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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.

0 · 1,058 views · located in Seabel

a character in “Forged of Blood and Steel.”, originally authored by Calvazara, as played by RolePlayGateway

Description

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Children of the future age,
Reading this indignant page,
Know that in a former time
Love, sweet love, was thought a crime.

In the age of gold,
Free from winter's cold,
Youth and maiden bright,
To the holy light,
Naked in the sunny beams delight.

Once a youthful pair,
Filled with softest care,
Met in garden bright
Where the holy light
Had just removed the curtains of the night.

Then, in rising day,
On the grass they play;
Parents were afar,
Strangers came not near,
And the maiden soon forgot her fear.

Tired with kisses sweet,
They agree to meet
When the silent sleep
Waves o'er heaven's deep,
And the weary tired wanderers weep.

To her father white
Came the maiden bright;
But his loving look,
Like the holy book
All her tender limbs with terror shook.

'Ona, pale and weak,
To thy father speak!
Oh the trembling fear!
Oh the dismal care
That shakes the blossoms of my hoary hair!' -William Blake





ImageRole: Wife of Sirā€¦ā€¦ā€¦ā€¦ Rayleigh

Gender: Female.

Age: Twenty Two.

Nicknames: Hettie or Hallie.







ImageHeight:

Weight: 117lbs

Build: Slender

Hair Colour: Light Blonde.

Eye Colour: Pale Blue.

Scars?: None.

ImageBrief written description: Harriet is a relatively tall, slender woman, standing 5ft 7 and weighing a light 110lbs, she is somewhat lacking in muscle and so is not all that physically strong, as a child she never really had a lot of strength and was often quite sickly, something she never truly shuck, however, her structure has made her very agile and fast, she is not easy to catch if she makes you chase her, luckily adolescence has given her some womanly features, a ample bosom and softly curved hips are a vast change from her lanky build as a child. The importance of image was drilled into Harriet from an early age, the correct posture is a must, she holds herself well, elegant and eloquently, this is something she never falters with. It is no secret that she is an extremely beautiful woman; Her creamy, pristine complexion is the plateau for a oval shaped face high and prominent cheek bones, enhance her elegant features, Harriet does not hold any sharp features in her face, her nose is straight and quite normal by standards, her lips are full and shapely and rather inviting. Her eyes, however, are quite possibly her greatest feature, the almond shaped orbs are home to a sapphire blue, which have the tendency of betraying her true emotions, framed with thick, fanned, black lashes and perfectly arched eyebrows, a shade or two darker than her actual hair; it is no wonder she had many admirers before she married. Her hair is a natural light blonde, almost golden tone in the sunlight which falls in soft, slightly thick curls, to the crook of her back, often compared to spun silk as it floats almost weightlessly down her back.

Hettie does like to take pride in her appearance and can become somewhat of a perfectionist when it comes to her looks, some may call her vain but she just likes to look nice and will never leave looking anything less than imacualte, yet she doesn't let this 'slight' vanity define her, for there is a lot more to her than just her beauty a fact that many people often forget.

Clothing preference: Harriet is in everyway a true lady of the South, she enjoys beautiful and elegant things and this shows with her clothing. Hettie enjoys fine and colourful fabrics with full skirts and tight bodices, which is very much the fashion in the South. Like most women she adores jewels, diamonds and emerald being her favourite; she does very much enjoy it when her husband surprises her with new jewels.






ImageSkills:
-Horse riding
-Knowledge on politics
-Embroidery
-Dancing
-Singing
-Painting
-Reading and Writing
-Bilingual
-Seducing the opposite sex.

Quirks:
-When bored Harriet has the tendancy to drum her finger nails on the surface, crating a rather annoying drumming sound.
-Se doesnā€™t like doing nothing; if she stuck with nothing to do then she will pace.


