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Forged: Blood and Steel

Forged: Blood and Steel

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...For all favour, glory, or might, that yet thunder rolls around the throne of kings. (Always Accepting! And Open to OC's)

5,214 readers have visited Forged: Blood and Steel since Calvazara created it.

Copyright: The creator of this roleplay has attributed some or all of its content to the following sources:

the concept of this rp is taken from history and the war of the roses.

Introduction

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β€œThese bloody days have broken my heart…
The bell tower showed me such a sight
That in my head sticks day and night.
There did I learn out of a grate,
For all favour, glory, or might,
That yet thunder rolls around the throne of kings.” – Thomas Wyatt










To pass into legend is a fate most men yearn for although many seldom achieve, no matter how gallant or honourable only a fair few will have their names remembered in history. For the men of Seabel not many will have this honour despite their bravery and sacrifice, for life is cruel when you are living but death can be crueller for who will remember you? Your children will, yes. Your grandchildren will, most probable. But sooner rather than later your name will cease to fall from their lips, your memory extinguished and your sacrifices unknown; you will become one of the forgotten.


I suppose I am starting on a rather solemn point, but it is a poignant one nonetheless, for our story is about two families both shrouded by hate and blinded by power, they will tear a country apart, loose those they hold dear and all in the name of a throne. Ah-but not just any throne, a throne stained red by the blood of thousands, a throne hardened by the clashing of swords, a throne to the country of Seabel. It was a prize that much is true but the true story has been clouded over the years, each generation adding a new twist, a new hero…a new villain. What is fact and what is myth is hard to distinguish, but I am here to tell you the truth; to tell you the tale of Seabel’s bloodiest period in history; a story of war, love and betrayal, it may seem to be part of a ballad but I assure you this is the truth behind the forging of Seabel’s future; but to get to the present I must begin in the past and so begins the journey of our tale…


Seabel is a powerful Island nation, who’s history stretches back thousands of years to a time when man still lived in mud huts and were considered savages or barbarians, these were simple people who lived off the land, whom thought he world ended at their shores. That was until the β€˜First Few’ arrived off the North-Western coast, from a land across the Black Sea called Halla, bringing with them education, innovations and new religions. The new settlers did not conquer but rather integrated in with the β€˜Old Ones’ taught them new things, educated them and slowly but surely the inhabitants of Seabel began to develop.. These,β€˜ first few’ managed to turn a untamed island into one of the most desired Kingdoms of the old world; however this did not come without sacrifice. Many battles were fought on land and sea for power over Seabel, a strategic stronghold for any country wanting to conquer more land, no more so than between the people of Seabel and the people of Luxor, who’s feud has seemingly been taking place since the original settlers and has continued onwards. Over the years many King’s have devised peace treaties with Luxor and many have been broken, their relationship was and remains fragile, friendships do not last long and treaties even less.


However this is not the only problem Seabel face as the country its self has in recent years become divided between two regions; the North and the South, dividing the country in half by war. History will come to know this period as the β€˜Dynastic Wars’ where supporters of two rival branches of the House Davenport fought over the crown of Seabel. The two great Houses of Lancaster and Rayleigh have had a feud stretching centuries, both having claims to the throne, skirmishes between supporters have happened in the past but now war reins over Seabel as these families vie with blood for their head to sit upon the throne.


When the Old King Tiberius died leaving no living male heirs, the throne went to one of his nephews, either Robert Lancaster or Harold Rayleigh…Robert ascended the throne and thus the feud began. Although rivals and competitors for the throne the Rayleigh’s remained at court with the Lancaster’s, both buying their time, waiting for the opportune moment to strike. The moment came Francis Rayleigh was executed for treason by King Harold Lancaster, Francis’s son, Charles rode South with his family back to his family’s estate and waged war on House Lancaster.


Many battles were fought and lost until King Harold was slain by Charles in the Battle of Mountains Pass and soon after seized the countries capital of Briar, driving the Lancaster’s and their supporters to exile in the North and the Rayleigh’s became the reigning family. To add another twist to the tale the two Queens’ are sisters, their marriages dividing a family in two, forever dividing them as enemies.


Lying in wait in the furthest northern cities, the Lancaster army are preparing once again, the new King James has rallied his supporters both old and new and prepares to march south to reclaim his throne. Soon Seabel will once again be thrown into a Civil War and the country stands at its most pivotal point in history; thousands will dies, neighbour will turn on neighbour, brother upon brother in a war which will define a country.








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Charles Rayleigh, King of Seabel, is the eldest son of the late Francis Rayleigh who was executed by King Harold, after his father’s death Charles declared war upon the Lancaster’s and after the defeating the King upon the battlefield Charles took the crown of Seabel. He is an excellent military strategist, not only by defeating the Lancastrian army but for his previous skill in battle. Once a reckless man, who abused his wealth and power he has mellowed since the marriage to his wife, becoming a dutiful and affectionate monarch, husband and father. || FC: Tom Hiddleston || TAKEN


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Harriet Rayleigh, Queen of Seabel, is the eldest daughter of Henry Stanford and sister to the exiled Queen. She was married to Charles a little over five years ago when her father fledged loyalty to the Rayleigh’s. Harriet is very much her father’s daughter, passionate and ambitious yet fearful for her children’s sakes, the throne may be in the Rayleigh’s hands now but she must bear the King a son in order for their dynasty to continue. || FC: Rebecca Ferguson || TAKEN


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Mary Rayleigh, Duchess of Vale, the widow of the late Francis Rayleigh, she play a large role in persuading her son to rise up against the Lancaster’s after the execution of her husband. Mary is a strong woman, with a hatred which runs deep for the Lancaster’s and their loyalists, she trusts very few people, least of all the Stanford’s after the youngest daughter’s betrayal. || FC: Michelle Fairley || RESERVED



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Charlotte Fitzroy, Duchess of Clerence, is the eldest child of Francis and Mary Rayleigh and wife of William Fitzroy. Elegant and graceful she is popular at court and rather close with her younger brother of a year, Charles. Her marriage to William was purely one of connivance but she has grown fond of him, if only for her children’s sake. Her children are her sole purpose in life she is adamant to leave them in a high position and will do anything to achieve this. || FC: Lotte Verbeek || OPEN


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William Fitzroy, Duke of Clerence, is the husband of Charlotte and brother-in-law of King Charles. His family have been strong supporters of the Rayleigh’s from the beginning and his loyalty was rewarded with the hand of the King’s sister, along with land, titles and greater wealth. His loyalty is unwavering but so is his lust for power and he seeks to increase such through his children, as well as getting them into high posisions.|| FC: David Oakes || OPEN


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Jasper Rayleigh, Prince of Seabel, is the youngest son of the Rayleigh’s and is very much like his older brother. He is loyal and protective over his family, he will defend Charles claim to the throne and his children’s until the day he dies. || FC: Eddie Redmayne || OPEN


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Margaret Rayleigh, Princess of Seabel, is the youngest child of the Rayleigh family. She has been very much sheltered and protected by her family and has lived most her life going in and out of sanctuary. She has a gentle soul but is slightly naΓ―ve to the world and perhaps trusts too easily. || FC: Sophie Turner || RESERVED






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Henry Stanford, Earle of Briar, is the father of two Queens, one sits on the throne whilst the other is in exile in the North. He takes no rejoice in the situation for his youngest daughter married the enemy and betrayed his family, dividing them in the process. Not only did he loose a daughter but also his eldest son and heir as he followed Eleanor north as she married her lover. Now he looks for his family’s future in his eldest daughter and his younger son, although he had β€˜disowned’ his daughter and son, he still thinks and worries about them often even if he does not show it. || FC: Russell Crowe || OPEN


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Annabelle Stanford, Countess of Briar, is a woman very much divided, she has two children in exile whilst another sits on the throne of Seabel, this was not something she wanted for her children. Annabelle is a loving and nurturing mother, she is loyal to the Rayleigh’s for her daughter and husbands sake, however always keeps Eleanor and Jonathon in her prayers and close to her heart, she longs for the day she will see them again. || FC: Joely Richards || TAKEN


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George Stanford, Knight of the Garter, is the youngest child of the Stanford’s and also the heir to his father’s title and land since his elder brother, Jon’s betrayal. He is very close to his sister Harriet and solely loyal to her family. George has become very influential at court under her influence, as well as their father and had recently been appointed a member of the Knights of the Garter a very great honour. || FC: Richard Madden || OPEN






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James Lancaster, Exiled King of Seabel, is the son of the late Harold Lancaster whom he saw slaughtered on the battlefield at the hands of Charles Rayleigh. On that day he had no option but to retreat or face complete desolation of his troop. He fled North with his family and those loyal to him, along with his new bride, Eleanor Stanford. James is preparing to re-take his throne and bring the tyrants to their knee’s by any means possible. || FC: Jonathan Rhys Meyers || TAKEN


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Eleanor Lancaster, Exiled Queen of Seabel, is the wife of the King James, married for little under two years, it has been a relatively happy marriage although marred by the loss of two children and the disowning from her family, she knows now that she can never return to them as she is known as a traitor amongst those whom she once called kin. However, there is time to rejoice as the Queen has just found out she is expecting again. Although she is not without her own fears; she fears for her families safety daily and prays that she could see them again.|| FC: Scarlet Johansson || TAKEN


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Henry Lancaster, Duke of Arva, is the brother of the exiled King. A hot headed Prince with a greater want of women and wine rather than his duties, he has a lust for war and is rather excited for the prospect of war between the two Houses once again so he can create a name in blood for himself like his brother and father. He is currently in exile with James in the North. || FC: Henry Cavill || OPEN


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Bess Lancaster, Duchess of Arva, is the wife of the Henry Lancaster and the daughter of a very wealthy Northern Earl. She married the Duke only a few months prior from an offer made by the King to secure her father support and men. Bess is a hard woman, strong, intelligent and independent; she has a dangerous mind and could quite possibly push for power through her husband. || FC: Katie McGrath || OPEN


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Sara Lancaster, Exiled Princess of Seabel, is the younger sister of James and Henry, with her mother and father dead she has been left in the care of her brothers, just another pawn in their race for the throne. She is a gentle soul who will do her duty with her head held high and dignified like a true princess; many see her beauty but most seldom see the iron within her bones. || FC: Eleanor Tomlinson || OPEN









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Be as inventive as you like with the CS just make sure that everything this filled out.




The Rules



^Do not submit a character if you are not going to stick with it. This is going to be a series of roleplays so only submit if you can commit!
^You will not be accepted if you do not:
1. Use the character sheet provided.
2. Fill out EVERYTHING on the character sheet.
--YOU WILL BE REJECTED OTHERWISE--
^Please...follow the rules. They're up here for a reason.
^You MUST reserve a spot in the OOC before submitting a character.
--YOU WILL BE REJECTED OTHERWISE--
^Reservations last for 24 hours ONLY. Basic outline of CS must be up by then to secure a spot, must be completed within 48 hours.
^No one liners in posting. I will NOT accept them.
^Do not use text talk in posts. I will only accept proper grammar and spelling. NO EXCEPTIONS.
^You MUST use a REAL picture. NO EXCEPTIONS.
--YOU WILL BE REJECTED OTHERWISE--
^Secret Word for Reservations: You must be strong.
^Keep in time with the era
^Dont be a storyline whore
^No Mary Sues or Gary Stues; People have flaws, nobody is perfect!
^Be inventive with your characters,it makes them more interesting
^If there are too many females and not enough males then you WILL be asked to submit a second character which is a male, you WILL have to do this otherwise be excluded from the RP, its only fair.

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The GM of this roleplay hasn't created any rules! You can do whatever you like!

The Story So Far... Write a Post » as written by 5 authors

Setting

2 Characters Present

Character Portrait: Charles Rayleigh Character Portrait: Harriet Rayleigh
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Charles’ words surged through her body painfully and repetitively, like a dagger piercing her skin and her heart over and over again, her wounds were invisible but they were there all the same. They stung and ached and caused whatever strength she had left to leave her fragile body, it was similar to dying only the breath still remained in her lungs, her heart was beating painfully and her head was pounding uncontrollably, it was the closest she had ever felt to dying yet it was also the closest she felt to truly living. The sheer pain and weight of her emotions were beginning to crumble at the foundations of her hastily erected walls, how had she become so void so suddenly?

Harriet had spoken to Charles with words that she knew would hurt him, she had wanted to hurt him, make him feel some of the pain she was feeling in that very moment. She had wanted to take everything from him, herself, Cecily, the Kingdom…this babe, everything he so desperately wanted and needed, she had wanted to snatch away without a moment’s hesitation. The cruelness in Harriet’s heart for her husband made her stomach lurch with nausea, she loved him and yet all she wanted to do was destroy him. The feeling frightened her beyond belief but that fear only fuelled the fire within her soul, it nourished her anger and fed from her despair until she felt utterly hollow and in different towards Charles.

ImageNumbness followed the anger once it had subsided, she felt weightless similar to if she hadn’t been in her body at all. Her pain had gone, not even Charles’ words of utter anger or despair could lull her back into a sense of reality, his fist hitting the bed posts of their daughter beds did not frighten her, did not worry her, it did nothing for her. Harriet barely listened to him, her glassy hues were fixated on the child before her, everything else seemed distorted and dulled, not the sharp and piercing images or sounds she had been experiencing just moments before.

However as she watched Charles say his goodbyes to their daughter, their darling Lizzie, her emotions began to morph once again. β€œMy darling little girl…” He had whispered, he had said that the very first time he had held her, Charles may not remember it but Harriet did. She had been so worried as to what Charles would say at her birthing a girl, if he held any anger or resentment he certainly hadn’t shown it, his smile had lit up the room and the way he had tenderly held their first born had melted her heart. Now, those very words simply twisted her heart in an utterly agonising way, her breath once again felt dense within her lungs, β€œHeaven watch over you my sweet little girl.” The tears fell freshly then and all anger she had previously felt dissipated into the air with a heavy sigh, she felt remorse, she felt guilt, sorrow and tragedy, every unbearable emotions being experienced at once. Harriet had wanted to whisper her apologies, wanted to pull him into her arms and cry into his shoulder but for some unknown reason she just stared at him, the words never forming on her lips. Perhaps it was her pride which stood in the way, perhaps it was the despair which made her mute, either way she had let Charles leave with more words of what a terrible mother she was. Cecily, her darling angel, god what must she be going through right now? Harriet had left her suddenly and without explanation and the poor girl must be incredibly frightened as to what was happening, still she could not tear herself away from Lizzie. She had carried Elizabeth for nine months, for years she was one of the sole comforts in her life, her shining star when Charles had been away fighting a war she wasn’t sure he would return from and now here she lay on her deathbed and the tender age of six, what kind of cruel injustice was that?

From the door Charles spoke once more, β€œAnd you are dead wrong, for I certainly could not live without you, nor could I find a woman like you again." Harriet’s heart clenched, her eyes closing, although the salty droplets of tears sunk through and down her cheeks. He was right, she was selfish, a horrible wife and a horrible mother, she had acted out of spite and now despised herself for it, she felt she could go mad with grief if her daughter hadn’t needed her undivided attention.

Behind her George approached, his features as solemn as the ambiance in the room, he reached out placing a gentle hand upon his broken sister’s shoulder. It had been almost heartbreaking for him to watch the scene between Harriet and Charles, they were two of the strongest people he knew, they loved and cared for each other deeply but Lizzie’s ultimate death was prying a wedge between them. He could see what was going to happen, instead of comforting one another they would turn against each other, blame each other, fight and scream and each call the other every degrading name under the sun. Charles would probably turn to women and hunting, Harriet to drinking and bitterness, they would tear each other apart and not even realise it before it was too late. Although he prayed to god he was wrong.

β€œBrother, please go and get mother and father, they-they need to say their goodbyes.” George could only nod, feeling his own tears prickle at his hues as he placed a kiss upon his sister’s crown. β€œWill you be alright by yourself?” he asked, to which Harriet simply nodded. Turning towards the door, George hovered with his hand lingering upon the handle as he turned his head back towards his niece, saying his own silent goodbye before swiftly exiting the room.

ImageOnce George was gone, Harriet felt truly alone, the silence of her room was deafening and she would have given anything for it to have been filled with the sound of her child’s laughter- she would have given her own life had she the option. Lying back down, Harriet gently pulled Lizzie towards her, burying her head within her golden mane she drew a deep breath, memorising every smell, engraving it into her memory. β€œMy sweet girl, you are so loved. You were my light for so long, my only comfort and I depended on you perhaps more than a mother should do on a child.” Hattie paused as a sob escaped her lips,β€œyou are going to have to be very strong soon, but your grandfather, Francis, do you remember him? No, I don’t suppose you will, but he will look after you until I can see you again.” Pressing her lips against Lizzie’s cool forehead, she gently manoeuvred her position so she was sitting up against the headboard, her daughter cradled in her arms like she had done when she was a child. β€œMy sweet angel, I love you so, so much.”




Hours past and day turned into night, people came and went, each saying their silent goodbyes and Harriet never left Lizzie’s side. A few hours ago she had banned anyone else from entering the room, the beating of her child’s heart had become shallow and she knew the time was nigh. It was inevitable now, her darling Lizzie was going to die and there was absolutely nothing Harriet could do to stop it. She still sat in the same position and all though her back ached, her legs were numb and her arms were seizing, she still cradled Lizzie in her arms; not too long ago she too had lulled into a soft sleep and in her dreams she found the serenity she needed. They were all there, Charles, Lizzie, Cecily and herself, chasing each other around an old oak tree, smiles plastered upon each of their faces, they were a family. However at some point something, an unyielding force summoned her back towards reality, a chill crept up her spine the moment she opened her eyes.

ImageIt took a moment but eventually Harriet’s grogginess subsided and as her vision cleared she rolled her shoulders trying to relief some of the stiffness in her arms. It was at that moment Harriet looked down at her daughter, her brow knitting together in concern as her throat became dry and scratchy, β€œElizabeth” she spoke softly gently shaking the small body, hoping for some sort of reaction, anything really, be it a splutter, a croak or a groan, alas there was nothing. β€œElizabeth!” Her voice became more frantic as she shook her daughter again. β€œLizzie?” Harriet pleaded against the odd, β€œOh god, no, no, no, no” she spluttered in despair, her hand placed against placed against the stillness of her heart, hoping to feel anything, a flutter, but nothing.

Hattie’s face twisted in agony as she drew Lizzie into her chest, she could not breath, she could not believe, she could not do anything. Her heart shattered repeatedly as she shook her golden head, her tears streaming down her countenance of despair, her throat remained dry until a sharp blood curling scream echoed across the room.




Outside the mood was not pleasant, not one eye was left dry at the knowledge that the tiny Princess was close to death and how could they not be? Lizzie was a light in everyone’s life, the thought of never hearing her laughter again or finding answers to one of her many questions was nearly unbearable.

