He was surprised by Harriet's tearful reaction to his appearance. Were they tears of joy or tears of sorrow? His first reaction made him want to step forward and hold her close, wipe the tears from her eyes and tell her it was alright. But, now as he thought it over, perhaps such a thing would be foolish. They were married still, but their relationship was certainly not what it had been before the loss of Lizzie. Instead, he stood before her with a desperate, pleading expression on his face as if to tell her he would have held her if he could have.
That brief smile that passed on her countenance was enough to make his heart temporarily soar. When had she last smiled like that in response to him? It had to have been at least a month, given the time since they'd last spoken. But, even a week had seemed to pass like an eon lately. This smile, however, faded soon after. This did not surprise him, however, for he knew something as simple yet cheerful as a smile could not last very long nowadays. The hitch in her breath caused him to wince, flinching subtly as he looked aside.
"I am sorry, Harriet..." he mumbled before slowly turning his gaze back to her. But, she had placed her hand over her stomach and looked away from him, which managed only to concern him further. "...Harriet?"
"I don't want to forget. Nor do I wish you had traded your life for hers. It we do not have sorrow i our lives, how would we know what happiness truly feels like?" He watched with a pained expression
"No one wishes to forget..." he finally whispered after a bout of silence. "But we can not let this grief consume us, can we?" A sad laugh escaped from his lips, mimicking a gentle sob. "Oh, I still do wish it had been me instead of her...I am sorry, Harriet, but it is only the truth." He knew this selfish reply would anger her, though he hoped she wouldn't dwell on it now. "I'd rather live in bliss, though...I'd rather be concerned about what to wear hunting instead of what to wear to my daughter's funeral." It was a somber statement and he regretted it instantly, flinching again as if ready for Harriet to cry out. "I'm sorry..." But, his words were drowned out by the sound of a sob as his wife braced herself suddenly on the banister, her gaze filled with hurt as she looked to him.
“As I expected more from my husband. Do you not think I didn’t hear the names you called me? A bitch, a whore, you cursed my name Charles and you did it in public also." Harriet's chiding washed over him, causing Charles to look down at the steps below him as she slowly sat on one of the steps before him, her hand still protectively over their unborn child. "I'll admit I shouldn’t have shut myself away as I did and I am truly sorry for that, but you cannot blame this solely on me, you just can’t!” She let out a sob, a high-pitched cry that caused his stomach to churn. He was a horrible husband, a horrible father, a horrible king. How could he have done such a thing to his wife? She had been suffering just as much as him and he had ignored her just as much as she had him, hadn't he?! His next words must have been too harsh, for she suddenly looked up at him incredulously.
"I never stopped loving you, Charles; even if you were to send me to a nunnery, deem our children bastard, marry another, I would always love you...your words sound like threats...are they?" She had looked away from him then, head leaning against the railing. Again, Charles felt his stomach churn and he felt sick with himself. She had been right, in all honesty. He'd been horrible the day Lizzie died, absolutely horrible. For what seemed like ages, Charles merely stood on the steps, looking down at Harriet first with pity, then with regret. His own gray eyes watered slightly against all odds, as he too had thought they'd been drained of tears days and days before.
"I don't wish for them to be threats, Hallie..." he began, slowly lowering himself on the step beside her and pulling one knee toward his chest as he looked over at his wife. "I admit, I apologize for my rash behavior on...that day...but, I had asked you explicitly to leave the room, Hattie." He sighed, shaking his head. "And perhaps I was being selfish, but I simply didn't want you to die. I didn't want the baby to die, either...surely you must understand, Harriet. Right?"
Slowly, he moved closer to her while still sitting on the step, hoping she wouldn't move away from him. "I do not believe I could ever love another as I love you either. You were beside me as I claimed the throne for the Rayleighs, you were there when Father died...no, I do not believe another woman could take that place. You've certainly created large shoes to fill, my love." Slowly, he looked over at her, sitting in silence again. Finally, the silence absolutely killing him, he slid off of the step beside Harriet and lowered him a few steps down before turning so that he was directly before Harriet.
"I do not know if things are going to be the same for us, Harriet...given how this month has passed..." His words caught in his throat, unable to imagine such a life. "But, know that I would go to the ends of the world, fight the Lancastrian army hundreds of times, just to make things go back to the way they were before Lizzie died..."