Likes:
-Her husband
-Horse Riding
-Spontaneity
-Sex
-Pleasure
-Reading
-Laughing
-Flowers
-Jewels
-Poetry
-Festivities
-Dancing
-Wine
-Family
-Loyalty
-Cooks Berry pie
-Exotic Fruits
-Different Cultures
-Summer
-Snow
ImageImage-Stars
-Music
Dislikes:
-Thunder
-Feeling helpless
-Silly women
-The North
-Treachery
-Greed
-Violence
-Pork
-Seafood
-Being too hot
-Prospect of war
-Being divided

Fears:
-Loosing her sister.
-Loosing her husband.

Written description: Harriet is and has always been a very mentally strong woman, intelligent and strong willed she is a woman who knows her own mind and is not afraid to show it. Hattie is a big believer that you should never judge someone on your first meeting and she follows this example, she will always give someone a chance, however cross her or a member of her family she will not hesitate ruin you. She has always been a big adventurer, as a child she would disappear for hours on end exploring different parts of the town and surrounding countryside, she just loves to discover new places, this coincides with her spontaneity, she loves nothing more than too surprise people, especially with her husband, whether it be gift, feast or sex (she will quite often pull her husband into the nearest room and fuck him senseless.) Although quite a homely Harriet is also aware of the undiscovered beauty that the world holds and would love an opportunity to travel to these far off lands. Hattie has always been extremely strong minded and opinionated, she knows her own mind and likes to speak it not matter what which can sometimes get her into a bit of trouble Hattie doesn't like things to get her down and doesn't let it, she's aware that this can come across as arrogant, but as Lady of the Realm it is her duty to remain poised and dignified.

Lady Harriet is an extremely beautiful, intelligent, sweet woman yet she has a manipulative streak and is by no means unaware of the influence of her charm and grace. She is an extremely stubborn woman and hates it when she's wrong; but is not above apologising if she is wrong. Harriet is pretty much a Stanford-Rayleigh through and through, strong, passionate and something to be admired, she is a rather flirtatious women and don't be fooled she does know how to use this too her advantage, she is a woman after all. Brazen and brave, Hallie is strong and determined, much like her mother, Lady Stanford and older sister, the Queen. She is extremely loyal and protective of her friends, and family; she has a sensitive and loving nature. Despite having a confident exterior, underneath it all, Hallie has become a little unsure of herself; this whole war has her divided, there is no question where her loyalties lie, with her husband. Yet her sister is Queen of the North and despite Francis Rayleighā€™s promises that no harm should befall her sister or any of her children, she canā€™t help but fear for her.

Fiercely loyal, Harriet would do just about anything for her husband, whom she loved dearly and believes the feeling is mutual. They enjoy testing each other, mainly flirting with opposite sex just to annoy the other; their fights are legendary and will often end in ripping the clothes off each other.






Relationship Status: Married.

Family:
Mother: Lady Cornelia Stanford
Brother: Lord William Alexander Stanford
Sister: Queen _________ Lancaster


Husband: Sir ........... Rayleigh
Father In-law: Lord Francis Rayleigh
Mother In-law: Lady Elizabeth Rayleigh
Brother In-law: Sir ........... Rayleigh
Sister In-law: Lady ........... Rayleigh
Brother In-law: Sir .............. Rayleigh
Sister In-law: Lady .............. Rayleigh

Secret Word: This Is war.

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So begins...

Harriet Rayleigh's Story

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Harriet Rayleigh Character Portrait: Charles Rayleigh Character Portrait: Sir Francis Rayleigh
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Sunrises where the most marvellous of spectacles, it never ceased to amaze how within minutes the sky could turn from the darkest abyss to the most splendid plateau of colour, closely matching that of a water coloured painting...it was beauty in its purest form; nature at its most powerful; chasing away the demons of the night, with an almost blinding angelical light sent by the heavenly lord to wash away the sins of the dark. Lady Harriet Rayleigh could scarcely remember a time when she had risen before the sun, now she had seen the sun set on many of occasions resulting in her not truly paying them much attention anymore, but with this sunrise it was as if she once again bore it through child eyes...it was simply magnificent. Harriet could only wish that she could enjoy it more.