Annabelle chewed her nail anxiously, she wanted to be in there with her daughter and grandchild but Harriet had banned them all not too long ago, saying Charles was the only one allowed in, but he had not been seen for hours, β€œhow was the King when you saw him last, George?” she asked in concern for her son-in-law.

β€œDevastated. You should have heard what they called each other mother, it was unbearable.” Annabelle could only imagine, no one would have coped well in this situation, but Harriet and Charles those two would have undoubtedly made the situation worse for the other. She was about to answer when a heart stopping scream resounded from the room, her eyes widened knowing what it had meant, their little Lizzie was dead.

Setting

2 Characters Present

Character Portrait: Eleanor Lancaster Character Portrait: James Lancaster
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James chuckled softly and lifted his large, cool hands to Eleanor's warm cheeks. He smiled at her, an expression that showed such love and care for his uneasy wife. It calmed her a little to know he was there and he did not despise her for disobeying him. He pressed a gentle kiss to her lips.

β€œMy darling, I hardly doubt you could ever go insane, your mind is much too strong for that.”

Then he brought his lips to hers again. She received it less passively this time, capturing his lips and returning it with her own affection. His words in some part comforted her. Over the past week she had been so very afraid she had truly been losing her mind. She felt she was losing a grasp on reality and desperately slipping into a world of terror she could not find a way out of. Things seemed to be getting progressively worse as her state of mind weakened. But his belief in her gave her a little more strength and allowed her to push her ensuing panic back for a time.

β€œI on the other hand. I fear you will drive me stir mad!” James teased her, bringing a small smile to her pale features. It wasn't until Eleanor had her husband at her side that she realised quite how much she'd missed him these past few days. Eleanor understood how very busy he was, and for that reason she did not blame him for his absence. But being with him now only made her crave his presence more. She prayed that when they retook the throne and James was safe in his position he would have a little more time to spend with her, though she knew any dreams of such a fate were probably just a fantasy.

Eleanor watched James' resolve crack. β€œDamn you woman,” he chuckled, shaking his head. His words instantly brought relief to Eleanor and she released the breath she didn't realise she had been holding. She had got herself in such a state over being forced by him to return to battling with her demons in her confinement that the news that he was going to give in to her began to gently smooth her ragged nerves.

β€œBut you are wrong, those knaves in there cannot tell me anything about Edwin’s disappearance, it’s just speculation, speculation. We shall go and sit in my chambers then, you look like you could use as seat.”

As James led her slowly down the hall, Eleanor sighed and rolled her eyes in an attempt to dismiss her husband's concerns over her well-being. Though worry for her baby plagued Eleanor's every waking thought, she did not want her husband's terror to mirror her own. He had such a lot to worry about already that she feared further concern for her and their child may bring him even closer to his tipping point. Before him, she needed to portray the illusion that she was without fear and positive everything would go well.

They walked slowly together until they reached his chambers. Eleanor was entirely grateful that he kept a slow pace, to appear exhausted by such a short walk or to have to ask him to slow down wouldn't have helped her case in the slightest. James directed her towards the cushy seat right by the fire and, placing one hand on the small of her back and another on the arm of the chair, she gently lowered her weight into the seat. She felt the cushions give beneath her as it accommodated her body and the fire instantly began to warm her. James had been right, standing had been highly uncomfortably, and now she was sat down, she felt a little less guilty. Though she couldn't bear to be in her confinement, she was fully aware that the purpose of it was to prevent the baby from coming too soon. So many times that week, Eleanor had found herself torn between standing and moving around, trying anything to distract herself from her torturous thoughts, and wanting to sit perfectly still for her baby's safety and health. She had battled with herself, and more and more she had found her own selfish terror winning out over what she knew she should have chosen.

β€œSo, my love, tell me, what you know about Edwin?”

As he spoke, Eleanor remembered her desperate exaggeration that she might know where Edwin was, and now she had to give her husband something about his brother. She cast her mind back to their conversation a few days previously, which must have been just before he left. She'd stopped him in the halls, yet another attempt to occupy her troubled mind. She'd asked after the weather outside, as he'd just returned in and she was forbidden from going out into the fresh air. He had told her it was chilly and that he was sure snowfall was due soon. Then, out of good manners, Eleanor was sure, he had enquired after her health, to which Eleanor had given the usual answer, that she was well. However, as Edwin's eyes fell on the clock, he took on a slightly more jumpy demeanour. He had then excused himself rather hastily, telling her he was running late for something important he had to do. But when he left, Eleanor thought she had noticed a sense of hopefulness that wasn't usually evident in James' quite, introverted brother.

"When I spoke with him, he excused himself from the conversation quickly after noticing the time, telling me he was late for something important he had to do," Eleanor explained. "I don't think he simply ran away, James. I think he was going somewhere in particular, to do something he had planned. He seemed hopeful about whatever it was." She knew it wasn't much that she could offer, but hoped it gave her husband some peace of mind about his brother's safety.

By now, the fire was now warming her quite comfortably, removing all of the tension from her body. She hadn't realised how much she had needed this. For the first time in what felt like an age, Eleanor finally felt calm. She rested her head back against the chair and her eyes closed briefly as she relaxed. But, in an instant, her vision was consumed with the image of her child, tiny, his white skin tinted blue and horrifically stained with red blood. Her eyes flew open again, wide with shock, unable to mask her horror. Suddenly, responding to his mother's emotional turmoil, her baby landed a hard kick in tender flesh between her right hip bone and her pubic bone. Eleanor gasped sharply and her hand flew to the source of the pain, doubling over slightly.

Setting

2 Characters Present

Character Portrait: Charles Rayleigh Character Portrait: Harriet Rayleigh
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It seemed to take ages for Charles to finally dry Cecily's tears. He'd tried just about anything and everything to stop the heart-wrenching sound of her wails. Of course, it would not have been as troublesome if he hadn't already been grieving for one daughter or stuck under the scrutinizing, pitying gazes of his court. He didn't want their pity! He didn't need their pity! Why could no one understand that? After wandering the gardens slowly with his daughter for a while, he'd finally been approached by Harold Pierrepont, who had nothing to say except that he was sorry. In his anger, Charles simply snapped at the man, cursed him, and caused Cecily to whimper again.

Having realized that there was no benefit being around others, the monarch had simply retired to his study with Cecily, knowing no one would come in there unless he told them to. Charles clutched a book in his hands, trying to read past the first page but finding himself unable to as his mind dwelt on the thought of Lizzie and Harriet upstairs by themselves. Soon, his daughter would be gone and he wouldn't be there. Then, who would comfort his sweet Harriet? His hands tightened around the book. He certainly wouldn't. No, he could not even bear to think of the woman at this point.
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He closed the book a bit too violently, but that didn't seem to faze Cecily in the slightest. In fact, the young girl was playing with a chess piece- a knight, to be exact- and making the small white horse gallop circles around her father's chair as she added the appropriate neighing and whinnying. He gave a slight, sad smile and watched her as she lifted the white queen and mounted it on the knight's head. Now, she moved both in tandem, adding a voice for the queen in a high-pitched "queen" voice. As she finished yet another circle and moved around before Charles, he bent down and scooped her up, sitting her in his lap.

She protested, but that only gave him cause to chuckle softy and kiss the top of her head. "You know those are not really for playing like that, little one," he teased, another laugh causing him to smile. Cecily pouted up at him, as if angered by his laughing.

"It's more fun playing with them on the floor than on the table," she countered, pointing at her father's ornate chess board. Charles nodded, as if he completely and utterly understood her point, though it just managed to amuse him further.

"Yes, I am quite aware of that," he said, playing along with her. "Perhaps they are better play things than chess pieces." Gingerly, he pried the queen from her small hand and turned it over in his hand.

"She looks like Mother," the young girl remarked out of the blue. Charles tensed, wishing she hadn't brought up Harriet again.

"Yes...I guess she does lo-" he began to say, but cut himself off as the doors to his study opened and Pierrepont hurried in. "What the hell do you think you are doing in here?!" The old man breathed in and out quickly, struggling to catch his breath. Charles, though he had asked, already knew the news.

"Your Highness...your daughter...she's...she's dead..." he puffed out. The news, surprisingly, did not seem to strike much of a nerve at all. Charles simply stood up with Cecily in his arms and walked forward to hand the girl to his adviser, who looked up at the monarch in bewilderment.Image

"Watch my daughter..." Charles said weakly, his voice stuck in a monotone as if showing too much emotion or feeling would make his nightmares true. Harold could only nod as his king left the room and followed the cries that he knew came from his wife. No...no, it couldn't really be happening...

It had all felt so unreal when he first heard the news, he had believed them, but she was still alive and so it was easier to cope with the news. But now, now his daughter was truly dead and gone from this world. Oh, what would he do now? There would be a funeral, he'd have to watch them bury his sunshine, his little girl, his first born, six feet under. Waves of nausea hit him as he walked down the hallway and Charles was forced to catch himself on the wall to keep himself steady. What seemed like years later, he found himself in the doorway of his dead daughter's room, pale, faint, and feeling simply exhausted.

Harriet's cries made him want to walk over to her, to comfort her, but even when faced with the death of his daughter, he was as stubborn as an ox. In a daze, he walked slowly to the side of the bed and let himself fall to his knees, shaking his head slowly.

"S-so, it is true," he croaked, fighting back tears that threatened to pour from his eyes. "Our precious child is dead..." And then the tears fell, spilling from his eyes and falling down his cheeks as Charles buried his face in his hands, too ashamed of the weakness he was showing.

"G-God, n-no...oh God, n-no."

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2 Characters Present

Character Portrait: Annabelle Stanford Character Portrait: Mary Raleigh
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"I am a creature of grief and dust and bitter longings. There is an empty place within me where my heart was once"


Upon the death of Sir Francis Rayleigh, his estate of Rigby Hall was passed down to his wife Lady Mary Raleigh, the Duchess of Vale. Though Rigby Hall was not used so much as the Rayleigh's now dwelt in Whinfell Palace, though to Mary, Rigby Hall would be her home, having lived and dwelt there since first stepping through the large doors with her dear Francis. Contained within Rigby Hall were many luxuries as well as halls of grandeur, but also contained within Rigby Hall were the many many memories that had built up year after year, memories that Mary held onto, sweet memories that she wished she could turn the clock back to. Nowadays, it seemed the days lasted so much longer...

"Milady! Milady! Urgent news!", bellowed one of the family's butlers as he rushed up the stairway. Hearing the raised voices, Mary stood up from her position at the window and entered the hallway as the butler re-literated, "We have urgent news from the capital". Mary leaned her head back as her fragile frame straightened, "The news may be urgent, but it is not an excuse to bring discord to Rigby Hall, nor allow the honor of serving in Rigby Hall to be your playground", she silently scoulded as the butler bowed, "I am sorry milady". Forgiving him with a nod, she then asked, "What news do you bring?", looking upon his face that clearly shown the distress on his face, causing her tone to raise, "I pray do tell". The butler closed his eyes before straightening his back in the presence of Lady Raleigh, "The news from the capital is in regards to your grand-daughter milady, the young Lady Elizabeth Rayleigh is gravely ill, as of now the people are paying their respects and saying their goodbyes". Upon hearing the report, she then took a moment of silence before turning to the butler, "Have my carriage prepared immediately, with the fastest horses in the stable, I must be there".

As she sat in her carriage, the report was replayed in her head over and over again, "the young Lady Elizabeth Rayleigh is gravely ill....saying their goodbyes". This could not be, she was too young, too young. "Lady Raleigh, I apologise for the bumpy ride, would you like me to slow down?", called the driver as Mary replied, "You need not be concerned about me. Just ensure that I reach Briar within sufficient time" as she put her hands together and rested them on her legs. Despite the rocking, Mary remained still as the carriage raced to Briar, giving Mary time to close her eyes and pray for the young Elizabeth. Whatever happens, she was still a Raleigh.

Not only was she praying for young Elizabeth, but also for her son who was no doubt in pain right now. Though Mary was not one to show it, she too felt sorrowful towards the approaching death of her son's eldest daughter. Elizabeth had brought so much happiness in her son's life that if she had the power to keep her alive, she would do so. Alas she had no such powers, for if she did have the power to prevent death, if she had the power to turn back time, then she would try and keep Francis alive. Francis was everything to her, but now that Francis was gone, she not only had to fulfill her duty as mother but also the duty as father to keep the family together.

Upon arriving outside Whinfell Palace, she immediately left her carriage and entered the palace. Mary wore nothing extravagant, wearing a simple dark green robe which was of slim fitting with a lighter green neck scarf to keep her neck warm, her auburn hair which is a trait of the 'Knee' family, was partly tied into a bun so her hair was short except for one ponytail. With Elizabeth's room round the corner, Mary stopped so she had time to examine herself and remove any creases that she could see on her person. Once she was happy, she then turned the corner, only to see Annabelle and George Stanford outside her room. Interesting.

As far as her relations with the Stanford's go, she could hardly trust them with how divided their family is. Family was important afterall, which is why Mary felt strongly about keeping her family together. As she closed the gap between herself and Lady Stanford, it probably made a person wonder if she was the King's mother at all with the attire she chooses to wear. Regardless, now was not the time to dwell on things but be there for her family, even if her family now included the Stanford's. She felt an urge to ask them why they were cluttering the palace halls, but she had a feeling that there must be a reason as Lady Stanford no doubt wished to be with her daughter at this time, just as she wished to be with her son.

"Lady Stanford", she addressed her with a nod, "I am not too late am I?", such being a concern on her mind as an explanation for her to be outside, "or is there a particular reason why you are out here?". Mary had grown up with the thesis that knowledge is power, so if she did not speak what was on her mind, it was speaking with the intention to gain facts, such was the reason why she asked.

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Character Portrait: Eleanor Lancaster Character Portrait: James Lancaster
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James observed his wife, his emerald eyes focussing on her from over his chalice; she really was an exquisite woman, especially by the dim light of the burning fire. Her hair was a shade of gold he had never seen before laying eyes on the Stanford sisters, the honey tones were not to dissimilar from the sun’s rays on a summers day nor the shimmering shine of freshly spun silk and beside the fire this was only accentuating. Eleanor’s visage truly mimicked that of an angel and as clichΓ© as it sounded that was truly how James felt about his wife, her porcelain skin almost the shade of freshly fallen snow and her eyes the same shade as the metallic palate of steel, truly and undoubtedly unique. Ever so was her beauty made all real by the swell of her stomach, protruding attractively beneath her dress, there had been many occasions in their marriage when James had been truly struck dumb by Eleanor’s beauty, now was one of those times.

ImageThere was something about seeing Eleanor with child that made James’ heart leap, the thought that their child grew swiftly within brought immense happiness and joy. To know that their futures would begin with this child was comforting and also frightening, although his worries were still present, they would be until the babe was safe in his arms and even then James doubted he would ever be able to stop his worry.

As Eleanor began to speak about Edwin, his brow knitted together at her words, β€œ I don't think he simply ran away, James. I think he was going somewhere in particular, to do something he had planned. He seemed hopeful about whatever it was.” Her suspicions had furthered his confusion upon the situation, was it true, had Edwin a plan behind his disappearance? James had never considered the possibility himself, it half seemed ludicrous. What could he possibly have to do in Seabel? Why would he risk his life and that of his family, didn’t he know what damage he could cause by simply stepping foot within the country? So many questions raced through his mind as he slowly processed the information, her words were compelling to say the least and he was not one to doubt his wife’s words.

β€œCould it be true?” James murmured sinking back into his chair, his visage spared from any true emotion save for confusion as his mind still raked for a plausible explanation, still none came to the forefront of his mind. His hand came to rest upon his pointed chin, rubbing the stubble flesh as if it would help him locate his brother just that little faster. In truth James was more worried for Edwin than anything else, granted should he find out that is brother had left willingly for Seabel he would probably see it as some betrayal, but ultimately just the knowledge that he was safe would have been sufficient.

Even with his gaze directed towards the dancing flames of the fire, Eleanor’s sudden and sharp movements had not gone unnoticed. Her gasp had originally drawn his attention, the sudden intake of breath echoing through the room; his own green orbs had widened at Eleanor’s actions, they were unnerving and worrisome for the exiled King and the moment she doubled over his own heart stopped. James was by her side within a second, falling heavily to knee’s ignoring the pain which caused through his bones, β€œmy love, what is it? Is it the child?” He asked in a brisk tone, almost fearsome. James’ hand gently entwined with his wife’s, his slightly calloused thumb from years of sword play gently running across her knuckles. β€œShould I send for the physician?”

Setting

5 Characters Present

Character Portrait: Charles Rayleigh Character Portrait: Harriet Rayleigh Character Portrait: Eleanor Lancaster Character Portrait: Annabelle Stanford Character Portrait: Mary Raleigh
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Harriet was not sure how long had passed since she had realised that her daughter no longer drew breath, she did not care in honesty, she cared about very little at this moment in time, in fact she was very much numb from the pain. Her agony was still ever so present, although her loud sobs had subsided into a steady stream of silent tears cascading down her flushed cheeks, her throat was too hoarse and sore to make any real sounds. In her arms lay her daughter, so beautiful and peaceful that it almost looked as if she were merely asleep and a part of Harriet wanted to believe it for it could have easily been mistaken, however she knew better, she knew her daughter was dead.

Every time she thought about the word it sounded bitter and almost left a foul taste within her mouth, it was heavy and dense and made her want to retch. It couldn’t be that her daughter was dead. Elizabeth had always been a healthy child, so full of life and exuberant, it could not be the same child which lay in her arms, not this child with such sullen and cold skin, no this could not be her little Lizzie. But it was, her features were still the same even in death, her hair still as golden as the sun, she was still Harriet’s precious little girl even in death. Moving her position slightly, Harriet pressed the girls head towards her chest, her hand gently entwining within her locks to keep her close. As she did she rested her own head upon Lizzie’s, trying to remember everything about her scent that she could whilst placing gentle kisses upon her locks.

β€œOne more push, my lady, just one more!” The cries of the midwife echoed around the room, her voice just loud enough to be heard above the whimpering of Harriet. Sinking back into her mother’s embrace, the woman merely shook her head, she was tired, exhausted in fact and the agony was just too much to bear, her mother had warned her about the pains of childbirth and Harriet thought she had done enough to prepare herself mentally for the pain. It hadn’t been long into her labour that she realised nothing could have prepared her for what she was about to face.

She shook her head with the strength which she could muster as Eleanor dabbed a cool cloth against her brow, β€œI can’t-”she whimpered behind her streaming tears, β€œI can’t do anymore.” Harriet was certain that all her strength had relinquished, her body racked with pain as the babe tore her apart.

