Description

“An eye for an eye will only make the whole world blind.”
~ Mahatma Gandhi

Role: The King of Seabel

Gender: Male

Age: Twenty-seven

Nicknames: Though he goes by Charles in most places, he'll occasionally let his family or close friends refer to him by his childhood nickname Charlie.

House: House Rayleigh

Height: Charles inherited a very tall height of six feet, three inches from his deceased father who was also quite tall in stature.

Build: Weighing only a hundred and sixty-eight pounds, Charles has a lean, lanky build.

Hair Colour: Charles's hair is a dark, reddish-brown which could also be described as a russet.

Eye Colour: His eyes are a stormy gray with a bluish tinge to them.

Scars?: There are a multitude of scars along Charles's arms and legs from training exercises in years past. Recently, though, he's become so skilled with a blade that his opponent hardly has time to attempt cutting him before he retaliates. His most noticeable scar cuts his upper lip on the right side about an inch. He received this one from King Harold before killing the man in battle. A few longer scars can also be found along his abdomen from fights where he lacked proper armor.

Brief Written Description: If there is one thing that truly declares Charles as his father's son, it is his height. Both men are (or were) six feet, three inches that allowed them to tower over basically everyone else. Charles has a lean, skinny build. In fact, as a young boy, he actually looked sickly. By the time he was sixteen, though, he'd begun to fill out in an attractive manner, building a layer of lean muscle. His hair is thick and wavy with a dark russet color. His eye color was also inherited from his father and, more or less, his sharp features also resemble the man very well. He keeps a light goatee and mustache, though keeps the rest of his face well-trimmed, never letting a stubble begin. Charles is known for only wearing dressy clothing during meetings or large events when social etiquette requires it. When wandering the castle, his usual outfits consist of leather: light, comfortable, and flexible. The colors are anything in the dark red or dark purple family along with blacks, grays or browns. In general, he prefers darker, rich tones.

Skills:

It is agreed by many that Sir Charles Rayleigh is one of the greatest tacticians of his time. He sat on his father's council before his father's death and has been able to successfully plan raids and naval battles. He led his army successfully at the Battle of Mountain's Pass, gaining a victory for them.
Charles was born with a natural charisma that allows him to speak in a fashion that seems extremely elegant and mature for a man of his age.
Though he isn't the best horseman, Charles is able to ride horses very well, bringing them into gallops and even jumping them when need be. He enjoys hunting with his favorite horse, a white mare named Serenity.
Like the majority of his family, he is bilingual, able to speak and write quite a few other languages.
Finally, Charles can fight very well with a sword and a crossbow, although he prefers the former and works better with it too.

Quirks:

Charles is a very active man who, when still for a long time, begins to fidget or move slightly in place.
He'll press his palms together and hold his hands in a sort of praying position in front of his mouth when in deep thought.
Charles is an extremely protective man, especially of his wife and daughters.
When planning or thinking deeply, he prefers to be left alone to his own devices. Should he be disturbed, he'll become extremely irate quickly.

Likes:

Horseback riding
Sword-fighting
Reading
Politics
His immediate family
Harriet, his wife
Having something to occupy himself, which can range from sports to reading to sex. A busy Charles is a happy Charles
Hunting
Intelligence
Being on the throne
Planning a battle
Outmatching an opponent through strength or intelligence. He enjoys having the upper hand.

Dislikes:

Subjugation
Rashness
Ignorance
The Lancasters
Arrogance; despite the fact that he shows this trait himself at times
Boasting; another thing he is guilty of
Cold weather
Snow
Lies

Fears:

Death through anything but battle. He believes to die by disease isn't honorable
Losing a loved one
Being unable to make his deceased father proud
His wife being unable to bear him a son
Losing the throne
Making a poor choice in battle

Written Description:Once an immature, young lad in his father's court, Charles's marriage drastically changed him. At one point in time, he was a brash, ignorant man who pleasured himself with spirits and women whenever he felt like it. After wedding Harriet, he quickly changed almost overnight into the man he is now-- well respected and intelligent. He's one of the land's greatest tacticians and a very bright young soul who shows great potential. While his father was reluctant for the war between the Lancasters, Charles viewed it as an opportunity to test his tactical skills for real instead of behind the scenes at a meeting with a bunch of old men past their prime. Charles can be a bit hypocritical, judging those who are brash and bold like him in a negative manner. His wife and he share a true, strong love for each other, though that certainly doesn't stop him from eying a passing serving girl once and a while. The birth of both of his daughters also managed to make him more responsible. Even though he isn't outright upset about it around Harriet, he does wait impatiently for a son to take the throne after him, should he die in battle.