He was not sure if it was the alcohol causing him to do so or simply his own stupid instinct, but Charles slowly reached out and, placing a hand under Harriet's jaw, turned her face so she was looking straight at him. With his hand still cupping her chin, Charles instinctively leaned forward in a quick motion, pressing his lips to hers before she could tell him not to.
That brief smile that passed on her countenance was enough to make his heart temporarily soar. When had she last smiled like that in response to him? It had to have been at least a month, given the time since they'd last spoken. But, even a week had seemed to pass like an eon lately. This smile, however, faded soon after. This did not surprise him, however, for he knew something as simple yet cheerful as a smile could not last very long nowadays. The hitch in her breath caused him to wince, flinching subtly as he looked aside.
"I am sorry, Harriet..." he mumbled before slowly turning his gaze back to her. But, she had placed her hand over her stomach and looked away from him, which managed only to concern him further. "...Harriet?"
"I don't want to forget. Nor do I wish you had traded your life for hers. It we do not have sorrow i our lives, how would we know what happiness truly feels like?" He watched with a pained expression
"No one wishes to forget..." he finally whispered after a bout of silence. "But we can not let this grief consume us, can we?" A sad laugh escaped from his lips, mimicking a gentle sob. "Oh, I still do wish it had been me instead of her...I am sorry, Harriet, but it is only the truth." He knew this selfish reply would anger her, though he hoped she wouldn't dwell on it now. "I'd rather live in bliss, though...I'd rather be concerned about what to wear hunting instead of what to wear to my daughter's funeral." It was a somber statement and he regretted it instantly, flinching again as if ready for Harriet to cry out. "I'm sorry..." But, his words were drowned out by the sound of a sob as his wife braced herself suddenly on the banister, her gaze filled with hurt as she looked to him.
“As I expected more from my husband. Do you not think I didn’t hear the names you called me? A bitch, a whore, you cursed my name Charles and you did it in public also." Harriet's chiding washed over him, causing Charles to look down at the steps below him as she slowly sat on one of the steps before him, her hand still protectively over their unborn child. "I'll admit I shouldn’t have shut myself away as I did and I am truly sorry for that, but you cannot blame this solely on me, you just can’t!” She let out a sob, a high-pitched cry that caused his stomach to churn. He was a horrible husband, a horrible father, a horrible king. How could he have done such a thing to his wife? She had been suffering just as much as him and he had ignored her just as much as she had him, hadn't he?! His next words must have been too harsh, for she suddenly looked up at him incredulously.
"I never stopped loving you, Charles; even if you were to send me to a nunnery, deem our children bastard, marry another, I would always love you...your words sound like threats...are they?" She had looked away from him then, head leaning against the railing. Again, Charles felt his stomach churn and he felt sick with himself. She had been right, in all honesty. He'd been horrible the day Lizzie died, absolutely horrible. For what seemed like ages, Charles merely stood on the steps, looking down at Harriet first with pity, then with regret. His own gray eyes watered slightly against all odds, as he too had thought they'd been drained of tears days and days before.
"I don't wish for them to be threats, Hallie..." he began, slowly lowering himself on the step beside her and pulling one knee toward his chest as he looked over at his wife. "I admit, I apologize for my rash behavior on...that day...but, I had asked you explicitly to leave the room, Hattie." He sighed, shaking his head. "And perhaps I was being selfish, but I simply didn't want you to die. I didn't want the baby to die, either...surely you must understand, Harriet. Right?"
Slowly, he moved closer to her while still sitting on the step, hoping she wouldn't move away from him. "I do not believe I could ever love another as I love you either. You were beside me as I claimed the throne for the Rayleighs, you were there when Father died...no, I do not believe another woman could take that place. You've certainly created large shoes to fill, my love." Slowly, he looked over at her, sitting in silence again. Finally, the silence absolutely killing him, he slid off of the step beside Harriet and lowered him a few steps down before turning so that he was directly before Harriet.
"I do not know if things are going to be the same for us, Harriet...given how this month has passed..." His words caught in his throat, unable to imagine such a life. "But, know that I would go to the ends of the world, fight the Lancastrian army hundreds of times, just to make things go back to the way they were before Lizzie died..."
He was not sure if it was the alcohol causing him to do so or simply his own stupid instinct, but Charles slowly reached out and, placing a hand under Harriet's jaw, turned her face so she was looking straight at him. With his hand still cupping her chin, Charles instinctively leaned forward in a quick motion, pressing his lips to hers before she could tell him not to.