β€œYes you can Harriet, you are strong, you can do this” Annabelle spoke adamantly, she was not about to let her daughter give up, Harriet would not be one of those women, those too weak to survive this trial. She herself had birthed six babes, four had only survived infancy but she had delivered six babes nonetheless and her mother before her had birthed ten! Marcus and Stanford women were naturals when it came to childbirth and Harriet had both blood causing through her veins, she was a fighter, she would see this through.

Beside her Eleanor lightly dropped to her knees and took her sisters hand within her own, pressing her lips against the gentle flesh, β€œJust one more push Hattie, then you and Charles can have your child.” She encouraged with a smile. Harriet stared at her for a moment, her brow glistening with droplets of sweat, her tear soaked cheeks glistening against the candle light. Eleanor’s words had not been strong nor defiant, like her mother’s had been, instead they relayed the innocence of her tender seventeen years, but they had given her the motivation she had needed.

With a faltering smile Harriet did what she could to squeeze her sister’s hands before turning back to the midwife with a small nod. Her teeth grinded together as another wave of pain shot through her body, her cries didn’t remain silent for long for soon a loud scream ripped from her throat, her eyes forcibly shutting as she gave her finally push. It must have lasted only seconds, although it dragged on for Harriet like hours, but shortly a high pitched wail sounded around the room and Harriet collapsed back against her mother.

β€œIt’s a girl” the midwife beamed joyously as she wrapped the tiny babe in a blanket, wiping the blood from her body. Although she knew her husband had wanted a boy, Harriet could not fathom the will to care, the child was born with breath as breath still remained in her body and that’s all she could have hoped from the birth. β€œPass her to me Ellie.”

Following her sisters instruction, Eleanor rose to her feet and moved to the foot of the bed, gently taking the crying babe from the midwifes arms, β€œoh Hattie she is beautiful.” Eleanor smiled broadly as she looked up from the child towards her mother and placed her down into Harriet’s waiting arms.

Her sister was right, the child was beautiful, perfect even and the product of the love she shared with her husband, β€œshe is…she looks like Charles.” Harriet commented with a smile as the babe began to relax within her arms, the high pitched wailing lessening as the seconds past until the child looked up at her through ocean blue eyes that significantly matched her fathers. β€œDo you think he will be disappointed that she is not a boy?”

Annabelle gazed down upon her granddaughter with a tearful gaze, what a wonderful moment she had just witnessed, she felt blessed to have experienced the birth of her first grandchild. β€œOf course not, my love, boys will come and even if he is it wouldn’t be for long after he looks into those eyes” she spoke confidently before placing a kiss to her daughters head.


β€œS-so, it is true…Our precious child is dead.” Harriet’s eyes opened suddenly at the sound of Charles’ solemn voice- she hadn’t even heard him enter the room. Through her glazed hues, she watched him as he lowered his head into his hands and pleaded to god.

Harriet looked up from her child for a split second as the door opened, her smile only widened as she saw Charles enter the room before looking back down at her daughter, she simply could not tear her gaze away from more than a moment, β€œit’s a girl” she announced gently as he slowly approached the bed.

β€œAye, your mother told us” Charles smiled warmly, his eyes transfixed upon the small bundle in his wife’s arms. Slowly he neared the bed, his heart quickening with every beat, it was a moment that he had been waiting for, for months, something he had anticipated eagerly and feared at the same time. β€œShe has your eyes,” Harriet spoke quietly, not wanting to scare her new born.

Charles’ own eyes widened slightly at her statement, β€œshe does?” he repeated. Harriet nodded, glancing back up towards her husband, β€œwould you like to hold her?” she asked to which Charles could only nod. In a swift movement he gingerly perched himself beside Harriet on the bed, careful in case his movements caused her more pain. β€œMake sure you support her head” Harriet instructed as she tactfully placed the babe within her husbands arms. Charles took the baby slowly, as if afraid he'd harm the small child by simply taking her from her mother's arms. Had he even held a child this small before? Nervously, he gulped and let out a soft little laugh, coupled with a worried expression. That was his child...his flesh and blood. Slowly, Charles shook his head as he placed his hand behind the girl's head, with was much smaller than his hand. Yes, he most certainly would have preferred a boy. The boy would have ensured the continuation of his family's blood line. On the other hand, though, he found it impossible to be upset in the presence of his wife, his daughter, and the nurses around them.

The smile on his lips seemed to stretch ear from ear as he looked down at his daughter. She was perfect. She was absolutely perfect and he swore that there was absolutely nothing he wanted to change in that moment. Supporting her in his slightly bent arm, Charles rubbed a thumb slowly against her cheek which caused the young girl to shift slightly and let out a gentle protest at the calloused flesh. It didn't faze him, though, that she didn't like it. Instead, he hesitantly leaned down and pressed his lips to her smooth, pale forehead as his smile broadened.


"Oh, my darling little girl," he whispered just an inch or so above her face but in a hushed whisper, as he feared speaking loudly would cause this moment to end abruptly. "My beautiful, darling little girl..." He turned to Harriet, his smile still broad and excited. "What shall we call her, love?"


Harriet could only smile at the scene before her, for a little while she had been worried that her husband would have been disappointed at her for the child being a girl, but now she could see from the joy in his features, that her worries had been unnecessary, completely unnecessary. Sinking back into the cushions, her smile only broadened, "I think she suits Elizabeth, what about you darling?"


Charles, for a while, was only able to nod slowly with the same smile on his face. "Elizabeth?" he repeated, trying the name out himself. "Elizabeth." Again, he said it as if to confirm the name. "Yes, Elizabeth sounds wonderful..." He probably couldn't have cared what they named her in that moment. Charles was so jovial at that point, he'd almost tuned out everything. He was a father! God, he still could not believe it, despite the fact that he held actual proof. Finally, he seemed to realize his wife might want to hold the child again and so he turned to hand Elizabeth over to her, planting a kiss gingerly against her lips as he did so. "She's beautiful, Hattie...absolutely gorgeous." Years ago, before he'd married, he would have scoffed at the idea of settling down or having a child, but now he couldn't imagine life without a child.


As Harriet took their Elizabeth back in her arms she continued to beam, nobody could have prepared her for this day, the agonising pain had been unbearable and frightening, but then the elation that followed had caused her to forget all that she experienced and now all she was filled with was unending happiness. β€œShe is beautiful…she’s perfect”



Charles sobs caused a mixture of emotions within Harriet, anger was present; her teeth gritted, she just could not stand the sound of his cries, it was only making her own grief worse. It was a selfish thought, that much she knew but it she could not sit here and listen to his tears, not when he had abandoned her when she had needed him the most. Charles had left her and their dying daughter, he had forced her to sit there alone, without comfort as Lizzie passed on in her arms and that was something she would never forgive him for what he had done, just as she would never forgive herself for what she had done.

Yet she also felt sympathy for her husband and that was perhaps the strongest emotion, asides her anguish, that she was feeling. It took the remainder of Harriet’s strength to no reach out to Charles, pull him into her arms, but he had hurt her in ways that she wasn’t sure she could ever forgive him and that thought alone was enough to stump her affection.

ImageSwallowing the lump in her throat, Harriet gently laid Lizzie back down onto the bed; her own legs ached from stiffness as she rose to them before pulling the blankets up to her child chin, straightening any creases as she did so. Resting a hand on her swollen stomach, Harriet lent forward, placing a last kiss upon Lizzie’s brow, pulling back she chocked upon her tears once again, her heart smashing into pieces at the sight before her.[color= #AEC8CC] β€œI will always love you, Lizzie, always.”[/color] she whispered lightly before standing tall once again, her gaze coming to settle on her husband.

[color= #AEC8CC] β€œI needed you, but you never came back and for that I don’t think I can ever forgive you.”[/color] Harriet’s voice cracked under the strain of the crippling emotions, she did not give him time to respond or criticise her further, turning sharply on her heel, she left the room, leaving Charles alone with his grief just as he had done to her.





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Not to Annabelle’s surprise, Charles had entered the room on his child without paying those waiting outside any acknowledgment and she couldn’t blame him, his mind had been solely focussed on Lizzie to pay anyone else any mind. Annabelle herself had been in her own state of anguish, quite naively she had never thought she would lose a grandchild, not one who had lived past the dangers of infancy, but children died daily around the kingdom and being the child of a King and Queen did not save you from disease. It was almost killing her being parted from Harriet at this time, but she stayed put and waited until she was beckoned, the truth was, she was almost frightened to step foot into that room, she did not know if she could handle the sight of their little Lizzie without life. However should Harriet will her presence she would easily set aside her fears and enter the room.

Walking over to George she ran her hands up and down his arms, offering a small but watery smile, it was obvious that he was suffering also, there was sorrow in his glassy hues that matched most people’s that evening and so she did what she could to comfort him. β€œLady Stanford…I am not too late am I?

The familiar voice of Mary Rayleigh echoed down the corridor and on any other day Annabelle would have grimaced at the tone. Mary was not a woman she got along with particularly well, it was evident that the Duchess of Vale, the King’s mother did not care to greatly for the Stanford’s. The lack of royal blood in their heritage had branded them, in her eyes anyway, commoners from the beginning and since Eleanor and Jonathan’s deflection to the Lancastrian forces, Mary’s resentment towards them had only worsened. Still, today of all days was not one to dwell on such things.

β€œI am afraid so Lady Rayleigh, It would seem our granddaughter has just passed.” Annabelle spoke gently, emotion lacing every word and syllable, it was almost impossible to keep her tears from falling after speaking the words aloud and she knew from a fact that Mary would not take to kindly to tears in public, she had always been a stoic sorts like that, but again, at this moment she could not care less what the woman thought of her.

Suddenly the click of the door caught her attention and turning sharply, Annabelle stared at the wooden mount waiting to see who was to appear. Her heart shattered when she saw her daughter emerge, her eyes reddened by hours of constant tears, her skin pale from shock, her movements small from weakness, β€œoh my love.” Rushing towards Harriet, she wrapped her arms around her daughter trying to offer what comfort she could.

Harriet melted into her mother’s embrace, taking what comfort she could, looking up she spotted George and reached out to embrace him also. Their union was short as Harriet’s eyes fell upon her, Charles’ mother, the ever emotionless Mary Rayleigh, she would have rather been facing the entire Lancastrian army naked at this moment, than having locked eyes with her. Although, to her credit she kept her composure and greeted the woman with a small nod, β€œCharles will need you,” she spoke quickly and curtly before turning away from the woman, she could not bear to look at another Rayleigh at this moment, hell, she doubted she could ever look at another Rayleigh again.

As Harriet turned and began the walk back to her own chambers, Annabelle offered the Duchess a quick nod before hurrying after her daughter, George close behind her. It was a little comfort to know that Mary was in Briar now, at least she would not have to worry about Charles as much knowing that his own mother was here to comfort him, then again she wasn’t entirely sure just how much comfort the woman would be to the grieving King.

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Character Portrait: Eleanor Lancaster Character Portrait: James Lancaster
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Eleanor took a few, rapid, shaky breaths as the pain in her side began to dissipate, trying to regain her composure. She was losing her mind. She was truly losing her grip on reality. She couldn't even close her eyes now, not even what should be the comforting company of the man she loved most in the world. Her fear and paranoia was consuming her and winning, despite her best efforts to hold herself together. Other than James and her brother, there was no one here in the North she truly trusted, and she could tell neither of them about her fears. Here, she wasn't adored by the court or watched fondly by those who'd seen her grow up as she had been at home. Here she was looked upon with cold, judging eyes. If her mother was here, or even Harriet, she could tell them of her terrors, and she may find some solace in that. But she couldn't. And, she truly thought if she lost this child it may be the end of her.

"My love, what is it? Is it the child?” Eleanor heard her husband say, his demanding voice suddenly close to her. She felt his hand take her trembling one. β€œShould I send for the physician?”

"No, no. I'm fine," she reassured him softly, lifting her head and straightening her body a little. "He's just kicking," Eleanor promised, excluding exactly what it was that had caused her child's unease. Her husband did not need that worry. Not with his brother missing, his sister being sent away to the Emerald Isles and the impending war with the Rayleigh's all weighing on his mind. The last thing he needed was to worry about his wife's mental state and the health of his child. All she had to do was was remain, to all appearances, perfectly well for a few more weeks and deliver a perfect baby boy. As a wife, she should be able to do at least that.

"Feel how strong he is," Eleanor's voice was a wisp of breath, for fear that if she put any more force behind it, it may crack and show her true terror. She lifted the hand that was intertwined with her own to a spot just above the original source of her pain, where the babe's foot had moved to and was now nudging her lightly. Eleanor placed James' hand over where the child was moving, holding it there for a few seconds of silence, the only sound being that of their own breaths. She then lifted her head to meet James' eye, almost as though she was searching for his approval.

Eleanor then leant in and placed her lips against his, kissing him sweetly. "I'm fine," she reassured once more, pulling back, a tight smile fixed on her features. "He's fine. He's...perfect," Eleanor promised, as though if she repeated her version of the truth enough times it may just come to pass.

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3 Characters Present

Character Portrait: Charles Rayleigh Character Portrait: Harriet Rayleigh Character Portrait: Mary Raleigh
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No such memories came back to Charles like they did his wife. Instead of thinking of the precious first moments he'd spent with his newborn daughter, he could only think of the harsh, cruel reality he was facing. She was gone. His precious, darling, firstborn child was gone. ImageOh, why had he ever wanted a son?! Was this is curse for wishing Lizzie had been born a boy? It was certainly a harsh punishment, if that were the case, but what else did he expect, in all reality. It was his fault, his fault for being selfish, for being ungrateful, for being a murderer.

His sobs increased both in volume and in tears as he realized that perhaps he really was the reason for their daughter's death. After all, why else would such a benevolent god kill his precious daughter? Finally, he allowed himself to look up slowly at both his wife and his dead child, fighting back another wave of sobs. Why had they begun to fight? He just wanted his wife back, damn it. But, even though he knew she was too proud of a woman to take him back sobbing like a child, he crawled forward slowly on the floor toward her as she covered their child with the bed sheets.

"H-Hattie," he sobbed out, his voice choked apart by his crying. "L-love, please...c-come to me...I-I need you. I can not grieve myself, n-nor can you." He knew he most likely looked pitiful and weak and stupid before her, as he was nothing more than a pile of tears and grief before her. And, of course, Harriet was as reluctant as always to give in to his pleading.

"I needed you, but you ever came back and for that, I don't think I can ever forgive you." Her voice was cracking, he could tell, and yet she hurried from the room without betraying a single emotion upon her countenance. He let out a cry of anguish, but bit his lip to keep it from being too loud.

"Harriet, please!" he yelled after her, his voice cracking also. "Come back, Harriet, please! I am sorry, I am ever so sorry." It took him a while to realize she was not returning and, instead of crying more, he suddenly got to his feet and turned toward the door.
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"Damn you, you vile woman!" he snarled, fists clenched tightly in anger. "You bitch, get back here! Come back here, woman!" He wanted to move forward, to chase after her, but he didn't know what he would do if he caught up to her. Instead, he settled upon slamming his fist into the wall, hoping it would help him cope. It didn't, of course, but it simply caused him to feel pain and rage, along with his earlier grief. And now, he was utterly alone...and he didn't like it at all. Shaking with his mixture of anger and anguish, Charles walked slowly to the edge of his daughter's death bed and sat on the edge, looking down at her with red eyes and a solemn expression.

"Oh, my sweet little girl..." he mumbled, slowly reaching to run his hand through her golden locks. The cold, clamminess of her skin caused him to cry out and tears formed in his eyes. "What are we going to do without you, little one?" He sighed and leaned down so that he could press his lips once more on her head. "You need to watch over us now, Lizzie...you a-and Father...you will watch over us, won't you?" He gave a weak attempt at a smile, but it soon crumbled to bits as he looked once more at her still, expressionless visage. "You had such a bright future ahead of you, darling...God, I would have died in your place if I could have."Image
The sound of the door to the room opened startled him and he sat up quickly, praying it was Harriet and she'd returned to him. Although it turned out to be his mother, he certainly wasn't upset by that. In fact, perhaps he was more thankful it had been Mary Rayleigh and not Harriet, for his mother would most certainly comfort him, whereas Harriet was likely still seething and ignoring him.

"Mother..." he whispered, standing up quickly and brushing the tears from his eyes hurriedly, as if trying to create the impression that he hadn't just been sobbing. He looked as if he wanted to say more to her but, instead, the young king simply rushed forward and hugged his mother tightly. Though he was almost an entire foot taller than her, Charles leaned down against her and sobbed wholeheartedly into her shoulder, his entire frame wracked with sob after sob. "O-oh Mother, Lizzie's d-dead...Harriet hates me...God, t-the entire world has fallen to b-bits." He could have stayed in her embrace for ages, letting his mother soothe him as she did when he was a young, sickly child. Instead, though, he finally forced himself away after a few minutes. He still had to act like he had some control over the situation, despite how much he just wanted to curl up away from the world. "A-are you here because of L-Lizzie...?"

Setting

4 Characters Present

Character Portrait: Charles Rayleigh Character Portrait: Harriet Rayleigh Character Portrait: Annabelle Stanford Character Portrait: Mary Raleigh
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"I am a creature of grief and dust and bitter longings. There is an empty place within me where my heart was once"


It was the role of an anchor to hold the ship, the role of a pillar to hold up the roof and the role of Mary Rayleigh to hold up her family, especially when there was a storm. Some storms were mild, some storms were bearable but there were storms that were unbearable and even dangerous, in the presence of all of these, there was a force to be reckoned with when these storms engaged into battle. To be a sufficient force to withstand such storms, such a force must be grounded deep into the foundation or such a force would be weak. It is therefore imperative that such a force is strong, sharp and well grounded, in order to carry out their role. Without an anchor the ship would be lost to the storm, without a pillar the rooftop would fall and the house would come crashing down. Mary had great confidence in her son's abilities but she would remain a strong, sharp and well grounded support in order to aid him.

Sometimes being sharp had the consequence of being sharp-tongued, which had the consequence of not being liked so much, but such did not matter as much as defending her family, for she would do whatever it took. Hearing Lady Stanford's response and the tears that followed, only caused Mary to close her eyes so she would not have to witness the tears that fell, but at the same time she did so in disappointment that she wasn't able to arrive sooner but it could not be helped, so she would simply accept the facts and carry on, just as she had with Francis as she knew that he would not want her to grieve but to carry on. Thinking of such had changed her life from that time on, grieving was more an impossibility than reluctance, but she would remain strong in these times.

The young Elizabeth was such a gentle soul, so innocent, so young, yet, recalling the words of Lady Stanford before her watery display, "it would seem our granddaughter has just passed". There was a reason of course where she did not take kindly to tears in public, first and foremost it tested her when others shed tears yet she would not, secondly tears were a sign of weakness which could not be allowed for one in the role she held, yet it did not mean that she felt nothing even if others may get such an impression as she did feel remorseful for the death of her dear granddaughter, but she would not allow her emotions to get the better of her, she would not and could not, and certainly should not.