His responsibility on the throne and the amount of effort he has to put into his decisions has made him a bit more tired and weary. This is, also, partially due to him still trying to get over the idea of his father really being dead and gone. Charles finds great joy in his family, spending as much time as he can with them. The young man may have seemed to mature greatly, yet he is still quite naïve and restless. Then again, Charles is still only a ripe twenty-seven with plenty of time to improve. He'll tease Harriet occasionally in a playful manner, never meaning to upset her. Regardless, it is nearly impossible to stay mad at him when he gives a pitiful, regretful face that, more or less, resembles a bit of a puppy-face. Should someone else upset his wife or any of his family, he is quick to turn defensive and protect them with his own life. More or less, Charles has his priorities straight in life. He is just stuck in a blissful state that is beginning to shroud him from the truths. His father was his biggest role-model and he has adopted many of his ways. The young man's idea of "an eye for eye", which he showed by killing King Harold, just goes to show how far he's willing to go when his family is threatened. His restlessness, sense of revenge, and brashness could prove to backfire eventually.

Family:
Father || Francis Rayleigh
Mother || Mary Rayleigh
Elder Sister || Charlotte Fitzroy
Brother-in-Law || William Fitzroy
Younger Brother || Jasper Rayleigh
Younger Sister || Margaret Rayleigh

Father-in-Law || Henry Stanford
Mother-in-Law || Annabelle Stanford
Brother-in-Law || George Stanford
Sister-in-Law || Eleanor Lancaster (nee Stanford)
Wife || Harriet Rayleigh (nee Stanford)
Daughter || Elizabeth "Lizzie" Rayleigh
Daughter || Cecily Rayleigh

Theme Song :
King & Lionheart || Of Monsters and Men
Taking over this town, they should worry,
But these problem aside I think I taught you well.
That we won't run, and we won't run, and we won't run.

And in the winter night sky ships are sailing,
Looking down on these bright blue city lights.
And they won't wait, and they won't wait, and they won't wait.
We're here to stay, we're here to stay, we're here to stay.

Howling ghost they reappear
In mountains that are stacked with fear
But you're a king and I'm a lion-heart.
A lion-heart.

His crown lid up the way as we moved slowly
Pass the wondering eyes of the ones that were left behind.
Though far away, though far away, though far away
We're still the same, we're still the same, we're still the same.

Howling ghost they reappear
In mountains that are stacked with fear
But you're a king and I'm a lion-heart.
And in the sea that's painted black,
Creatures lurk below the deck
But you're a king and I'm a lion-heart.
And as the world comes to an end
I'll be here to hold your hand
'Cause you're my king and I'm your lion-heart.
A lion-heart, a lion-heart, a lion-heart, a lion-heart
A lion-heart, a lion-heart, a lion-heart, a lion-heart

Howling ghost they reappear
In mountains that are stacked with fear
But you're a king and I'm a lion-heart.
And in the sea that's painted black,
Creatures lurk below the deck
But you're a king and I'm a lion-heart.
A lion-heart, a lion-heart, a lion-heart, a lion-heart
A lion-heart, a lion-heart, a lion-heart, a lion-heart

So begins...

Charles Rayleigh's Story

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Setting

Seabel

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#2013-09-17 01:43:21, as written by Calvazara

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.

As 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.

“Your 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. “Pierrepont” she called out, stopping the man in his tracks. “Your grace, how can I be of service?” Outstretching her hand, Harriet handed him the letter, [color=A4A4A4]“Please 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, “Are you all ready my love?” she asked placing a kiss upon the girls flaxen locks. Cecily nodded eagerly, “Will 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, “Not 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, “she 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, “I must say, it does feel good to be home.”

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. “I 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, “Thank 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, “My 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, “I just miss her so much, mother, she was my baby and I-I just feel incomplete without her.”

