in his expression, that told the poet he knew all his deepest and darkest secrets. And though this was likely to be untrue, it unsettled him greatly.

"I go by Tom," Tom corrected, not sure what else to say. He looked around nervously to see if anyone else was watching them, but there didn't appear to be. However, he knew this meant little. There were always eyes and ears at court where you'd least expect them. Not to mention, whoever this mystery man before him was.

"Well, that's good. Otherwise from what I've been hearing around things would definitely get a little confusing when the other one returns. That is, if you're planning on sticking around till then?" The other man's voice and eyebrows both rose in question.

"What?" Tom asked, feeling somewhat overwhelmed in bewilderment.

"Oh, come on. You are a man of words, are you not? You cannot think I believe you not to be cleverer than this? We both know why you've been summoned to court," the man furthered, lowering his voice. This time it seemed his turn to glance around the room and see if anyone else had become privy to their exchange. It still appeared that no one else had.

"I was invited back to court. The letter said my poems had reached high places and if I were to return immediately, I would find one if not many offers of patronages from those in high stations. And while as an artist I hate to admit answering to the call of coin, one does need it to live, and live I did on it previously at the French court," Tom told him, speaking some in jest as he tried to at least regain appearance of composure. It wasn't easy, the night had been very unsettling thus far.

"High places? Yes, I'd say that part was at least true," the older man chuckled, bringing his cup of to his lips and taking a long sip of wine or ale. He then picked up the pitcher, refilling both of their glasses, and smiled at Tom.

"If we're going to be friends, Tom. You'll need to be yet more honest with me. You see, I have my way of finding all the courts significant secrets. So, tell me about the Lady Blair," he bid, and Tom's eyes darted to meet his own. At the mention of Blair's name for what was not the first time that night, he felt the hair stand up on the back of his neck.

"I see you've read my poetry, Sir. If that's what this is, then you know all there is to tell be in the verses and lines," Tom told him, having a feeling at the very least the subject of his muse was blown. After all, the prince himself had questioned him about Blair just moments ago.

"I know you know," the man said finally, his voice lowering again.

Tom just stared back at him for a few moments, then feeling increasingly anxious about the interaction, he went as if to rise to his feet. The other man grabbed hold of his arm as if to stop him, and his grip was rather firm. He noted it wasn't much different than the prince's had been, and he then realized how similar the two men appeared. The older man before him, leaned in close, to speak in his ear.

"The girl you love has found herself in a very dangerous game, with even more dangerous players. So, allow me to confirm any rumors we both know, you know are true. Lady Blair was given to Lord Thomas Grey, Earl of Essex, but more importantly soon to be what we like to call a fluff prince of England. He's not of royal blood and never will be king, but it's a nice position to find yourself seated in nonetheless. However, that wasn't really where our story started, was it?" He paused for a moment, giving Tom a look that almost suggested the man wished for him to fill this part of the story in. He would not be granting him such satisfaction though.

"Fine, allow me to go on then. The story really starts with you, in France. Your poetry has done a fine enough job filling in those gaps for anyone who missed them. And I'll grant you this omission, had this just been the tale of two Tom's, you may have actually stood a chance, my boy," he said, a sort of wicked grin tugging at the corners of his mouth again. He finished off his second glass of wine since sitting down and then traced the rim of his cup, afterwards examining the red liquid stained on his fingertips. He seemed to delight in the sight of it for some reason, almost as if it reminded him of something.

"Now to my favorite part, though forgive me, I've always found the villains to be most interesting. The girl has fallen in love with someone she never should have—"

"So, it's true then? Blair is involved with Prince Charles now?" Tom asked, not able to help himself. The other man seemed to only derive pleasure from his question.

He laughed, "See, I knew you knew more than you were letting on. Though you are not a dumb man to sit here and let me confirm it all first."

"And how do I know you're telling the truth, or that you even know anything for that matter?" Tom returned, irritated that he'd somehow become a full participant in this conversation now.

The man smirked, "The ability to tell if one is lying or not, is a gift only given to a few of us. However, I'll assure you my sources all come from the highest of places."

"Is Blair in danger? I've heard… things about the prince," Tom asked alas, his expression darkening, and his voice just above a whisper.

The stranger chuckled again. "I am sure you have. Prince Charles has quite the reputation among court, and for not so good reasons. But yes, Lady Blair is in vast danger. The stakes in her game are as high as they could be now. If she wins, she'll take the Queen, but if she loses…" He trailed off as his lips twisted once more into a now rather cruel looking smile. He then rose to his feet, giving Tom a final pat on the shoulder as he leaned down once more to speak quietly in his ear.

"You shouldn't have come back to court, Tom," he remarked. And then just as if he'd appeared out of nowhere when he'd came, he seemingly did the same in his exit.

XOXOXOXOXO

A/N: Introducing some different characters perspectives so you can get a broader view of all the players, and what's going on. I think I'm going to try my best to update on Fridays of every week, but please forgive me if I can't always make it happen. This chapter was longer than intended, but I really didn't want to cut any of it or push it off till the next one. That being said, I'd love to hear all your thoughts on the new characters or if you're still enjoying the story. I couldn't believe there were still people reading, and even that kind of enough to review and let me know. It really means a lot to me.

Also was I the only one who noticed the official gossip girl Instagram/twitter/Facebook account made a post? And it had a picture of the original cast? Can we please manifest a proper reboot with the OG cast? I feel like even if they couldn't get all the players full time, if they could just secure Leighton and Ed and like bring in some new characters (the kids of the OG's or something) it really would do well. I mean we're in the time of bringing back everything we love, so why not GG? A girl can dream…