Just as she had back in Rigby Hall, she remained silent, her head bowed to be respectful, remaining strong but poised in the testing waves that had come crashing down in the heart of Seabel and in the hearts of those within for such a young life to be taken from them. Her eyes looked up as Harriet came from Lizzie's room and straight into the arms of her mother. It was clear by her face when Harriet's eyes locked with her own of how her emotions had gotten the best of her, but such was the love of a mother. However, from what Mary had gathered as she had stood outside with Lady Stanford and her youngest son, was that her son and Harriet wished for time alone which Mary had hoped was helping them both stand strong, but instead it seemed it was failure with the fact Harriet had came alone and with the words that came out of Harriet's mouth, "Charles will need you", before turning away and leaving, followed by her mother and brother.

What had that....what had she done now? seeing that she had left Charles alone, so she took no time to waste to open the doors and enter Lizzie's room, seeing her son on Lizzie's bed. Mary could remember the times that she had sat on Charles' bed to comfort him, worried about how sick and weak he was. Charles was her world, her first born, so she could understand the pain that Charles and Harriet would be in to lose their first born, even if she did not show it, but she would help them through it. Charles moreso than Harriet of course, seeing that Harriet had appeared to let him grieve alone, as Charles came towards her and hugged her, Mary responding with a hug of her own to comfort him.

"O-oh Mother, Lizzie's d-dead....Harriet hates me...God, t-the entire world has fallen to b-bits", Charles sobbed, before it appeared that some of her strength had passed onto him as he pulled back and asked, "A-are you here because of L-Lizzie...?". "For Lizzie...and for you", Mary responded to him confidently as she took the opportunity to see Lizzie, holding her hand as she sat on her bed, reminding her of the times she was at Charles' side, reminding her of how she used to be. Back in those days she was worried for her son with how ill he looked, feeling that something was terribly wrong, but in the end Charles had grown and now had become a strong man like his father. Unfortunately for Charles and Harriet, their first-born had not been so lucky, the hand she now held should of grown into a strong woman, but alas such was not to be.

There was the option to speak of Lizzie, but right now her son needed her before he could face the facts as she did upon Francis' death. Lizzie had brought much joy and happiness to Charles just as Charles had brought much joy and happiness to her, so she could only imagine the pain they were going through, "Life certainly has a way of rising you up before things come crashing down, but you must be strong, now more than ever", not really words of comfort but were words of strength in her opinion as such was how her life had been. Following her statement, she released Lizzie's hand and stood up, "If there are pieces that have fallen, then they must be picked up and treasured, held together", such that caused her to be distrustful of the Stanfords' since their family had been divided yet there had been no attempt for the family to be rebound together.

However, Mary could not forget that it was Francis' arrangement for Charles to be wed with Harriet, so though she was skeptical then and skeptical now, she felt that she should try her best to accept the situation for Francis' sake. "Harriet is....facing...challenges..of her own right now. These are hard times, but you must endure", holding his arm for her strength to flow through him once more, "If anyone can hold strong in the face of adversity, it is a Rayleigh!", so if Harriet was a true Rayleigh then she would stand by Charles side. There was still the issue of providing a male heir but only time will tell and now was not the time to dwell on such things as she comforted her son.

Mary herself had her testing period when Francis was killed and departed from this world. Here in Seabel, men and women weeped for the loss of the King's eldest daughter, but when Francis died, there were those that rejoiced which made the death even more painful. Instead of giving into grief, she gave into her anger since she was too scarred to let out a single tear, before she fell on her knees and prayed for strength to see her through for she wholeheartedly needed it. It was why she told Charles that if pieces were fallen then they must be held together, for that is what she too had done, for without the head of the family, it was like a trunk of a tree, remove the tree and the branches fall and can no longer stand, requiring them to be picked up and held together, such that Mary had done.

As for Harriet, she didn't exactly meet eye to eye with her, but she had remained at her daughters' side, even if it meant casting away the other lost branch, but such was a trial. When Charles was in his sick-like state, Mary would be around him more than her other children. However, when Francis was executed, the same shock that had ran through Francis when the axe made contact with his skin, was the same shock that had ran through Mary to drain her of what she once was, before she came to the understanding that now Francis was gone, her children needed her now more than ever and she would fulfill that role to a tee.

There was more that Mary could say to her son, but she felt that the essence of what she wished to convey to him was accomplished. There was no need to remind him of the past when he had been by her and had agreed to rise against the Lancaster's. A Rayleigh was worth thousands of Lancaster's, but she believed that her son would overcome this and had the strength to overcome this, just as he had the strength to pull away from her. The question was, would Harriet succeed? but first, it was time to say farewell to Lizzie as she looked up to her son, "You warriors stand tall on the battlefield, but it is time to go to a different plane, to be..a prayer warrior, for on our knees, we are stronger than trees, which is the only chance I get at being taller than you", trying her hand at amusement with a thin smile, before she adjusted herself so that she was by Charles' side and then offering her hand, "Will you join me?", she then asked so Charles can join her, preparing herself to pray for her grand-daughter whose smile will be smiling down on them up above, alone with her dear Francis and that even after his death, she was still living upto her duty as a dutiful wife....

Setting

4 Characters Present

Character Portrait: Charles Rayleigh Character Portrait: Harriet Rayleigh Character Portrait: Eleanor Lancaster Character Portrait: Annabelle Stanford
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Charles,

This is not a letter I ever thought I would have to write; the country we reign over has seen many battles in its history and usually these battles are fought with husband and wife on the same side, however now I see we are fighting our own war, as opponents. It is something that was once unfathomable, for my love for you burns with ferocity in my chest, my love for you and our children gave me strength and hope, it gave me courage to face any foe; I had not known love before I married you.

Yet my heart aches, for my love has not vanished, it is still ever present and every day I do not speak to you or see you tares me to pieces, but I am also filled with rage. I am angered by you, but I am more angered at myself, at my own selfish acts upon Elizabeth’s death, partly because I blame myself and honestly hating you made it easier for me to bear. I wanted you to feel my pain, to feel my anguish as I thought you didn’t, or wouldn’t, understand; a mother’s love is eternal and unconditional, I did not think that a father’s was the same. I punished you when I should have grieved with you and it’s only now, weeks later that I see my mistake and I am sorry that I could not swallow my pride or stubbornness and come to you, for I truly wanted nothing more than to feel your arms around me.

It is because of this that I have decided to take my leave to Pendlebury with mother and Cecily. I know you will take this letter as a slight to you and it will probably only intensify your hatred towards me, but please believe me when I say it is not out of spite that I am doing this, I fear the only way we can get back what we once had is by absence. But I shall not keep Cecily from you, she is currently the only light in both our lives, so when you wish it I am happy to send Cecily back to Briar under my brother’s protection and under an armed guard, but I will remain in Pendlebury with mother until the time is right for me to return. I hope it will be before our child is born, however at this current time I am making preparation to birth the child at my childhood home, just in case.

In the mean time, I shall make sure Cecily writes to you often and read her any replies you may send; I will make sure she knows that you love her. Please know that I do still love you, but we are both broken and beaten and we need time for our wounds to heal.

Always,

Harriet.


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ImageAs Harriet signed her name, she gently set the quill down beside the parchment and let her steel gaze travel over her delicate handwriting; a part of her wanted to throw the letter to the fire at the softness and benevolence of her words, she wanted to still hate Charles, truly she did, but honestly her hatred had turned into agony weeks ago, she was just too damned stubborn to admit it. At least in a letter she would save herself the despair of facing him, for she knew if she told him she were leaving just inches apart from one another, she would crumble, but they needed this time apart, it would only strengthen their love in the long run, or so Harriet believed. Many others disagreed; her mother was one of them. Annabelle had tried furiously to try and get her eldest daughter to reconcile with her husband, but it would seem that Harriet had been blinded by her grief over Lizzie’s untimely death and even now, close to four weeks later, Harriet still had not relented and gone to her husband.

As expected the Queen’s argument to this had been a stubborn one, she believed that if Charles truly wanted her or needed her, then he would come to her and secretly she wished he had done. Despite her refusal to see him and ordering her maids not to even mention him trying to visit her, Harriet’s heart had been trapped in whimsical romantic notions, he was the King of Seabel and nothing could stop Charles from seeing his wife, nothing had done so in the past and hence why she remained stoic in her decision, if Charles had truly wanted her, he would have come to her despite her obstacles.

β€œYour Grace, the carriage is all prepared.” Bridgette Poole, her chief lady-in-waiting announced upon entering the room. Harriet offered a curt nod and dismissed the woman with a swift wave of her hand, once she had folded that letter before her, she slipped it into an envelope and quickly scrawled Charles’ name across the face. Once she was done, Harriet set the quill back down and rose from her chair, the action made a little less graceful by her stomach, which now clearly showed the Queen’s condition beneath the fabrics of her black gown. Placing one hand upon her swollen stomach, Harriet’s feet carried across the floor of her bedchambers, not looking back as she left her rooms, she had spent the best part of three weeks as a self processed prisoner of her room and she would be thankful for the change of scenery.

The past weeks had been near enough hell, her world had come crashing down around and she was completely powerless to stop it, her heart had broken, no, shattered, Harriet’s children were her world, they were the air she breathed and without them caused agony to serge through her. Elizabeth’s death had caused a void within her which could never be filled, not truly anyway, she was just lucky to still have Cecily and this unborn child to keep her head above water; otherwise she would drowned by now.

As she walked down the corridor towards the courtyard, her eyes caught the rounded shape of Harold Pierrepont wading in front of her, seeing Harold caused a slight stir of apprehension at her plans to leave. Was it wise for her to leave Charles with both his mother and the fat diplomat, would they conspire against her whilst she was away? The truth was, she wasn’t exactly sure, after all it was no secret that they didn’t particularly like her as Queen, nor having the Stanford’s in power, but she would take her chances. β€œPierrepont” she called out, stopping the man in his tracks. β€œYour grace, how can I be of service?” Outstretching her hand, Harriet handed him the letter, [color=A4A4A4]β€œPlease make sure that Charles receives this, it is very important.”[/color] She watched as Harold gave her a curt nod and shoved the letter into his pocket, usually it would have angered her but today she simply walked away.

Upon reaching the courtyard, Cecily bounded towards her and despite her stomach Harriet bent down and picked up her daughter with a smile, holding her close, β€œAre you all ready my love?” she asked placing a kiss upon the girls flaxen locks. Cecily nodded eagerly, β€œWill papa be joining us?”

The mention of his name was enough for Harriet to shudder, she did feel somewhat guilty in leaving without warning but it was a feeling she quickly suppressed, β€œNot this time my love, but you will see him very soon I promise. Come now, your grandmother will be waiting for us at Pendlebury and we don’t want to keep her waiting do we?”




The journey to Pendlebury had not been a particularly long one; it was less than a day’s ride to her father’s home, but being four months pregnant took its toll on Harriet’s strength and she found herself sleeping most of the journey and thankfully Cecily had followed her mother’s example and took the journey to sleep also. When she had awoken, they had been less than a mile from Pendlebury and just in time also, for as they reached the estates cast iron gate the heavens opened, cascading a torrent of rain down upon their carriage. The storm set in for the night then on, rain lashed down with ferocity, the wind lapped at the trees and thunder clashed above them creating an almighty clasp and a blinding light and poor little Cecily had not left her mother’s side since it began.

Of course, Cecily had always been the most timid and frightful out of the golden haired Rayleigh girls, where as Lizzie had always been so strong and exuberant, very little scared the girl and when the storms happened she would quite often just stare out her window and watch, she was intrigued by everything, so much like her father. Putting Cecily to bed that night had been a battle in itself, she had cried and screamed bloody Mary for her father, for her protector and that had only rubbed salt into her wounds. Her guilt had become overwhelming and if it hadn’t been for a sudden surge of inner strength, Harriet would have crumbled, but finally after singing soothing lullabies and a couple of short stories, Cecily was lulled into a soft slumber and Harriet returned to her mother.

Entering the smallest of the sitting rooms within the splendid Stanford home, Harriet immediately spotted Annabelle nestled in a plush armchair beside the fire, β€œshe is finally asleep.” Harriet sighed in relief as she poured both her and her mother a chalice of wine, handing it to her before taking a seat in the chair adjacent, β€œI must say, it does feel good to be home.”

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Annabelle looked up at her eldest daughter with a warm smile, but the smile did not reach her eyes, it was lacking something, although whatever it was Harriet did not realise, or if she did she did not comment on it. β€œI am glad you are here also, I know I was a firm advocate for you remaining in Briar, but looking at you now you seem lighter, perhaps this time apart will do you both some good.” Her words were reassuring and stamped out some of the guilt which Cecily had stirred in her heart, β€œThank you mother, it eases my heart to hear you say that. I’ve been feeling recently that Cece too is joining in her father’s battle against me, she always cries for him, never me…” As Harriet relayed her fears to her mother, her voice began to croak and crack under the strains of a sob.

Reaching out Annabelle grasped her daughters hand and gently ran her thumb over the gentle flesh of Harriet’s knuckles, β€œMy love, she had just lost her sister; she is confused and too young to comprehend what has truly happened. Cecily is in a strange place, it’s only natural that she is missing the parent that is not here, had Charles taken her to the Vale then she would be missing you just as equally, children are fickle like that.” Annabelle tried her best to lighten the mood, although it seemed to have the opposite effect on her daughter.

Harriet’s face twisted at her words, her tears clouding her steel hues as she choked on a sob, β€œI just miss her so much, mother, she was my baby and I-I just feel incomplete without her.”

β€œThat is only natural my love, the pain will never truly go away but with time it will get easier and I know that must sound redundant right now, but I swear to you it shall, but it only happen if you see the joy in what you have left. You are with child again, think of the joy you will feel when you hold that child in your arms and think of Cecily’s joy when she meets her little brother or sister.”

For a moment Harriet paused, letting her mother’s words sink in, she was right, the past weeks had been likened to a dark pit of despair, but she could see some light and with every giggle which fell from her daughters lips or every time her hand grazed over her swollen stomach, that light shone a little brighter. Although it wasn’t much of one, Harriet offered a small but thankful smile before sipping on her wine, suppressing her anguish for a more solitary time. β€œCan you believe that the last time I came here was just a few months after Cece was born,” she spoke quickly, mindful to change the subject.

Annabelle gasped suddenly, her eyes widening in shock, β€œTruly! It was that long ago?” Harriet nodded with a small laugh, β€œTruly, mother. I remember because Eleanor…” Suddenly she paused, the lump rising in her throat as she came to think of her sister, she could have done with her sister support during this time. β€œshe was so helpful with the girls, she stayed with them most nights, reading and singing them lullabies- mother how is she?”

For a brief moment Annabelle was stunned by Harriet’s sudden question over her sister wellbeing, before she had refused to so much as utter her name on occasion and so she took this as a welcomed development and hope that maybe, just maybe her family would not remain separated forever. Of course there was also the chance that she was just being too optimistic, for Harriet changed her mind as often as she changed her gowns, it was frequent. She nodded quickly, β€œShe is well, it is very close to the end of her pregnancy and so that frightens her a little bit.”

Harriet nodded along, her expression close to stoic as she continued to sip on her wine. It was only natural for a woman to be scared as her pregnancy drew to a close, she herself had been petrified once her labour pains began, especially the first time, but she had also been lucky enough to have her mother and her sister in the birthing room for comfort, Eleanor would have none of that. β€œIs the pregnancy progressing normally?” she asked with a hint of concern in her tone. Harriet wasn’t sure what had brought on the urge to enquire about her sister’s pregnancy, she had known for months and truthfully she had only worried about it in the past. Her sister’s miscarriages were well known about court and few seldom suspected that she would get this far without another and shamefully Harriet had been one of those people, but as the months dragged on and Eleanor’s pregnancy progressed, her own fears grew as did her own pressure to produce an heir. She and Charles had always been active in that area; they did not just have sex to produce children but also for the love and passion they shared with one another and more often than not the pair struggled to keep their hands of each other. However after Cecily, a long gap transpired until her next pregnancy, close to four years in fact and Harriet had begun to worry that she may never give her husband a son. Thankfully that may not be the case after all. Now, to Harriet it did not matter what Eleanor birthed, be it a boy or a girl, because with this pregnancy it just proved that she wasn’t baron and should it be a girl, she was confident boys would come one day, however Charles might not be as patient, especially now. No, it did not matter what the exiled Queen birthed, Harriet just hoped that the babe was healthy, she couldn’t bear the thought of her sister another child, not now, not now she knows that pain.

β€œBy all accounts, yes. However there is still the risk and I do worry for her so, I do not know if she could cope up there if it happens again.” Annabelle sighed as Harriet frowned at the thought, β€œIt is worrying.” she admitted truthfully. β€œYou’ve not written to her about Lizzie have you? I would like you to do so but I fear what the shock would do to her.”

Annabelle shook her head as she brought the chalice down from her lips, β€œNo, no…but I did write to Jonathan, I wanted him to know before James found out. Although I don’t know how well he could hide, I don’t suspect he took the news well, he always loved your children.” Harriet smiled softly, remembering the times both Jonathon and George were ensnared in Lizzie’s and Cece’s trap, even from a babe she had both her brothers wrapped around her finger. β€œGood, I’m glad you told him before another did.”

ImageThey fell into a silence for a little while, both of their eyes transfixed upon the dancing flames, β€œMother I want to write to Eleanor and Jonathan,” Harriet stated suddenly, he gaze moving to meet her mother’s once again shocked faΓ§ade, β€œand I want you to deliver it to them personally.”

Stunned into silence, tears rose within Annabelle’s blue hues, her shaking hand coming to cover her trembling lip, had Harriet honestly just suggested she go North to be by her youngest daughter’s side as she gave birth. Was it some cruel trick of her mind? Or rather a cruel trick of Harriet’s? Surely the Queen of Seabel could not be suggesting that her own mother took the treasonous journey to the Northern Kingdom to see her exiled children, surely not? β€œOh Harriet you must not tease me with such things.”

β€œIt is not a jape mother, I am telling you to go. No one will notice and if they do, then I can easily cover your absence.” Reaching out she grasped her mother’s hand, β€œWhy?” Harriet merely sighed at the breathy question, β€œbecause I have come to realise the meaning of family. My loyalties will forever lie with Charles and a part of me…the part of me that is Queen can never truly forget nor forgive what they did. However I am also their sister and so my love for them out ways my anger, I’ve just been too stubborn to admit it. You once asked me what I would do if I had two divided children and I couldn’t answer back then, but now…now, I would truly do anything to see Lizzie once again.

Annabelle was speechless, but she did rise to her feet pulling Harriet with her and embrace her daughter warmly, β€œBut what about you? I cannot leave you alone with your grief.”