“That 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. “Can 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, “Truly! It was that long ago?” Harriet nodded with a small laugh, “Truly, 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. “she 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, “She 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. “Is 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.

“By 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, “It is worrying.” she admitted truthfully. “You’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, “No, 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. “Good, I’m glad you told him before another did.”

They fell into a silence for a little while, both of their eyes transfixed upon the dancing flames, “Mother I want to write to Eleanor and Jonathan,” Harriet stated suddenly, he gaze moving to meet her mother’s once again shocked façade, “and 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? “Oh Harriet you must not tease me with such things.”

“It 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, “Why?” Harriet merely sighed at the breathy question, “because 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, “But what about you? I cannot leave you alone with your grief.”

“It 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, “Thank you my love, thank you so much.”

Setting

Seabel

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#2013-09-18 04:06:12, as written by Scarlet Loup

"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.

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."

"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.

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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#2013-09-24 01:24:03, as written by Calvazara

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.

Many 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.

“Mother, 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, “hmm, how are you my darling?”

“Good 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. “Where did you find her darling?” she enquired, “in 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. “Oh very well, what shall you name her?” Cecily paused for a moment, her little mind contemplating the different options, “Kitty!” 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, “It 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.

With 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, “Lady Poole, what is it? Is it Cecily?” Harriet asked her voice hoarse for a moment as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes. “No My lady, it is his majesty! He is downstairs calling for you!”

“C-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. “Bring 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, “No! Stop!” She paused throwing bed her bed covers with haste, “I 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. “Charles” she began her voice barely more than a whisper, “why are you here?” Harriet asked almost frightful of the answer.

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#2013-09-27 05:09:32, as written by Scarlet Loup

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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#2013-10-05 00:59:12, as written by Calvazara

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.

Those 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. “Charles…” 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, “I 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, “As I expected more from my husband. Do you not think I didn’t hear the names you called me? A bitch, a whore, you cursed my name Charles and you did it in public also.” 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. “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!” 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] “I 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, “your words sound like threats...Are they?”

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#2013-10-08 04:06:50, as written by Scarlet Loup

He was surprised by Harriet's tearful reaction to his appearance. Were they tears of joy or tears of sorrow? His first reaction made him want to step forward and hold her close, wipe the tears from her eyes and tell her it was alright. But, now as he thought it over, perhaps such a thing would be foolish. They were married still, but their relationship was certainly not what it had been before the loss of Lizzie. Instead, he stood before her with a desperate, pleading expression on his face as if to tell her he would have held her if he could have.

That brief smile that passed on her countenance was enough to make his heart temporarily soar. When had she last smiled like that in response to him? It had to have been at least a month, given the time since they'd last spoken. But, even a week had seemed to pass like an eon lately. This smile, however, faded soon after. This did not surprise him, however, for he knew something as simple yet cheerful as a smile could not last very long nowadays. The hitch in her breath caused him to wince, flinching subtly as he looked aside.

"I am sorry, Harriet..." he mumbled before slowly turning his gaze back to her. But, she had placed her hand over her stomach and looked away from him, which managed only to concern him further. "...Harriet?"

"I don't want to forget. Nor do I wish you had traded your life for hers. It we do not have sorrow i our lives, how would we know what happiness truly feels like?" He watched with a pained expression

"No one wishes to forget..." he finally whispered after a bout of silence. "But we can not let this grief consume us, can we?" A sad laugh escaped from his lips, mimicking a gentle sob. "Oh, I still do wish it had been me instead of her...I am sorry, Harriet, but it is only the truth." He knew this selfish reply would anger her, though he hoped she wouldn't dwell on it now. "I'd rather live in bliss, though...I'd rather be concerned about what to wear hunting instead of what to wear to my daughter's funeral." It was a somber statement and he regretted it instantly, flinching again as if ready for Harriet to cry out. "I'm sorry..." But, his words were drowned out by the sound of a sob as his wife braced herself suddenly on the banister, her gaze filled with hurt as she looked to him.