Stood by the window in the bed chambers she shared with her husband, Harriet was clad in a thin cotton night gown, a woollen shall wrapped round her slender shoulders, offering little protection from the chill in the room. The fire was no more than some glowing embers, which the maid had still yet to come and stoke. After a mere three hours sleep, the lady had read until in the chair beside the glowing embers, the words on her page illuminated by a single lit candle, she did not wish to wake Charles. You would have fathomed that she would have finished the short story in the hours she had spent staring at the pages, however, she found herself re-reading the same passage, over and over again, no matter how many times she read the word they just just wouldn't sink in. It would seem the lady had too many distractions that nigh. Harriet had moved over to the window after finally giving up on her story, staring out over the Briar courtyard for seemed like hours, she watched intently, although her vision made impaired by the darkened sky yet she could still make out figures moving around below; a castle never truly slept...neither did she apparently. Harriet was naive to her sudden insomnia, the reason for it was quite vivid in her mind.

The prior evening the Rayleigh party had arrived at Briar, her childhood home after a two day ride from Port Vale. The ride had been a tiresome and rather uncomfortable one, having spent the first night under a hastily erected canvas shelter, granted it was rather luxurious inside, filled with the comforts of home but still not as comfortable as her bed chambers back at the citadel; it was a good job she wasn't one for complaining otherwise her poor husband would have had an earful. The further North they had travelled the colder the air had become and Harriet had near-enough found herself shivering by the time they had reached Briar; when did her beloved childhood home become such a cool place? Then again she supposed the answer was a simple one, having spent year and a winter in Vale, where the weather was far more agreeable, her blood must have warmed, making the temperature decrease even more noticeable. Harriet had, however been warmed immediately with the reunion with her mother and brother, William, whom she had not seen since their visit last summer. Unfortunately they hardly had time for much of a reunion, after they had eaten and shown to their rooms, William was whisked away into council with Lord Francis, Charles and her brother-in-laws. She had spent a few hours with her mother but had retired to bed with Charles not long after. This, however was not the cause of her insomnia.

No, that was the cause of where they would all be travelling to today, Beaumont Loch, some thirty miles away from Briar. Harriet had last visited the town when she was a mere girl, her father had been friends with The Lord Jenkyns who had governed the area, on invitation, with her family to spend the yule tide there and if her memory serves her correctly, it was a happy time. When Lord Jenkyns had died, he had no heir and so his property and lands had gone to the king; they visited the place again. Now, tomorrow they would ride there once more, Rayleigh banners flying proudly as they approached; it was to be the place of the peace summit. Harriet could have scoffed at that, infact she did when she had read the letter from her sister, Amalie, the Queen urging her to persuade the matter with Charles. What good a peace summit would do with families as stubborn as the Rayleigh's and the Lancaster's, never-the-less she had done as Amalie asked; pleading with her husband and father-in-law to at least hear what the King had to offer. Remarkably her pleas worked and they agreed, reluctantly, but agreed all the same; yet with all her doubt on the situation, Harriet found herself hoping against odds that talks would go well and get them off this collision course with war; some of her worst nightmares were about Charles dying on the battlefield.

Looking back at the bed, Harriet smiled at her slumbering husband. Tip-toeing across the stone floor, saving her bare feet from the cold floor rather than trying to not make a sound; she sat down on the side of the bed, careful not to wake Charles and studied him lovingly. He looked almost child-like when asleep, if it hadn't been for his long limbs and facial hair, she could have mistaken him for a child, he looked utterly at peace, so much so she felt almost guilty to rouse him, but alas they had a long day ahead of them and it was time to start it. Leaning forward, Harriet gently ran her slender fingers down the sound of his face, an affectionate smile tugging on her plump lips as she ran a trail of sweet kisses along his jawline, her fingers teasingly tracing the outline of the muscles of his chest. "Time to rise, my love."