β€œIt would cause me more grief if you did not go. Honestly mother I shall be fine, I have Lady Poole to keep me company and George will be coming in a few days, you honestly needn’t worry.” Beaming brightly Annabelle pressed her lips against her daughter brow in a affection and lasting kiss before pulling away, β€œThank you my love, thank you so much.”

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Character Portrait: Eleanor Lancaster
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Eleanor took her seat carefully at the dining table, lowering her enormous weight into the seat slowly. A few servants fussed around her, pouring her a glass of wine and presenting her with bread. They all eyed her warily, treating her with the greatest care and concern. They pussyfooted around her, as though they expected her to break at any moment. Her very advanced pregnancy was responsible for the concern that they treated her with, but the skittishness to speak to her was for an entirely different reason. Despite Eleanor’s best efforts to hide her fears and terror, she was now waking up screaming with her nightmares. All her servants and ladies and even those of the court seemed to be aware of her disintegrating mental state and, though all were too polite to mention it, had begun treating her like an invalid.

β€œHis Majesty is just coming,” one of the servants offered and Eleanor nodded, raising the glass to her lips and taking a sip.
Despite being quite so close to giving birth, Eleanor had grown sick of having her dinner in her chambers and the urge not to spend another night alone with her thoughts had driven her to demanding she be allowed to have dinner with her husband. So he had promised he would be there that evening, and as Eleanor sat patiently waiting for him she saw her brother enter the room to pass through. He was looking down, his eyes fixed upon a letter he held in his hand. He was clearly completely absorbed by the words which graced the page. He stroked a line gently, as though caressing words that were familiar and precious to him. Suddenly, she saw him lift a hand to his cheek, almost surprised, and brush away a tear.

Eleanor felt her heart freeze in her chest and she felt sick to her stomach, setting down the piece of bread on her plate, suddenly put off. Eleanor had known, she had just known. Yet, she’d been ignoring it; not wanting to acknowledge what she knew would be a horrible truth. She had had the feeling for at least a week that there was a secret being kept from her. People seemed to whisper as she entered a room and when she got close to them, they instantly fell silent. It wasn’t that she hadn’t tried to find out what it was that she was not being told. In her present state, she’d been sleeping a lot and the majority of the time she didn’t spend asleep was consumed with worried thoughts for her child. Or, at least, that was the reason she had given herself for her lack of persistence at discovering the truth. But, in part, it was truly that she knew the truth was nothing good, and she thought if perhaps, she ignored it for a little longer, she would save herself the pain a little long.

β€œJonathon,” she said, getting his attention and halting him in his tracks. He turned towards her, startled she was in the room. He quickly pushed the paper into his pocket and she saw him blinking viciously before turning towards her. He was clearly regretting taking this route and wishing Eleanor hadn’t halted him.

β€œSister,” he greeted her formally. Though Jon had always been respectful towards her, in recent days it had felt as though his respect was becoming distance and he was trying his upmost to avoid her. He spoke to her with a lack of familiarity and affection, an almost frightening detachment, and he wouldn’t meet her eye.

She could see Jonathon preparing to say something, clearly in order to distract her from the real reason she had stopped him, which was something they were both fully aware of. But Eleanor got there first.

β€œWhat’s wrong, Jon?” she asked him, her tone confrontational, but also holding an air of desperation and worry, as though she was begging him to tell her. She had seen his tears. She could no longer pretend whatever they were keeping from her was unimportant or inconsequential to her. If she didn’t ask now, the real reason she was avoiding finding out would be wide open with no possibility of pretending she hadn’t noticed. It would play on her mind, worrying her.

Jonathon froze for a moment at her question, clearly weighing up his options. He plastered a look of confusion across his features, deciding upon the innocent, clueless approach. β€œWhat are you talking about, Eleanor?” he asked.

Suddenly, Eleanor felt anger take a grip on her, her mood changing instantly, as she found was becoming more and more frequent as her pregnancy went on. How dare he pretend not to know when she had questioned him? He was in on this, with James and all those around her. He was helping them hide something from her, when he was her brother and should be on her side.

β€œYou know damn well what I am talking about,” Eleanor shot back, throwing an accusing glance at the letter.

She watched a look of guilt cross Jonathon’s countenance, knowing he was caught. Then, completely unexpectedly, his eyes filled with tears once more.

Eleanor looked at him, wide-eyed. It truly was something terrible, there was no denying it. β€œIs it Father?” Eleanor asked in a rush, stumbling over her words. It had always been a deep rooted fear within her mind that something might happen to her once beloved father and she would never have chance to see him again.

Jon shook his head, looking down, embarrassed by his weakness. β€œThen what is it?” Eleanor begged him.

β€œI can’t tell you, El,” he said softly. He had cracked, knowing he could truly hide nothing from his sister. But his admission was all she needed to implore him for more.

β€œPlease, Jon,” she said, her voice thick with emotion and her own approaching tears.

He took a step towards her, shaking his head. But he was already beyond the point of not telling her. Whatever terrible thing it was, he needed to share it with his sister, for his own sanity more than her own. Then he said softly, almost imperceptibly, β€œIt’s Lizzie, Eleanor. Lizzie’s dead.”

β€œNo…” the words tumbled breathlessly from Eleanor’s lips, the colour draining from her skin. Her beautiful blue eyes went wide with horror and they shimmered with brimming tears.

Eleanor was in shock. How could Lizzie be dead? She couldn’t. She simply couldn’t be! Though the girl was not hers, Eleanor had spent a great deal of time with the child before she’d left. While Cecily had only been a baby upon Eleanor’s departure, Lizzie already had a tiny personality of her own. She was always such a sweet girl, but there was a sparkle of adventure in her eyes too. A sparkle that had now been extinguished, along with her precious little life. A tear escaped Eleanor’s eye as she thought of her sister, having to say goodbye to her firstborn. No loss rivalled that of a mother’s, even Eleanor knew that. There was nothing worse on this earth than the image in Eleanor’s mind of her sister having to bury her child, long before her time. In that moment, all Eleanor wanted was to be with her estranged sister, to hold her and share her pain.

But before she could dwell on that thought, another over took her mind, forcing itself forward in paranoid panic. Could the death of Harriet’s child be a foreshadowing of her own child’s inevitable mortality? Could it be a sign from God that He would never let her baby pass into this world alive? In an instantly, Eleanor felt bitterly cruel and selfish, to worry for her own baby when she had just heard of the death of her sister’s. But so many thoughts were swimming through Eleanor’s troubled mind at that moment that she could barely sort one from the other. There was such a lot of grief, mixed with terror and horror and shock.

Eleanor shook her head. β€œNo…” she uttered again, rising to her feet. She took a step towards her brother, wanting to feel the comforting arms of a sibling, even if it was not the sibling she most wanted to see at present. Whether it be the shock of what she had just heard, her pregnancy, or the simple act of standing up too quickly, suddenly, Eleanor felt her vision began to swim and a wave of dizziness overtook her completely. She flailed her arm out desperately, trying to reach out for the oak table that she knew was beside her, but her hand continued to travel through the air, missing the table and grasping for something to save her.

Eleanor swayed a look of pure fright on her ashen features. Her body hit the ground with a dull, sickening thud. There were a few moments of complete silence in which she didn’t move. Jonathon watched on, rooted to the spot with shock, unable to do anything. It was the moment of calm before the storm. Then, Eleanor let out a horrific, piercing scream of agony as pain shattered through her body.

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4 Characters Present

Character Portrait: Charles Rayleigh Character Portrait: Harriet Rayleigh Character Portrait: Henry Stanford Character Portrait: Mary Raleigh
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"For Lizzie...and for you." Charles wiped at his eyes roughly, trying in vain to clear them of tears, though they were replaced by new ones as a fresh wave of sobs prevented him from speaking.

"T-thank you..." he whispered, given he wasn't able to produce much louder sound without breaking down. Not only was his daughter gone, but his wife had left him and he knew the Lancaster's were brewing some sort of trouble up North. For once, despite his mother's presence, he felt utterly alone. "I...I am not sure I would make it too far without you here." He paced the room quickly, feeling his achieve solace only if he kept moving and didn't allow the grief to ensnare him. It was a futile attempt, but it was an attempt none the less and he certainly felt better moving around rather than sitting like his mother had.

"Life certainly has a way of rising you up before things come crashing down, but you must be strong, now more than ever. If there are pieces that have fallen, then they must be picked up and treasured, held together." Charles let out a sharp laugh, shaking his head quickly as if denying her words.

"Life has given me much hope, Mother. After Father died, I thought I would not make it through the night. Yet, I rose above it and I healed...but, this is much different. She was my daughter, Mother...my first born child and I lost her." He placed a fist against his mouth quickly, hoping to choke back more tears. "I could not even protect my own child...how am I to be entrusted with an entire kingdom, Mother? I am nothing but a failure." Mary Rayleigh stood, letting go of Lizzie's limp, ashen hand.

"Harriet is....facing...challenges..of her own right now. These are hard times, but you must endure." Charles tensed and looked as if he were ready to snap again. But, Mary reached and placed her hand on his arm, so he decided to hold himself back for her sake. "These are hard times, but you must endure. If anyone can hold strong in the face of adversity, it is a Rayleigh!" He sighed and looked at her sadly.

"Mother...Harriet and I both lost our daughter," he replied, fighting to stay calm. "Her challenges are my challenges...and, yet, she has gone ahead and ignored me." She didn't reply and, perhaps, he was glad she didn't, for Mary Rayleigh always made a good argument and Charles knew that either he would have to give into her or the two would simply be locked in a stubborn face-off, neither one budging. In a way, that's how it seemed between himself and Harriet, for they both had the same problems, yet they would not go to each other now for console.

"You warriors stand tall on the battlefield, but it is time to go to a different plane, to be..a prayer warrior, for on our knees, we are stronger than trees, which is the only chance I get at being taller than you." He let out a gentle laugh, forcing a smile to briefly cross his lips. "Will you join me?"

"It is certainly Father who I can thank for my height," he quipped. "For if I had inherited your stature, I would hardly come up to James Lancaster's shoulder." He grew solemn at her suggestion and slowly crossed the room with his mother. The two slowly knelt beside the bed where Lizzie lay and Charles clasped his hands together, head bowing in solemn prayer. The minutes seemed to drag long as he prayed for his daughter's soul. Finally, though, he raised his head of auburn hair and looked once more at his child before uttering the end of his prayer. "Amen, my darling."



"Amen to that, my friend!"

It had been two days seen Harriet Rayleigh had last been seen in Briar. In fact, despite this lengthy period, Charles hadn't seemed to notice at all that his wife was no longer roaming the halls. Then again, after their daughter's funeral, she hadn't even left her chambers. So, in fact, Charles hadn't seen his wife for weeks. Even Cecily seemed distant to him, but so did everyone these days as he'd blocked just about everyone and everything from his mind with a shroud of alcohol-induced ignorance.

After the funeral, his wife had simply gone ahead and locked herself away. At first, Charles approached with a calm, friendly tone. It only lasted a few days, though, for he soon found himself at her door shouting and cursing bloody murder and her. He knew that she wouldn't respond to such force, but he didn't really care either. The anger was his way of coping. No one in the castle, in fact, was safe from his wrath. By the time the second week had begun, Charles gave up trying to convince his wife. The last interaction he remembered involving his wife was the slamming of his fist against her door before storming away.
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He wanted to pretend that his life was the same before the death, that it had resumed a sense of normality. For less than a day, he kept this lie going and continued to feed it to himself. Yet, everywhere he looked, there was some noble shooting him a gaze full of pity and sadness. They were trying to show pity to their king. No, he did not need their pity. He would show them he was fine, that he was strong and stable.

And so, he had begun to drink, trying to push himself into a happier state. Yet, his court still pitied him, threw him quick glances or a short "I'm so sorry, Your Highness" as he passed in the halls of his palace. At first it began to annoy him and he snapped. He yelled, he snarled, and he simply tried to take his anger out on someone for the grief he'd been dealt. By the time Harriet left, the court seemed to finally be learning that pity was met with violence and so they'd stopped all together, except for the tradition black clothing which even Charles still wore, though he wished only to discard the somber tones and return to his usual clothing which he viewed as more fit for a monarch.

Despite this facade, though, he was far from stable. There were nights in which his sobs echoed through the castle and he was forced the wander sleeplessly until morning light filtered through the widows. He tried to refuse food at first, but he finally decided to accept it when he realized the refusal made him simply look weaker. On top of the alcohol, he'd surrounded himself with pastimes and hobbies, trying to keep the stress of running a kingdom as far away as possible for as long as possible.

"Oh, Lord! That story gets me every time, I swear!" His throne room had almost emptied by that afternoon. The chatter came from only Charles and his most trusted group of men, including both Harold Pierrepont and Henry Stanford, though the latter was as reserved as ever and simply looked at Charles every once and a while with an expression that conveyed both disgust and pity, although most nobles had abandoned the pitying expressions. Charles's laughter rang out in the room, echoing off of the high rafters in an odd manner. It certainly seemed out of place for the king for be laughing so loudly despite the situation he was in. Even the man who had told the story was quiet and looked uneasily around.

"It reminds of that bitch of a wife I have..." he muttered, a smirk still on his lips despite the uneasy glances being cast around. A bit of movement caught Charles's eye and he looked to Henry who had shuffled awkwardly, trying to keep himself from speaking up against his king. "Lord Stanford, come here!" The older man's fists clenched behind his back, but he obediently moved forward and bowed quickly before the throne.

"My King?" Henry asked, his normal monotonous voice silencing the others as they turned to look at the two. Charles stood from his throne and started down toward Henry until the two stood only a foot or so apart. Looking down at his elder with a bemused expression, Charles let out a chuckle. He obviously had no common sense about him, else he would have held his tongue around the man who was much stronger than him both physically and perhaps mentally.

"You have been quiet this entire time, Lord Stanford..." he said, clasping his hands before himself. "What is your opinion? Is my mother-in-law the same way towards you? Does she treat you in the same way mine does? Is she unresponsive? Disrespectful?" Henry looked up at Charles with a blank gaze.

"No, of course not," he said simply. "For my wife still has respect for me."
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"Is that so?" Charles said carefully, nodding his head slowly as he thought these words over. "I had assumed all Stanford women were raised to treat their husbands like scum." Henry could have suffered in silence under most circumstances, but there was one thing that tended to push him over the edge. This, of course, was when his family was threatened.

"That is where you are wrong, Your Highness," he stated defiantly. "My wife and daughters know how to treat men, I assure you. But, you're not much of a man these days, are you? Have you even read the letter she left you? She's done this for your own good." Charles had turned a bright shade of some red by then, looking as if he were ready to let loose and throw a punch at Henry.

"Done what, pray tell?" he managed to snarl out.

"She's left for Pendlebury with your daughter and my wife," Henry continued. His voice remained monotonous, but that only seemed to amplify the effect his words held. "You've gone ahead and chased her away." The words came as a slap to the face for Charles who managed a look of pure shock and then of despair as if finally coming to after all this time.

"No...she would not leave me..." he whispered. "Harriet would never leave me, you fool!" A voice sounded over his shoulder and Charles turned, coming face to face with Pierrepont as the man held out a piece of paper.

"Your Highness...I had almost forgotten to give you this. The Queen left it with me before she and her mother disembarked." Charles looked to the man with desperation and then disbelief. How had they forgotten to tell him this?! His own wife had left him and he had not the slightest clue! His eyes scanned over the words as Henry further insulted him and chided him. They came as figurative slaps to the face to Charles who had, of course, been trying to ignore things like this up unlike now.

"A real man would mount his horse and ride out to Pendlebury now." Henry glared daggers at Charles with his dark green eyes. "Tell me, Charles, are you a real man?" Slowly, Charles turned to face Pierrepont, his face void of expression while his mind raced like it hadn't since the death of his daughter.

"Tell the stable boys to ready my horse, Pierrepont...I will leave for Pendlebury in a quarter-hour."




Charles certainly could not remember the last time he had ridden so quickly. Pendlebury was usually a day's ride away but he found himself nearing the home in hours. Then again, he'd kept his horse in a quick canter or a gallop for most of the ride. His agitation seemed to spark the horse forward and so she raced along, her hooves smacking the dirt pathway with every step.
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Charles seemed to have sobered completely, for his mind was no longer muddled with drink or ignorance. Instead, the sharp reality of Harriet leaving Briar, even for just a period, made him uneasy. It pierced through the foggy daze he created and threatened to tear him apart. The letter had said she was preparing to stay there to give birth to their child which, he knew, was still months away. Had he really pushed her so far away she was willing to have their child somewhere away from him? He'd been present at the birth of both of his children and he certainly wouldn't miss this one, given it was hopefully the birth of his heir.

The prospect of losing Harriet was killing him, though. He'd seen marriages where both spouses looked as if they wished to kill each other. Before, he and his wife had laughed at them but, now he worried that they would become them. Suddenly, he spurred his horse on and into the courtyard of Pendlebury with a few guards behind him, simply to make sure their monarch was not in harm's way.

In a fluid motion, he slid from his horse's back and hurried toward the doors of Pendlebury. Servants quickly opened them for him, though they were obviously shocked by his abrupt and disheveled appearance as Charles rushed forward into the estate. It was late. So late, in fact, that he assumed Harriet must have gone to bed along with Cecily and most of the servants. Yet, that still didn't stop him from crying out to his wife.

Harriet!" he called, his voice echoing loudly back at him. Harriet, come here, please!" Though he still refrained from using their usual terms of endearment, he couldn't help but sound as if he were pleading with her to come back to him. Chest rising and falling rapidly, he waited, praying she'd come. If she didn't...well, he had not a clue what he would do.

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Character Portrait: Eleanor Lancaster Character Portrait: James Lancaster
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James Lancaster was many things, some called him arrogant, others called delusional and there was those who though him nothing more than a bastard, all of them were true to some extent or another. However there was one thing that James was not and that was heartless, no, there were many things which could be said about the exiled Prince, but being heartless was certainly not one of them, especially when it came to children. When the news arrived from Seabel about Princess Elizabeth’s untimely death, he had been genuinely remorseful, not because he believed he was at fault for the child’s death by all accounts she had died of the sweating sickness, quite a common cause for all children’s deaths in the realm. However he did feel remorseful for wishing them harm in his darkest days, a time not so long ago when it felt everyone in the entire world was against him and he had stooped so low as to pray for the death of all the Rayleigh’s, the two small girls included, wishing for the end of Charles and Harriet was one thing, but to wish the deaths of two innocent little girls was utterly incomprehensible and only now could he see this.

Technically Elizabeth was his niece, Cecily too, they were of Eleanor’s blood and had the circumstances been different he could have perhaps loved them as such, however things were how they were, they were Rayleigh’s, Charles’ flesh and blood more so than Eleanor’s and for that reason he could not allow himself to feel much for them, at least not in public. That had been the main reason James had almost seemed impassive when he received the news during a council meeting a few weeks going, his advisors and supporters could not see him pitying the Rayleigh’s, any of them, even the children, they would see it as a weakness and weakness was crippling these days.