“As I expected more from my husband. Do you not think I didn’t hear the names you called me? A bitch, a whore, you cursed my name Charles and you did it in public also." Harriet's chiding washed over him, causing Charles to look down at the steps below him as she slowly sat on one of the steps before him, her hand still protectively over their unborn child. "I'll admit I shouldn’t have shut myself away as I did and I am truly sorry for that, but you cannot blame this solely on me, you just can’t!” She let out a sob, a high-pitched cry that caused his stomach to churn. He was a horrible husband, a horrible father, a horrible king. How could he have done such a thing to his wife? She had been suffering just as much as him and he had ignored her just as much as she had him, hadn't he?! His next words must have been too harsh, for she suddenly looked up at him incredulously.

"I never stopped loving you, Charles; even if you were to send me to a nunnery, deem our children bastard, marry another, I would always love you...your words sound like threats...are they?" She had looked away from him then, head leaning against the railing. Again, Charles felt his stomach churn and he felt sick with himself. She had been right, in all honesty. He'd been horrible the day Lizzie died, absolutely horrible. For what seemed like ages, Charles merely stood on the steps, looking down at Harriet first with pity, then with regret. His own gray eyes watered slightly against all odds, as he too had thought they'd been drained of tears days and days before.

"I don't wish for them to be threats, Hallie..." he began, slowly lowering himself on the step beside her and pulling one knee toward his chest as he looked over at his wife. "I admit, I apologize for my rash behavior on...that day...but, I had asked you explicitly to leave the room, Hattie." He sighed, shaking his head. "And perhaps I was being selfish, but I simply didn't want you to die. I didn't want the baby to die, either...surely you must understand, Harriet. Right?"

Slowly, he moved closer to her while still sitting on the step, hoping she wouldn't move away from him. "I do not believe I could ever love another as I love you either. You were beside me as I claimed the throne for the Rayleighs, you were there when Father died...no, I do not believe another woman could take that place. You've certainly created large shoes to fill, my love." Slowly, he looked over at her, sitting in silence again. Finally, the silence absolutely killing him, he slid off of the step beside Harriet and lowered him a few steps down before turning so that he was directly before Harriet.

"I do not know if things are going to be the same for us, Harriet...given how this month has passed..." His words caught in his throat, unable to imagine such a life. "But, know that I would go to the ends of the world, fight the Lancastrian army hundreds of times, just to make things go back to the way they were before Lizzie died..."

He was not sure if it was the alcohol causing him to do so or simply his own stupid instinct, but Charles slowly reached out and, placing a hand under Harriet's jaw, turned her face so she was looking straight at him. With his hand still cupping her chin, Charles instinctively leaned forward in a quick motion, pressing his lips to hers before she could tell him not to.

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#2013-10-11 02:27:20, as written by Calvazara

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.

“I 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 ‘sweetheart’ or ‘darling’ but Charles always referred to her as ‘Hallie’ or ‘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, “No, I should be the one to apologise…”[color] Harriet whispered, [color=#A4A4A4] “I 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.

With 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, “albeit stubborn ones,” Harriet surprisingly laughed as she lowered her gaze down into her lap.

Charles 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. “I love you so much Charles” she uttered almost breathlessly, before looking up into his eyes, “Come to bed? I have missed you so much.”

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#2013-10-16 05:22:27, as written by Scarlet Loup

"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.

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.

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#2013-10-29 23:07:24, as written by Calvazara

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.

However, 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. “Even when I’m grey and old?” Harriet laughed lightly as she brought her hand up to rest it gently across his cheek. “but 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, “we 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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#2013-11-13 04:47:11, as written by Scarlet Loup

It was a mostly fear of harming his unborn child that restrained Charles from pushing his wife against the wall in a passionate kiss. He would have do so in a heart beat, actually, but the ache of losing one child was still a fresh wound and the thought of losing another one plagued his mind.

His lips had brushed along the length of her neck slowly as he spoke, peppering gentle kisses on her flesh. He felt as if he'd gone too long without the touch of a woman. He'd nearly fallen victim to the temptation of whoring, but a shred of dignity had kept him from doing so. Before his marriage, Charles was an active man in every sense of the word. His youthful, licentious ways were the focus of many conversations in his father's home of Rigby Hall. The thought of being tied down to one woman for the rest of his days came as a shock to Charles, who had been resentful of his own father when he learned of the man's intent to marry him to the Stanford girl. The first meeting was an awkward one, to say the least, but he had wedded her and bedded her both in love. Even now, Charles knew not what made Harriet so different from the other women he'd shared a bed with. Was it her fiery spirit? Her opinionated ways? Most women had been more passive in his presence, but Harriet was certainly Charles's equal in more ways than one.