β€œHow plans developing with the Emerald Isles?” James asked suddenly, stopping the Lord who had been in the middle of speaking about some irrelevant nonsense once again. As expected the man, a certain Lord McGuire had seemed startled if not a little annoyed at James’ interruption, although this did not fail the Prince, β€œWell my Lord?” he pressed his fingers drumming lightly on the arm of his chair.

McGuire cleared his throat as Henry looked towards his brother with a disapproving glance, then again no amount of glances or quiet words could sway his brother stubbornness and downright rudeness at times, James had a Kings mentality but without the official titles and he would have to sooner rather than later that his men may still defect against him, he was not King yet. β€œWell, your grace…preparations are good, although we have heard that the Rayleigh’s have sent their own ambassadors to King Kaven’s court, it is not unlikely that they will do what they can to push Charles’ younger sister Margaret towards the Prince.”

James merely nodded, absorbing the news, although his reaction was not one people had suspected. There was neither temper nor flare, just simply acceptation of the news, β€œwell that was to be expected. However I don’t feel we have anything to worry about, I remember this Margaret Rayleigh and she was nothing compared to our Sara.” He spoke confidently, his faith in Sara’s appeal unwavering, it was no secret that the youngest Lancaster was a beautiful woman, the perfect woman in most respects and to James the pair were already as good as married. By all accounts Prince Lewis had been infatuated with his sister and this had only instilled James’ confidence with the alliance. β€œHow is there any other news?”

β€œActually you grace…” Lord Belmont rose from his seat, a letter clutched within his grasp, β€œI have some news from my nephew in the Rayleigh’s court, it would appear that the Princess Elizabeth has died of the Sweating Sickness.” The news stunned the men sat around the table and James himself was knocked back by the news, his hawk like emerald eyes took in people’s different reactions, some looked almost rejoiced and others made a quick cross upon their chest out of respect for the young girl. James himself did what he could to seem impassive, he nodded releasing a heavy sigh as he contemplated what to do with information, β€œThis news must not leave this room and by no means must this be repeated to the Queen, I do not wish to cause her any distress in her current situation.” The Lords agreed most nodding and mumbling under their breaths, but all ultimately decided it would be best not to distress James wife at the risk of another miscarriage.


That had been weeks ago and still James had to find away to tell Eleanor that her niece had died, it was something that he thought about daily; on one hand he wanted to tell his wife, she deserved to know but a part of him feared what the grief would bring, could it bring about another miscarriage? Eleanor was so far along he had hoped that they were past most dangers, but the threat constantly remained and that scared James more than anything. As he walked along the corridor towards his wife’s chambers the thought remained heavily at the forefront of his mind, although all thought were cleared suddenly at the sound of a high pitched scream resounding down the halls.

Eye’s wide with fright as James recognised his wife’s high pitched tones; his legs seemed to react before his mind and he took off running towards the direction of the scream. β€œEleanor!” He screamed, tearing open the door to her dining room, freezing at the sight of his wife upon the floor, β€œEleanor!” he roared once again, rushing to her side, dropping to his knees at her side and gathering her into his arms, β€œGo get the physician now!” he ordered a still startled Jonathan. β€œIt’s okay my love, I am here” he soothed rising to his feet once again and rushed towards the door which lead into her bed chambers, placing her upon the bed immediately, his hand grasping hers, β€œCome on love, you’ll be okay!” James spoke hastily, unsure whether the words were more for his benefit and reassurance than Ellie’s.

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Character Portrait: Charles Rayleigh Character Portrait: Harriet Rayleigh
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Two days had passed since Annabelle’s departure from Pendlebury and already Harriet was feeling her departure, her mother had always instilled a sense of calm within her, her words were comforting and her actions peaceful and without her Harriet struggled to keep her emotions at bay. The Queen was anxious, fretful and sorrowful all at once, and yet happier, humorous and even sometimes peaceful, her emotions changed hourly, such a fluctuation caused not only by the death of her precious child, but also her heightened hormones which stirred with child growing in her womb. She was anxious about everything and nothing at all, it was true over the past weeks Harriet had become extremely protective over Cecily, perhaps even overbearing and she barely let the child leave her side and insisted on everything which surrounded the little Princess being cleaned daily. Sometimes she thought herself to be mad, but then every time she closed her eyes, Lizzie’s ashen face came to the forefront of her mind, haunting her. No, she would not let her negligence be the cause of another of her child’s death, for Cecily’s sake and her own, for she could surely not survive losing her other daughter also.

ImageMany had tried to tell her over the past weeks that Elizabeth’s death should not be on her conscious, that it was just an unfortunate occurrence that the Princess had come down with the fever and that there was no prevention from the virus. A part of Harriet wanted to believe the words, it would make her life a lot easier to deal with, perhaps it was more to do with the guilt she felt over the situation with Charles, but whatever the reason she could not forgive herself, even if there was nothing to forgive.

Harriet’s days at Pendlebury had been relatively uneventful; she had done what she could to keep busy, entertaining Cecily, walking around the gardens, taking to Lady Poole, anything she could do to keep her mind from wondering too much to Lizzie and Charles. She missed them dearly, missed them both and yet some of her pain was by her down doing, her own stubbornness ruling her head, instead of following her heart. It was proving to be a very difficult situation to deal with. She wished her mother was here and not travelling north, naturally the thought only added to her guilt, Harriet had been the one to encourage her to go and now in hindsight that probably wasn’t the wisest of ideas. It wasn’t that her worries over Eleanor had ceased, on the contrary her sister weighed on her mind quite heavily over the past days and a part of her felt happy that Annabelle was well on her way to being with her daughter, however she also worried about James’ reaction to her mother arrival. Would he take her prisoner? If he did would her father mount an attack to get her back? So many thoughts and concerns played on her mind, but the only thing she could truly do was wait and find out news.

Imageβ€œMother, mother!” Cecily’s small voice beckoned Harriet from her thoughts, turning from glancing out the window; her solemn expression was replaced by a happy smile as she greeted her daughter. Bending down gently to her knees, Harriet opened her arms as Cecily ran towards her, greeting her mother with an affectionate embrace. Wrapping her arms around her daughter, Hattie placed repeated kisses against her daughters head, breathing in her scent as she did, β€œhmm, how are you my darling?”


β€œGood mother, look what I found!” The little princess gushed quickly as Harriet pulled back from her daughter, it was only then did she notice the small kitten nestled in her daughters arms, how had she not seen the cat upon Cecily’s entrance? Never the less, Harriet smiled and gently ran her hand across the kittens back, smiling as it purred under her touch. β€œWhere did you find her darling?” she enquired, β€œin the kitchens, the cooks cat had kittens! Can I keep her mama? Please!” Cecily begged, cuddling the kitten to her cheek. Harriet was hesitant, her daughters attention span was not the greatest at the best of times, she quickly tired of things, her kitten back in Briar had been a prime example, she had loved the feline for two weeks before she had grown bored, but looking into Cecily’s eyes Harriet quickly cave. β€œOh very well, what shall you name her?” Cecily paused for a moment, her little mind contemplating the different options, β€œKitty!” she announced proudly.

Harriet almost laughed, it hadn’t been the most inventive name ever imagined, but it was Cecily’s decision and so she simply smiled, β€œIt suits her well.”




By the evening Harriet was truly exhausted, Cecily had tired her immensely over the past few days, especially when it came to her tantrums. During the day she seemed relaxed and composed, played and laughed like any other child, but then on a evening she cried and yelled for her father and sometimes even Lizzie and that just about broke her heart, she felt like a failure as a mother, what type of mother would take a child away from their father when they too were grieving? She felt utterly awful. Harriet knew for certain this Charles must be taking this as a betrayal, she was certain he must hate her, but she couldn’t exactly blame him for doing so, she had been horrid to him over the past weeks, shunned him, belittled him…hated him, she had wanted nothing more than to just hurt him, as he had done to her, but now Harriet was beginning to fear that she had possibly gone too far. It was a thought that had been on her mind for days, scaring her beyond belief, what if she had pushed him too far away, what if his anger stemmed upon Cecily, what if he began to hate her too; she would hate to think that any man could do such a thing, let alone Charles, but unfortunately history was filled with Kings and commoners alike forsaking their families for a new one. Was that what was to become of Rayleigh’s also? Would Charles bastardise Cecily and the child that grew within her and then ship her off to some nunnery to live out her days without her children, only to marry one younger and more beautiful, someone who could easily give Charles what Harriet could not? The truth was Harriet’s life would soon cease to be if she saw Charles love another woman above herself, which would be a fate worse than death.

ImageWith so many harrowing thoughts and emotions running through the Queen’s mind that evening, you would surprised to see the rather void expression plaguing her visage, her red rimmed eyes were the only fathom that all was not right with the queen of Seabel. Yet no one dared asked her about it, something which she was thankful about in all honesty, if she heard any more condolences or worries tones Harriet would have surely erupted with anger. Lady Poole stood behind her unlacing her dress and helping her ready for bed, unlike most nights there was no conversation to be heard against the two women, even as a lady-in-waiting, Harriet considered the woman a friend but even so she could not bring herself to open up to her, not tonight anyway, she was far too exhausted both physically and mentally. Once she swapped her gown for a nightgown and her hair was combed through, Harriet clambered into the spacious and empty bed, laying her head down upon the pillow Harriet let her hand run over the void space next to her, Charles should be lying there, that was all she could think about. Finally after a few moments of deep contemplation, her eyes began to close and the Queen was lulled into a deep but troublesome sleep, it would seem that even in her slumber Charles would not escape her mind.

Harriet was not sure how long she had been asleep for, but suddenly she heard the tones of Bridgette’s frantic voice pulling her away from the sand man. She perhaps would have been mad if her ladies maid tone had not been so worrisome, β€œLady Poole, what is it? Is it Cecily?” Harriet asked her voice hoarse for a moment as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes. β€œNo My lady, it is his majesty! He is downstairs calling for you!”

β€œC-Charles is here?” Harriet repeated, every sense in her body suddenly becoming alerted, she swallowed the lump in her throat as she looked at Bridgette with wide and petrified eyes. What had brought him so far South? Had he come to take Cecily away from her for good? The thought terrified her. β€œBring Cecily to me immediately and then go and tell his majesty that I shall not receive him at such an hour.” If Bridgette had any reservations about the tasks Harriet had bestowed onto her, she did not show them; then again she had always been faithful to her mistress. With a quick nod, the lady rose to her feet and hurried towards the door, just as she was about to open the door Harriet cried out to her, β€œNo! Stop!” She paused throwing bed her bed covers with haste, β€œI shall go and greet the King, you go to Cecily and stay with her until I relieve you.” As she spoke, Harriet grabbed her shall and wrapped it around her shoulders.

Stepping out into the corridor Harriet waited and watched as Bridgette hurried in the opposite direction, towards her daughter’s room. Hearing the click of the door, Harriet did what she could to compose herself before starting down the corridor. Pendlebury was by no means as large as Whinnfel Palace was in Briar, but the labyrinth of corridors was still enough to delay Harriet’s meeting Charles by a few moments. Eventually she reached the top of the stairs and looking down she could see her husband, stood by the door, his dishevelled appearance gave her the impression that he had ridden with some haste. It was also in this moment did Harriet realise that she had not seen Charles in weeks and it was only now was she realising how she had missed him. With one hand resting lightly upon the banister and the other lightly placing upon her protruding stomach, she began her decent before stopping midway. β€œCharles” she began her voice barely more than a whisper, β€œwhy are you here?” Harriet asked almost frightful of the answer.

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Character Portrait: Charles Rayleigh Character Portrait: Harriet Rayleigh
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Charles's chest continued to rise and fall rapidly as he stood in the hall of Pendlebury Estate. He'd been riding for ages, it seemed, and his entire body felt sore, felt tired. Perhaps, though, this was simply the grief he'd been experiencing all rushing over him at once. He suddenly couldn't even fight back a sense of exhaustion. Nothing seemed better now than to lay beside his wife in bed once again. It seemed like ages ago to him that they last shared a bed and, it truly was. The only time they'd spent nights apart was when he'd been off in battle.

Servants milled around, woken by his cries that still rung in his ears. Besides their occasional whispers, it was deafeningly silent and Charles certainly did not like it. He started to pull off his gloves and then toyed with the pieces of leather nervously. How would Harriet react? She would most likely anger, at first, for he'd come at such an unreasonable hour. Not only that, but she was still most likely enraged and hating him for whatever he'd done weeks ago when Lizzie died. He was, of course, still too stubborn to believe he'd rally done anything wrong. Had he not just been grieving like her? Had he not been looking out for her? Trying to keep not only his heir, but his wife safe? Even the doctor and her brother would have suggested it, but she hadn't ignored those men! These thoughts began to worry him and so he twisted the gloves in his hands, working the tough leather in an antsy manner.

It was then that he began to hear doors on the floors above, followed by footsteps, soft footsteps. Could it be her? Charles's gut knotted in anticipation and he swallowed a lump in his throat. Oh lord, perhaps this was not the best decision after all? Should he just go back to his mount and ride back to Briar? Charles sighed. No. No, he was a Rayleigh and Rayleigh men did not shy away in the face of danger or a threat. He would do what he had to do to ensure that his family stayed together, despite the tragedies they had faced.

The sound of footsteps drew nearer at a painfully slow rate until Charles felt he could no longer take it. What sort of torture was this? Finally, the sound stopped and he looked up toward the top of the stairs where Harriet stood, looking straight back at him. It had to have been weeks since he last saw her. Harriet seemed slightly less grievous, though obviously she had not recovered yet from the death, much like him. What caused him the most pain was seeing how much their unborn child seemed to have grown in the past weeks.

He seemed to be at a complete loss for words as Harriet slowly descended the stairs. He must have looked horrific, really. To have ridden so long would have made him look even more disheveled than he currently felt. She stopped midway, which worried Charles ever so slightly. "Charles," she whispered. The whisper, however, reached him in the quiet hall. "Why are you here?"

"Harriet..." he finally managed to croak out. He had wished he began in a more endearing manner, perhaps, but that was simply all he could get out. "Oh, Harriet..." Charles swallowed a lump again, fear rising. Had she already begun to hate him? Would he have arrived too late? "It feels like years since we've seen each other..." He gave a light laugh, but it was obvious this laugh was a sad one. He approached the staircase and hurried up a few of the stairs until he was only three away from Harriet. His stop was sudden, as if he'd just remembered they were still not back on good terms. "Why am I here...? I am not sure...perhaps I came because I could no longer stand the silent, judgmental faces in Briar...or, perhaps, because I missed your presence." He gave a light sigh, coupled with a fake laugh to try and make the mood less tense. His expression suddenly turned serious and he looked up into Harriet's eyes with evident concern.

"Hattie...I want to forget her death just as much as you," he whispered. "If I could have, I would have given my own life to save hers...as would you." He took a slow inhale of breath. "I am still not sure how I angered you...but, things can not carry on like this any longer. It has been a month now, Hallie. A month since her death and you have not so much as spoken a word to me." His jaw clenched and he looked away. "I expected more from my wife, Hattie...I expected someone who would comfort me as I comfort them, who would love me as I love them...I did not expect to be ignored, to be looked down upon by the woman I share my bed with. I have done nothing but love you since Lizzie died, Harriet...today, I almost stopped doing so. Today, I almost wished to cast you from my life...but, I came here instead." Silence ensued, a prolonged silence that seemed like it would last for ages. He then looked back at her, his eyes fixed on her blue ones. "Perhaps what I mean to say is will you come back to Briar with me? Will you resume your position as my wife? My queen? Will you continue to love me...?" He paused, obviously pained by the next part. "...or has this chapter of our lives simply come to a close? For, if you do not love me anymore, I see no point in keeping you in my household..." Perhaps his words were becoming too harsh, but he was speaking out of fear now.

"What will it be, Hattie...?"

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Character Portrait: Eleanor Lancaster Character Portrait: James Lancaster
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The moment Eleanor had hit the hard stone floor, the world seemed to fade away from her like smoke on a breeze. Sounds became distorted and distant and her eyelids became so heavy, as if an enormous weight was upon them, forcing them closed. A frightening cold, numbness washed over her body, as though she had been plunged into the iciest waters imaginable. The coldness froze her limbs, making it impossible for her to move. Though, it didn't worry Eleanor, to whom her thoughts were nothing more than an abstract haze.

But it was no more than a moment or two before Eleanor was dragged brutally back into reality by a horrific, hot pain. It burnt through her like wildfire, illuminating her previously darkened mind. The world rushed back, edges sharper than ever, colours brighter than before. A scream tore through her lips as she tried desperately to try and banish some of her agony. But it was to no avail. Terrified thoughts raced through Eleanor's mind and she began to panic. Her baby was in terrible danger, she could just feel it. She'd hurt him. What if he died? Oh God, what if he died?

Suddenly, she heard her name, bellowed in a voice that's terror was only rivalled by her own. It was followed by a crash, and then her name again. Her scream deadened, turning into a gasped sob. She felt her husband gather her into his arms and shout something to her brother.

"James," Eleanor choked out, letting out a cry of pain.

β€œIt’s okay my love, I am here," she heard him say. And suddenly, she was in his arms. Though his touch offered her no relief to her pain, it did comfort her slightly. Her body was lifted from the cold floor and she felt herself being carried through a door and placed incredibly gently upon her bed. His hand grasped hers and she squeezed it tightly, desperately frightened, as though she expected him to leave her at any moment.

β€œCome on love, you’ll be okay!” James promised. His words were strong and convincing, but his voice held his every worry and doubt.

There was a brief respite to Eleanor's pain and she looked up at him, her mind, despite what was happening, returning to another matter. Her eyes brimmed with tears. "You lied to me!" she said accusingly. "Why didn't you tell me Lizzie was dead?" she asked, her voice torn somewhere between anger and terrible grief.

Her darling mother's first granddaughter. Her beloved sister's little girl. Her precious niece. The girl she had seen born, helped raise for the first few years of her life, told stories too at bedtime and played make-believe with in the corridors of the castle. She was gone. Dead. Cold in her grave. Eleanor would never see her blond hair glow golden in the Southern sunlight again. She'd never see her blue eyes light up with excitement or her little, pearly white teeth as she beamed with childish joy. Even though she hadn't seen the child in nearly three years, she still loved her, and Eleanor had truly believed that somehow, one day, she would see Lizzie again. But now, that was impossible. Her niece was dead, and she hadn't even been able to say goodbye.

Suddenly, everything tightened like a steel band around her stomach and another awful pain lanced through her, worse than the last. Eleanor jackknifed, crying out, her hands placed either side of her stomach, clutching it, one hand still intertwined with James'. Eleanor turned to James, looking up at him, her eyes filled with fright.

"It's the baby," she cried. "There's something wrong with the baby." Eleanor paused, dragging in a ragged breath. A tear ran down her cheek and she told him honestly, for there was no use trying to protect him any more, "I'm afraid, James."

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Character Portrait: Charles Rayleigh Character Portrait: Harriet Rayleigh
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Seeing Charles again was almost like seeing a ghost, almost like seeing Lizzie before, it was enough for a lump to rise in her throat and for tears to well within her steel hues, something which surprised Harriet more than anything for she was certain she had cried the last of her tears days ago, she was surprised there was anything left. She had to admit, he did look good, despite his dishevelled appearance, his handsome features and tall stature still caused her heart to flutter as it did when they had first met. It had never been a case of not loving him, for Harriet had never stopped despite what she may have spoken in grief, Charles was her world just as much as her children, without him she was like a flower without the sunlight, she was unable to exist. Her heart constantly yearned for him, her body burning for his touch, even in her darkest days she had longed to feel him inside her, to feel his kisses pepper her milky flesh, to feel his hot breath against the nape of her neck. They once wrote stories of their love, it was said that never had a King loved his Queen so greatly and vice versa, now, she feared stories of how the Queen was too consumed by her grief that she lost her greatest love.

ImageThose thoughts plagued Harriet almost every night, she had been selfish, cowardly even and now she truly did feel remorse for her actions, despite her pride, she could admit that. β€œCharles…” she uttered breathlessly again, following his lead unsure how to begin…where to begin. "It feels like years since we've seen each other... Why am I here...? I am not sure...perhaps I came because I could no longer stand the silent, judgmental faces in Briar...or, perhaps, because I missed your presence." Her heart swelled for a moment, her hope gathering at the prospect of Charles actually missing her, could it be true? Had he missed her? Harriet had been almost certain that she had driven her husband to despise her, but here he stood before her, gazing at her through those beautiful soulful eyes. It was enough to bring a smile upon her lips.

Although it did not last long, at Charles’ very mention of Lizzie it faltered and her breathing hitched as if the room had suddenly been stripped dry of air. She placed her hand protectively upon her stomach, bending forward slightly as she tore her gaze away from his. Harriet shook her head, β€œI don’t want to forget. Nor do I wish you had traded your life for hers. If we do not have sorrow in our lives, how would we know what happiness truly feels like?”

"I am still not sure how I angered you...but, things can not carry on like this any longer. It has been a month now, Hallie. A month since her death and you have not so much as spoken a word to me." Harriet suddenly recoiled at his words, it was as if Charles had slapped her, she opened her mouth to retort but Charles’ beat her to the punch. "I expected more from my wife, Hattie...I expected someone who would comfort me as I comfort them, who would love me as I love them...I did not expect to be ignored, to be looked down upon by the woman I share my bed with. I have done nothing but love you since Lizzie died, Harriet...today, I almost stopped doing so. Today, I almost wished to cast you from my life...but, I came here instead." If his previous words had felt like a slap, then these felt like he was driving a sword through her body.

Harriet stared at him for a moment, her eyes wide filled with hurt and upset as her lip quivered, was he solely blaming her? Was that what he was doing? It felt like it. Releasing a quaking sob, she turned away from him reaching out to brace herself against the oak banister, β€œAs 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.” For the severity of what she had been saying, Harriet’s tone was unusually calm, she closed her eyes and lowered herself down upon a step, her hand keeping firm upon her stomach. From her position she looked at him, a few days ago she probably would have shouted or screamed but now she did not have the energy. β€œI’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!” Harriet sobbed, burying her head into her hands.

"Perhaps what I mean to say is will you come back to Briar with me? Will you resume your position as my wife? My queen? Will you continue to love me?...or has this chapter of our lives simply come to a close? For, if you do not love me anymore, I see no point in keeping you in my household..."

Looking up suddenly, Harriet looked at Charles through tearful eyes and utter disbelief, [color=#A4A4A4] β€œI never stopped loving you Charles, even if you were to send me to a nunnery, deem our children bastards, marry another, I would always love you.”
She shook her head; looking away she rested her head against the oak spindle, β€œyour words sound like threats...Are they?”

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Character Portrait: Charles Rayleigh Character Portrait: Harriet Rayleigh
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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.
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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.

β€œAs 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.

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Character Portrait: Henry Stanford Character Portrait: Mary Raleigh
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"Wolves and hill tribes are the least of your concerns....You mess with my family, you mess with me"


Regardless of the situation they faced, it was imperative that one remains strong, even in the most trying of times and especially in the face of adversity. When Francis died, it seemed that part of herself had died along with him, never forgetting that day when her beloved departed from the cruel fates of this world and left her behind. Recalling that day, there had been a part of her that wanted to be by her husband's side so they could remain together, but what kept Mary going was her love for her children, her flesh and blood, those who needed her regardless of age as she comforted Charles but it seemed that her words would not be enough.

Mary was indeed coping now, like Charles she rose above it, but Charles was right, losing his first born was much different than losing his father and she understood that completely, for it was why she cared for Charles so much and wished to help her son as much as she could. Afterall, there was only so many burdens that she could carry, but it was her breaking point that she feared the most. The only way her family can be safe, the only way Seabel can truly live in peace, is if House Lancaster no longer remained and she would fight for such as long as there are breath in her lungs.

Charles clearly was not of the right state of mind, but there was only so much that she could do as she prayed with him for Lizzie as she too departed from the cruel fates of this world as Francis did, leaving those behind to become stronger. There was not a day that went by that Mary did not think about Francis and what he would of done in her shoes, but now she had much to worry about as the minutes turned to hours, hours turned to days and days into weeks with Charles' descending back into his old ways with nothing that she could do. As she recalled his old ways, she did remember how his change begun when he married Harriet, so no doubt his descent into his old ways were no doubt as a result of Harriet's influence no longer present, which suggested that Charles was under such influence and yet Harriet was now leaving him to continue alone when her place was at his side 'for better for worse'.

Mary was not only concerned about Charles but also Kingdom Affairs also, working with her younger brother Karlon Knee in keeping track of any movement made by the Lancasters who may take advantage of this mourning period which Mary wouldn't put past them if they were so heartless and quick to kill her husband. It was due to Mary's increased involvement that led her to finding out about a confrontation Henry Stanford had with Charles and how Charles was now off to Pendlebury. The report displeased Mary greatly that she immediately made her way to confront Henry on his inappropriate and disrespectful behaviour that he shown against her son, his son-in-law. It was even more frustrating with how much he 'supposedly' supported his family and seeing the way he treated Charles as his son-in-law and most important his King was appalling.

Growing up as a young lady in the Knee Household, she was taught proper etiquette with how to address one self and how to conduct one self. Afterall, House Knee were from a royal line, but clearly the tainted line from House Stanford knew not how to conduct themselves properly when the Head of the family speaks against his King, his eldest offspring standing with the Lancaster's and Harriet making Charles' pain even greater by not supporting him and not yet producing a male heir. However, Mary was trying her best to dismiss such thoughts seeing that this arrangement was what Francis wanted and that Harriet was now a Rayleigh, she only hoped that things will get better, but Henry made things much harder.

The question however was how to approach it, whether to immediately begin with the scolding of his unbecoming conduct or start with an innocent facade and proceed from there, the latter being the option Mary took as she approached her target, "Lord Stanford". Following her introduction she gave a gesture of respect to essentially show Henry how to act, before adding, "How are things on your end?", curious what he felt about the situation between Charles and Harriet and also to see if he dared speak out against her. Unlike Charles however, she was of a sound mind and with Charles off to Pendlebury, it left her in charge of things in the capital so he better watch it.....

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Character Portrait: Eleanor Lancaster Character Portrait: James Lancaster Character Portrait: Annabelle Stanford
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The last time Annabelle had recalled to grisly and tedious journey to the Northern Kingdom, she had been a young girl of fifteen, a lady-in-waiting to the then Lancastrian Queen, Juliette of Guardi had been her name and Annabelle had always remembered the woman as a great beauty, her grace and poise had been spoken of across the lands, she had been a gentle soul also, kind and generous, Annabelle truly didn’t have a bad word against her. However life was remarkably unusual at times, when she had had married Henry but two years later, she had initially been surprised by his lack of love towards the royal family, especial the Prince and heir to the throne, Harold Lancaster. Whereas she had always seen the prince as a kind and polite young man, Henry seemed to see him as a venomous spider, a dangerous species that needed to be crushed, the change in attitudes was something that Annabelle had struggled with and even now, despite everything that had happened she could not bring herself to hate the Lancaster’s, not for the love of a Queen long since dead.

Thirty-Two years had passed since she had last travelled these roads and she could scarcely believe that fact, since then she had bore four child, held her grandchildren in her arms, lived through a rebellion and watched her daughter be crowned Queen. Looking back, Annabelle could hardly remember that young girl she use to be, but she could never have imagined that she would have lived such an eventful life, for anyone else it could have been too much to bear, but she was a Marcus and by god their resolve was tough. It was the only thing that was beating her exhaustion on this trip, that and the thought of seeing Eleanor and Jonathon after three years away from them, which gave her the most strength. It was a closely guarded secret that Annabelle’s health had been ailing in these past months, she was fatigued more often than not, even nauseous at times and she had begun to suffer from excruciating headaches. It had taken almost all of her resolve to keep it a secret from Harriet, yet she had been a little surprised that her inquisitive daughter hadn’t picked up on it, usually Harriet was the first to notice even the minute change in a person’s behaviour, though she had been going through many of her own problems recently, in hindsight it was not wonder she had missed them. Henry not picking up on them had not surprised her, her husband was so narrow minded at times it was a wonder to her how he had lasted this long in such a world, still, she supposed that was one of the reasons she loved him so deeply, despite the annoyance it caused her at times. A part of her wondered if Eleanor would notice, she truly hoped not, she couldn’t bear the thought of adding to any of her children’s problems.

Annabelle had never once wished to have time on her side once again, she had never been one of these women who wished and prayed for their younger years once again, no she had taken aging in her stride, she had been young once and now it was another’s turn, besides she enjoyed a mother and grandmother. However on this day she nearly wished it, wished for her strength back for every hour which past within the confides of the coach, her resolve broke just that little bit more as the fatigue set in, and the aching began in her bones. For a moment she almost thought it had been a bad idea to participate in the mad cross country trek, deep down she supposed a part of her was mad, but at the end of the day she was a mother and to get to one’s children, mothers would climb mountains or swim oceans.

Finally, the castle which had been the home of her eldest son and youngest daughter was in Annabelle’s sights and a joyous, if not tiresome smiled broached her lips, creating an almost tearful gleam in her eyes. She was excited but also a little apprehension about her arrival, she had only told Jonathon and only on the day she had left, sending the letter ahead by messenger to save him trying to do anything to stop her from coming, as he likely would have done. As planned the coach pulled up within the servant’s courtyard as too avoid suspicion, and luckily deserted courtyard. The carriage came to a sudden halt with a slight jolt and the door was pulled open quickly, immediately Annabelle was hit by a cold wind, of the likes she had never felt before and it chilled her to the bone. Pulling her cloak tightly around her body, she descended from the carriage, her eyes immediately meeting the figure of a tall man, it took her a moment to realise whom it was but once she did her bright smile returned, β€œJonathon!” she exclaimed perhaps a little too loudly, but her excitement was almost too much to contain, β€œOh my darling boy!”

β€œMother” Jonathon returned in an equally emotional tone, his long strides bringing him into his mother embrace in a matter of seconds, he could scarcely remember the last time he had embraced his mother and it surely was a wonderful feeling. Pulling back slightly, he pressed a loving kiss against her cheek before hugging her tightly again, β€œWhen I received your letter I almost sent a messenger back to stop you, I am so glad I didn’t now, it is so good to see you once again, we have missed you so much.”

Tears began to well in her eyes as Annabelle regarded her son, he hadn’t changed one bit, perhaps a little paler, but that had been expected from living in such a dismal country, where the sun seldom shone and the winds were never without the cooling nip. β€œOh my boy, my darling, you have no idea how good it is too see you. Tell me how is your sister? Does she know I am coming?” Jonathon froze for a moment, his expression morphing into one of concern, which in turn only worried Annabelle, β€œWhat? What is it? What happened?” She asked hastily, her blue eyes widening.

β€œS-she found out about Lizzie and-and…well, the physician is with her now” he paused shaking his head, β€œit doesn’t look good, mother.” Annabelle’s hand slowly covered her mouth as she portrayed her shock, no, this couldn’t be happening, not again, she couldn’t lose this baby, it surely would destroy her daughter and certainly not so soon after Lizzie, god would not be so cruel, would he? β€œTake me to her Jon…” she was cut off by the adamant shake of his head, β€œno, I cannot do that mother, James is in there and we do not know how he will react to you being here.” Annabelle’s jaw momentarily clenched, β€œJonathon Stanford, you take me to your sister this very instant or so help me god…” He did not speak another word, merely nodded along and lead her into the castle.





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All James could do was stare at his wife as waves of agony and sorrow washed over her pretty feature, no this couldn’t be happening, not again, they had been so close this time and now it seemed that they were set to face another tragedy. "You lied to me!...Why didn't you tell me Lizzie was dead?" She accused him almost venomously, a lump forming in this throat as her glanced down at her, shame etching across his features. Honestly, James had wanted to tell her of her young niece’s death the moment he had found out himself, but he had been so scared that something like, well exactly like this would happen that he had decided against it. β€œI-I am sorry my love, truly sorry.” He apologised quickly, although weary about what effect it would have on her, he highly doubted she would accept his apology, not that he could blame her, he had kept an important piece of information from her and he was aware Eleanor would see this as a betrayal. β€œEllie, please I did it to protect you, I am so sorry, my love.”

Eleanor did not speak for a moment, only stared at him with those steel eyes, almost narrowed in anger, that was until her saw her features twist in a sudden pain and a loud gasp escaped her lips. Seeing this, James’ own eyes widened in fear as he grip tightened on her hand. The moment she looked at him with those frightful eyes, his heart froze, knowing the words she was going to say before she had even uttered them. β€œIt’s the baby,” Ellie cried, β€œThere’s something wrong with the baby.”

Pure devastation was what James felt in that moment, although he knew those words were coming, nothing could have prepared him from the revelations from his wife’s own lips, those words were utterly damning and piercing like a dagger being plunged repeatedly into his heart, hell he would have preferred that to have happened rather than being in the position he was in now. Being unable to comfort his wife was a terrible feeling and suddenly James felt utterly inadequate at a husband, a failure almost. It was then did the physician enter, looking back he nodded at the older man before turning back to his wife and placed a loving kiss upon her brow as he wiped away the tears which had spilt down her cheek. β€œIt will be alright my love” he uttered breathlessly, as the physician asked him to take a step back so he could examine Eleanor and James did so reluctantly.

Taking a step back, he buried his head within his hands and released a quaking breath as he uttered a silent prayer, begging god to not take another child away from him, promising him anything and everything in return. Minutes past by whilst Eleanor was being examined, the physician asking her questions as her prodded and poked at his wife, James almost lost his temper with the man on numerous occasions, couldn’t he see that the Queen was in agony, of course something was wrong! How long must it take to be told what was wrong!? He was about to open his mouth to shout at the older man when the door opened again, this time Jonathon walked through the door with an older woman, whom at first he thought was a midwife, but she was too finely dressed for that, it took a few moment for him to fathom who the woman actually was, it was none other than Eleanor’s mother, Annabelle Stanford.

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Character Portrait: Charles Rayleigh Character Portrait: Harriet Rayleigh
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Harriet did not move or even flinch when Charles sat down next to her on the step, although still kept his distance, which for the moment she was thankful for, she may still love and want him but she was a little unsure how she would react should he pull her into his arms, like he had done countless times before. Actually, she did, for Harriet Rayleigh had never been a predictable woman, her temperament was often as changeable as the weather, her decision and actions surprised people on a daily basis, but if she were predictable in any aspect in her life, it would be when it came to her husband. She could have wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him as close to her body as was physically possible and wept into the crook of his neck, too long had she gone without his presence and now she simply craved it, Charles was her impulse.

β€œI don’t wish for them to be threats Hallie…” Hearing the moniker he often called her caused her heart to leap, it was a term of affection for him, some men called their lovers by β€˜sweetheart’ or β€˜darling’ but Charles always referred to her as β€˜Hallie’ or β€˜Hattie.’ Names which she had once hated with a passion, but now loved and craved, such was the power of their love. "I admit, I apologize for my rash behavior on...that day...but, I had asked you explicitly to leave the room, Hattie…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?"

A breath left her body in a resounding sigh; he wasn’t being selfish, she had been the selfish one wanting to add to his grief by threatening her own life and something which she was ashamed about now. Harriet should have followed his warning and left, but that did not mean she regretted her decision to stay, if anything she was glad she got to spend those final hours with Lizzie, no matter how painful they had been. Tilting her head slightly, Harriet turned to look at her husband, her eyes heavy and apologetic, β€œNo, I should be the one to apologise…”[color] Harriet whispered, [color=#A4A4A4] β€œI know you only wanted our safety, I put myself at risk, worst of all I put our baby to risk. But I just couldn’t leave her Charles, she was my baby also.” Her hand came to her mouth as she suppressed a quick sob before doing what she could to regain herself.

ImageWith her thumb Harriet gently wiped away the tears which had escaped down her cheeks, not noticing Charles’ shift towards her, it was only when she looked back up did she notice how near he was. "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." His words made her smile, genuinely smile, brightly too, it was relieving to hear such words come from his lips, especially when she thought their chances of a happy life together had long disappeared. They gave her hope, hope for a future, hop to rebuild their life together, β€œalbeit stubborn ones,” Harriet surprisingly laughed as she lowered her gaze down into her lap.

ImageCharles moved swiftly, so that when Harriet looked up he was before her kneeling, his eyes boring straight into her own and as usual Harriet was transfixed in his gaze. "I do not know if things are going to be the same for us, Harriet...given how this month has passed...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..." Her breath caught in her throat as she hung on his every word, she couldn’t help but agree mentally, she would do exactly the same, she just prayed he knew this for he had truly struck her speechless. His next move stunned her further, reaching out he gently place his hand along the line of his jaw, the mere touch sending sensations through her body, she had truly missed his touch, but only now did she realise how much. For a moment Harriet did not respond to the kiss, but once the momentary shock subsided her arms moved around the back of his neck as she moved to deepen the kiss, their lips moved skilfully in the increasingly sensual kiss.

It was euphoric, utterly intoxicating, then again he had always had that effect on her, every stoke of his tongue only stoked the fire burning in the pit of her stomach, pulling back slightly, she smiled affectionately running a hand gently down the side of his face before resting her forehead against his. β€œI love you so much Charles” she uttered almost breathlessly, before looking up into his eyes, β€œCome to bed? I have missed you so much.”