"Even when I'm grey and old?" Harriet questioned, laughing lightly at her own rhetorical question. Regardless, Charles nodded and smirked.

"Even when you're nothing more than a specter," he cooed, pushing a strand of hair from her face and tucking it behind her ear. She, in turn, rested a hand on his cheek. Charles raised his own hand and placed it over hers, holding it close and letting his eyes close in contentment as Harriet listed her plans for their family.

"We will have the largest, most powerful family in this entire land." She spoke with such conviction that Charles could have sworn he felt his pride swell. Right now, he would not bother to think of the reality, that such an idea was really an idea out of Harriet's mind and not the truth. Right now, he wanted to believe that such things were true.

She pressed her lips to his and Charles let out a soft moan against her pink lips as her hand trailed along his chest. His arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her close. Despite her already rounding stomach from the pregnancy, his long arms still met at the small of her back, massaging the flesh gently.

"There will be no families greater than ours," he purred, parting his lips from hers briefly as he laid his forehead against hers. "The Rayleighs will rule Seabel for centuries and centuries to come, we will assure it." They were empty promises conjured up out of thin air by the king, but they managed to comfort him in this period of uncertainty. While it was not his greatest concern, the thought of James's inevitable attempt and revenge loomed over him as he ruled his kingdom. The man would certainly try to avenge his father, who had died at the end of Charles's sword years ago at Mountain's Pass.

He removed one hand from the small of her back and placed it gingerly against her cheek, caressing her smooth flesh with his thumb, calloused from years with a sword. "We shall never fight like this again," he assured, adding to his list of empty promises. "I do not know what I would do with myself if we had another feud. You almost drove me to madness, I swear." A light escaped his lips, but there was a sad truth behind his words that could be seen in his eyes, which looked back at her mournfully now, despite his chuckle. "Yes, I certainly would have gone mad."

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#2013-11-25 01:23:11, as written by Calvazara

There was unmatched warmth a woman felt when sharing a bed with a man they loved and whom loved her in return, it had been something Harriet had always felt with Charles, even from their first time together all those years ago. And although that night had not been particularly pleasant for her, the love she had experienced from her new husband had been something which had stifled any pain she had felt and as they lay together, Harriet nestled within Charles’ arms she had never experienced such joy and serenity. She had known then that it was her place, her destiny to be beside that man, they had been made for each other, it was written in the stars, that, she was certain of and it shamed Harriet beyond belief at the thought of how close she had come to casting that to the winds.

"There will be no families greater than ours…The Rayleighs will rule Seabel for centuries and centuries to come, we will assure it." His words rang like music in her ears, the mere thought comforting beyond belief. True it had been Harriet who had initiated such words, but to hear Charles’ conformation gave her hope that the inevitable war between the Rayleigh’s and Lancaster’s was not one her husband deemed unbeatable. For if Charles was to lose hope, she would surely follow. Harriet nestled her head into the crook of his neck, inhaling his familiar, intoxicating scent, “Speaking of families… she began, her lips curling into a warm smile against his neck, “…your son began kicking not two days ago, he’s a strong one I assure you, almost made me double over.” Harriet laughed, rubbing her hand across her swollen abdomen. “Cecily has missed you a great deal. She will be so joyous when she see’s you tomorrow.”

Feeling his rough hand against her cheek, Harriet once again looked up into Charles’ blue hues, he spoke of them and how they would never fight the way they had over the past months. Not surprisingly, Harriet nodded along to every word he spoke, agreeing wholeheartedly. Of course it would be naïve to suggest never fighting again, they fought often, argued daily and quite often they would fight just to for the active reconciliations. But Harriet vowed then and there never to shut him out like she had again, ever again. “You almost went mad?” she laughed, feigning disbelief, “my darling, your absence almost made me ravenous...” She once again pressed her lips against his, “for your kiss…for your touch, everything about you only stirs my desire. And when a husband is not present to cater to their wife’s desire, she can find herself becoming rather irritable.”

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