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Character Portrait: Henry Stanford Character Portrait: Mary Raleigh
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In the pique of his life, Henry Stanford had always been a vivacious man. His passion and his courage was hardly rivaled and his gung-ho ways were unmatched by the men who surrounded him. But, now Lord Stanford had lost his will, his spirit. The loss of two of his children had certainly changed the man. Gone now were his youthful ways, hid broad grin. They had been replaced with a vacant sort of stare, a blank slate of a face that failed to capture the pain he felt behind it.

His confrontation of the young king had silenced the throne room in an eerie manner that had, surprisingly, hardly phased his father-in-law. Henry Stanford knew what he had done, what he had said, had all been just. Charles had been slandering his flesh and blood and, if there was one thing to note about Henry, it was that he took such words to heart. Already he had had two disgraces in the family. He did not need the king declaring his wife another one, especially so soon after they'd lost Lizzie. The death had seemed to pass uneventfully over Henry. This was, however, certainly not the case. The robust man, though powerful in physical appearance, had wept too for the loss of his first grandchild. But, his grieving did not last as long as the others. Perhaps it was because he was already numb to the pains of loss. Either way, he had missed his granddaughter greatly, but that did not shed any light on Charles's use of "bitch" and "whore" to describe Harriet. His Harriet, his little girl...Henry had managed to keep his anger at a minimum. In fact, he hardly ever got fired up over anything nowadays. He was much more docile, though certainly not submissive.
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As Charles rode away, murmuring had begun at a dull roar in the throne room as the gathered men slowly dispersed, all shooting glances at Lord Stanford. Surely, their king would do something about the man, said some of the whispers. Henry had by then however, tuned out the comments and had moved into the hallway.

Without his wife or his daughter or the court assembled, he truly didn't have anything to occupy himself. Therefore, he took to aimlessly wandering the long hallways while he let his mind wander. Not once, in those hours between the departure of Charles and the present, did his mind slow at least once. Instead, it raced wildly, thinking of, well, everything. In fact, his mind was still racing when Mary Rayleigh approached him. Perhaps he would not have noticed her if she hadn't gestured respectfully toward him and caused him to blink quickly.

"How are thing on your end?" he managed to catch as he he turned his attention to her.

"Duchess Rayleigh," he returned, bowing down at the waist before her. "Forgive me, I hadn't heard you approach me..." He had never been a fan of the woman. In fact, his dislike for her ran strong and deep. Yet, he knew the woman would not approve of him using a tone with her or speaking disrespectfully toward her. Mary Rayleigh, unfortunately, possessed a higher rank than him. Words could not even begin to describe the annoyance this created for Henry. And yet, even though he should not have spoken out in front of her, he still felt the need to instigate her. "I do hope His Majesty was not too upset before he left. You understand, don't you? Protecting ones family from harm, both physical and verbal, is a priority, no?" He had clapsed his hands neatly before himself, head tilted slightly to prompt her as he waited for a response.

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Character Portrait: Charles Rayleigh Character Portrait: Harriet Rayleigh
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"Albeit stubborn ones," she had murmured before the kiss. As Charles moved in to kiss her, all sense of regret of common sense, for that matter, seemed to dissipate. Instead, these emotions had been replaced with a man's desire to hold his wife close in his arms, to shield her from the world as she comforted him in his darkest times. There were bound to be darker times for the king and his queen, but to think of such things was cynical and Charles was never the brooding type. Instead, he locked lips with his wife as his lifted her jaw subtly to look up at him.
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The kiss was a passionate one, of course. Both he and his wife had been starved of such attention for a month now. Her usually occupied place in his bed was now chill and empty. For weeks now, he had longed to feel her touch, to feel her flesh. And, of course, he had especially missed their time alone in his chambers, their bodies moving as one beneath the sheets. Not until now had he truly realized the extent of his yearning for her. Without his queen, the king was lost. Henry had managed to prove that earlier.

Charles's other hand snaked behind her back, holding her close to his lean form as he kissed her ravenously. His perch on the stairs was an awkward one, but that thought seemed to have slipped his mind as Harriet wrapped her arms around his neck. The lack of actual communication before the kiss was surprising, as if the two had simply thought together and acted upon this thought. For, now they were in a full-on kiss of unspoken passion that simply could not be expressed in words alone. Reluctantly, their lips parted and Charles gave a faux frown, his eyes glinting mischievously.

"I love you so much, Charles," she whispered, her light blue hues meeting his stormy gray ones.

"As do I, Hattie..." he cooed, smiling subtly in a genuine manner now. The left corner of his mouth had turned upward slightly in a little grin that seemed mournful at first. Their time apart had pained him mentally, but he had seemed to forget this entirely. Now, his focus was on his wife and rekindling the flames that had died out after Lizzie's death. Well, that, and preparing for whenever his heir would be born. "Your stubborn shoes would be hard to fill...I believe only you have the ability to do so." He lifted his head slightly and pressed a kiss to her forehead, lips turning upward in a twitchy way as he smiled against the skin.

"Come to bed? I have missed you so much." Before she'd even finished speaking, Charles was nodding quickly, eagerly.

"I would love nothing more than that, Hallie," murmured Charles. He stood slowly with one hand gripping the banister as he held a hand out to help Harriet on to her feet. The king would have eagerly raced back to the room alongside his wife but she was pregnant and so he reluctantly forced himself into a brisk walk beside her, holding her hand firmly in his own as if letting go of it would cause her to leave him again. The walk was much too long for his liking, even though it hadn't taken more than a few minutes if anything.

By now, Charles's eyelids should have been fluttering with sleep, but he found himself wide awake as if on a high from the kiss they had just shared on the staircase. Much like a man who has tasted alcohol for the first time after a period of repose, he was already intoxicated by Harriet all over again. To him, it was much like their wedding night again when they had consummated their adoration in a passionate manner.

As Harriet sat on the bed, preparing to pull the bed covers over herself, Charles removed his traveling attire and then his trousers and doublet before joining her on the bed. Instinctively, as Charles laid down, he pulled Harriet closely and held her against himself again, one hand slowly running through her long blonde hair as he had when she'd been ill weeks and weeks before.

"I love you..." he purred, his breath brushing past her ear in a soft whispery manner. "I promise you that I will never, never leave your side again, my love. Once our son is born, we will not have to worry as much." His voice trailed off slowly and his brow furrowed temporarily. Their child had to be a boy. He needed an heir desperately. What would he do without one...? But, he would not allow himself to think of such things when he was in a jovial mood. Gingerly, he peppered kisses along Harriet's neck and along her jaw, his lips moving into a smile as his lips glided along her skin and his hands traced the curves of her body. Beside her, it would be much easier for him to fall asleep and, for the first time since he'd lost his first daughter, the king would sleep soundly through the night with his queen right beside him.

Setting

3 Characters Present

Character Portrait: Eleanor Lancaster Character Portrait: James Lancaster Character Portrait: Annabelle Stanford
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Eleanor saw her own terror and distress mirrored back at her in her husband's lovely eyes. Instantly, she almost regretted her words. Because now, the false promise she'd seen portrayed in James' eyes for her sake had vanished and was replaced by a fear that she did not often see in her powerful, resolute husband. She had almost been expecting him to tell her not to be foolish and she was perfectly fine. But he did not. He simply looked at her with an utter loss and no words of reassurance. And truthfully, that frightened her more than the agony she was in.

Eleanor watched her husband turn his head towards the door and nod to the physician who had emerged through it. Then, he leant down to Eleanor and pressed a kiss to her pallid forehead. His thumb caressed her cheek, brushing away her tears, before he promised her, "It will be alright, my love."

The physician was at her side then, asking James to stand back. Then he turned to her. "Lie back please, Your Majesty," he requested. A maid assisted her so she was flat on her back. Her hands lay either side of her, clasping the sheet she lay on, nails raking the fabric as she tried to resist the urge to scream. The result of which was pitiful little gasping sobs that made her feel dizzy. Her head was stretched back and her eyes fixed on the patterned ceiling above. Then, she felt hands on her midsection. They pressed firmly into her tender, swollen stomach, ignoring her cries of pain as he probed where she'd fallen heavily onto the floor.

"Have you felt the child move since you fell?" he questioned her, lifting her dress up to her thighs.

Eleanor shook her head, more tears falling from her eyes. "Is he dead?" she asked fearfully, her orbs wide with terror and swimming with not yet spilt tears. The physician did not answer, instead continuing to inspect her. "Am I bleeding?" she questioned desperately. Last time, she had thought her baby was fine, if a little early, until she had begun to bleed. The blood had been a sign of his death sentence. She still prayed this time, despite her terrible pain, that if there was no blood, he could still survive.

Finally, to this question, the physician replied. "No, that you are not," he informed her. But Eleanor had barely a moment to enjoy the news when more pain, crushing her stomach like a steel vice, took over. It crashed over her in a wave, dragging a scream from her lips once more. She turned to look at her husband, trying to call for him. But she could form no words through her pain. She was so very frightened, and so alone. She wanted him at her side, to hold her hand and kiss her gently. She wanted her mother and her sister. And it was at that very moment that the door opened.

"Mama," the words escaped Eleanor's lips in no more than a murmur, her mother's name from her earliest days resurfacing unconsciously. She recognised her mother instantly. She was just as Eleanor remembered her, save for a few more lines in her still beautiful visage and a slightly more drawn look to her features. Beside her mother was Jonathon. Eleanor was about to say her name again, but caught herself. It was not her mother. Her mother was in the South with her sister. It was impossible for her to be here now. God, she truly had gone mad. The pain must be causing hallucinations, as she had heard was possible. Of course it was perfectly logical. She had wished desperately to see her mother, and now her mind was creating her what she wanted to see, to offer her solace.

Then, Eleanor realised that James was also looking at her mother, with pure shock on his face. Eleanor knew her husband, and she knew simply the appearance of Jon was not enough to elicit that kind of response. James was no weak man. His shock was reserved for only the truly impossible.

"Mother?" Eleanor said, her voice still trembled with fear and shuddered with pain, but it was stronger this time, louder. "Oh my God, mother..." Her mind was so full of the pure joy of seeing her mother that she didn't allow it to linger on the ramifications of her being here, nor James' reaction, nor question how she came to be here.

A short while later, Eleanor saw the physician leave her side and approach her husband. "Your Majesty," he addressed him, "I'm afraid I do not know what is the matter with the Queen. I can only guess that she has sustained some form of internal injury from the fall that's causing her the extreme pain. I do not know if the baby is still alive," he paused for a breath. "The Queen is in labour, though. I would recommend we deliver the child as quickly as possible, if we wish to have the best chances of saving either of their lives."

Setting

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Character Portrait: Charles Rayleigh Character Portrait: Harriet Rayleigh
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Arguments with Charles had been plentiful over the years of their marriage, one managed to annoy the other weekly, sometimes even daily, however usually for Harriet, all the anger felt towards her husband could be swept away with one glance into his eyes, or one sweet kiss. Like her children, he was almost impossible to stay mad at; however severe arguments, one with such malice and stubbornness, such as the one after Lizzie’s death were extremely rare for the King and Queen, if not none existent. They were united in everything until death do them part, yet even then Harriet was certain they would find each other once again, for there was no Harriet Rayleigh without Charles or vice versa, even a fool could have told you that and so when reconciliation had not come after a few days, not only had the kingdom began to worry, but also Harriet herself. The days had dragged into weeks and weeks into a month, it had been the longest time they had spent apart, asides from when Charles had been away at war during his campaign, they had been so close to one another in those days after Lizzie’s death and yet so far away at the same time.

ImageHowever, now, caught up in the passion of this kiss it was easy to forget the events which had transpired earlier…truth be known, Harriet had a tendency of forgetting the world when snared in one of her husband’s kisses. Gone was the nagging despair in the pit of stomach, instead it had been replaced by burning desire to be as close to her husband as was feasibly possible, after all they were at their strongest when untied and Harriet was beginning to realise just how true that was.

Hearing Charles once again call her Hattie, brought an insatiable warmth to rise within her, names as such had always been terms of endearment for the couple, and to go without them was almost worse than the physical absent, for pleasure could be felt without love, but with it was even more euphoric. Harriet could have never of imagined laying with Charles had she not loved him, the thought was an intolerable one for her and she pitied those who did have loveless marriages for she knew they were plenty. It would seem that would no longer play heavily on her mind, Charles was here, right now, in her arms, holding her protectively and Harriet had never felt more at home. "Your stubborn shoes would be hard to fill...I believe only you have the ability to do so." Charles spoke tenderly as he pressed his lips against her forehead. Harriet’s smile turned into a quick smirk at Charles’ eagerness to follow her to bed, it had almost been reminiscent of their wedding night. He had been incredibly eager that night also, so youthful and energetic, it was almost difficult to recall their younger selves at times, so much had come to pass in the time In between that it was almost foolish to look back. Still, Harriet liked to reminisce from time to time and looking at Charles now, it was clear he was thinking about the same event and that only deepened her smirk. She would be lying if she said she didn’t feel some gratification in having a husband whom still craved her.

Charles helped her to her feet, taking his place beside her as they walked back towards her rooms. The briskness in his strides caused a ripple of laughter to fall from the Queen’s lips upon numerous occasions, had she not been pregnant Harriet could have been certain that Charles wouldn’t have shown such constraints, hell, she wouldn’t have been surprised if she found herself pushed up against one of the walls, that had not been uncommon in their marriage either.

Once they had reached the room, Harriet had climbed into bed whilst Charles briskly shed of his clothing, before climbing in beside her. It wasn’t long before she found herself nestled snugly in his arms; it was almost like they had never been parted. "I love you..." Charles whispered, his hot breath prickling the skin beneath her ear, causing Harriet to bite her lip in anticipation and excitement. "I promise you that I will never, never leave your side again, my love. Once our son is born, we will not have to worry as much."

Perhaps not long ago, his words about a son would have caused Harriet to flinch, even worry, but now they had been through so much and survive, albeit barely, but they had survived none the less and she had faith that god would not forsake them this time, no, he wouldn’t be that cruel. β€œEven when I’m grey and old?” Harriet laughed lightly as she brought her hand up to rest it gently across his cheek. β€œbut neither will I, we will have a son and then another and another and then a daughter. I always said I wanted a large family.” Harriet giggled once again, pressing her lips against Charles as her hand travelled across his bare chest, β€œwe will have the largest, most powerful family in this entire land.” She spoke proudly with a happy smile on her face; perhaps largest was slightly exaggerated; however most powerful, was not, her unborn son would be a King one day, her daughter’s princesses and maybe even Queen’s of different lands. The Rayleigh’s had conquered once and not even a Lancaster could take that away from them

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Character Portrait: Margaret Rayleigh
8 sightings Margaret Rayleigh played by Kura Ravengade
"Fighting is a foolish and futile thing that will only end in heartache for all of those involved. Why not settle our differences with words instead of the silent blade of death?" {WIP}
Character Portrait: Edwin Lancaster
7 sightings Edwin Lancaster played by Scarlet Loup
"If we truly detach from our childhood and abandon our inherent romanticism, then we shred any bit of humanity left in us."

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View All » Add Character » 9 Characters to follow in this universe

Character Portrait: Harriet Rayleigh
Character Portrait: Charles Rayleigh
Character Portrait: Eleanor Lancaster
Character Portrait: James Lancaster
Character Portrait: Annabelle Stanford
Character Portrait: Mary Raleigh
Character Portrait: Henry Stanford

Newest

Character Portrait: Henry Stanford
Henry Stanford

"Emotionless people are not emotionless from the beginning...they are just disappointed and hurt very strongly by the ones they love."

Character Portrait: Mary Raleigh
Mary Raleigh

"No one, absolutely no one, messes with my family!"

Character Portrait: Annabelle Stanford
Annabelle Stanford

"Words have weight, something once said cannot be unsaid. Meaning is like a stone dropped into a pool; the ripples will spread and you cannot know what back they wash against."

Character Portrait: James Lancaster
James Lancaster

"What days of strain, what nights of stress Can cark a throne, Even one maintained in peacefulness, I too have known. "

Character Portrait: Eleanor Lancaster
Eleanor Lancaster

"Divided we fall..."

Character Portrait: Charles Rayleigh
Charles Rayleigh

"When you begin a journey of revenge, start by digging two graves: one for your enemy, and one for yourself."

Character Portrait: Harriet Rayleigh
Harriet Rayleigh

"Through loyalty to the past, our mind refuses to realize that tomorrow's joy is possible only if today's makes way for it; that each wave owes the beauty of its line only to the withdrawal of the preceding one."

Trending

Character Portrait: Annabelle Stanford
Annabelle Stanford

"Words have weight, something once said cannot be unsaid. Meaning is like a stone dropped into a pool; the ripples will spread and you cannot know what back they wash against."

Character Portrait: Henry Stanford
Henry Stanford

"Emotionless people are not emotionless from the beginning...they are just disappointed and hurt very strongly by the ones they love."

Character Portrait: Harriet Rayleigh
Harriet Rayleigh

"Through loyalty to the past, our mind refuses to realize that tomorrow's joy is possible only if today's makes way for it; that each wave owes the beauty of its line only to the withdrawal of the preceding one."

Character Portrait: Mary Raleigh
Mary Raleigh

"No one, absolutely no one, messes with my family!"

Character Portrait: Eleanor Lancaster
Eleanor Lancaster

"Divided we fall..."

Character Portrait: Charles Rayleigh
Charles Rayleigh

"When you begin a journey of revenge, start by digging two graves: one for your enemy, and one for yourself."

Character Portrait: James Lancaster
James Lancaster

"What days of strain, what nights of stress Can cark a throne, Even one maintained in peacefulness, I too have known. "

Most Followed

Character Portrait: Henry Stanford
Henry Stanford

"Emotionless people are not emotionless from the beginning...they are just disappointed and hurt very strongly by the ones they love."

Character Portrait: Eleanor Lancaster
Eleanor Lancaster

"Divided we fall..."

Character Portrait: Annabelle Stanford
Annabelle Stanford

"Words have weight, something once said cannot be unsaid. Meaning is like a stone dropped into a pool; the ripples will spread and you cannot know what back they wash against."

Character Portrait: Charles Rayleigh
Charles Rayleigh

"When you begin a journey of revenge, start by digging two graves: one for your enemy, and one for yourself."

Character Portrait: Harriet Rayleigh
Harriet Rayleigh

"Through loyalty to the past, our mind refuses to realize that tomorrow's joy is possible only if today's makes way for it; that each wave owes the beauty of its line only to the withdrawal of the preceding one."

Character Portrait: Mary Raleigh
Mary Raleigh

"No one, absolutely no one, messes with my family!"

Character Portrait: James Lancaster
James Lancaster

"What days of strain, what nights of stress Can cark a throne, Even one maintained in peacefulness, I too have known. "


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