---
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'Age has a way of sneaking up on a man.' It was a phrase Lord Francis Rayleigh had heard many a times in the past, his own father had warned him on many occasions, yet as a lad he had reason to believe he would never grow old, you see, Francis had grown up in a time when war was rife in Seabel, he himself had galloped onto the battlefield in his nineteenth year, he saw an arrow pierce his fathers neck two years later. With men dying around you daily, you would be a fool to believe you would survive the war; growing old never once crossed his mind in his youth, he imagined himself dying a glorious death on the battlefield, like his father before him, he imagine his body being laid to rest in the Rayleigh tombs back in Port Vale. No, he did not think he would survive the never-ending war against the neighbouring country of Luxor, so you can imagine his surprise when victory was declared and the fighting was over...he was still in the land of the living. He had been twenty and five then, living heir to the Rayleigh fortune, glorious victor of many battles and a part of him still felt invincible.

Peace is all good and well in theory, but the problem Francis and probably most men of that war-bread generation had with it was that, with no battles or tactics to ponder over, man find themselves becoming bored. With no common enemy, men have a tendency to turn on one another. This was exactly the case with the Rayleigh's and the Lancaster's; The families feud had begun generations ago, no one can quite remember the factual story but as the tale goes; After the forging of Seabel, the land fell into four regions, The North was reigned over by the Sulley's, The East by the Knivert's, The South by the Rayleigh's and The West by the Maloney's, things did not stay that way for long. The head of the Sulley family, was a man with no living sons to bequeath his title and land upon and so upon his death they would go to his daughters husband, the eldest Lancaster son, something the Rayleigh's were not to pleased about, since an argument over land barriers happened a few months prior. The final blow to their relationship came not two weeks later, when two Rayleigh sons were murdered on the way outside a tavern, supposedly by the youngest Lancaster son and four of his followers. The Rayleigh's were quick to retaliate, they quickly seized the murderers, tried them and arguable unlawfully executed them and later hung their bodies from the oak tree's which boarder the Lancaster property...

...Or so the story goes, the fact have been lost with the wind; The Lancaster's would no doubt have a different tale of events, but the fact remains that the feud is still as strong as the day it began. Made worse by the Lancaster's eventual take over of all the regions, suppressing the Rayleigh rule and most recently, the increased tax on the South and it's people. At least with a common enemy, the families could cease quarrels to fight the invaders but essentially it wasn't to last.

One thing Francis could remember,bet so vividly about his father, was his alcohol fuelled rants of rebellion, although Walter Rayleigh was often intoxicated when he would rant, Francis couldn't help but feel enamoured by his colourful and exuberant words, they were motivating and meaningful and many men agreed with him...the end of Lancaster rule was nigh. Unfortunately Walter died before he could carry out his plans. To Francis, although his fathers words were motivating, that's all they were at the end, just words. War is a gruesome affair, friends and family die around you and at the end of the last war, Francis had sworn he'd had enough bloodshed for one lifetime. He became a husband and then a father, he relished in both. When the King upped the taxes on the south, his people suffered dreadfully, whilst the North flourished, this ignited an old flame within Francis and the blaze of rebellion burned in his eyes. He didn't have to look hard to find supporters, nearly the entire South was on his side; it wasn't long until they openly opposed the King. Although there was nothing official a divide occurred between the regions, no Southerner was was safe in the North and no Northerner was safe in the South, it was the unofficial rule.

With age, Francis hatred toward the Lancaster's deepened, turning him into a solemn old man. Old, it was never a word Francis imagined using to describe himself, but the whiteness of his hair, the wrinkles on his face, the slacking of muscle and the aching of his joints indicated the inevitable, age had definitely snuck up on his. His most recent ailment was the constant aching in his hand, arthritis, the doctors called it, caused by years or sword fighting; out of everything, that was the one which irked him the most, his wrinkled were outweighed by his staggering height and still sturdy frame, his aching back could be soothed by the poppy seed, but the shake of his hands when he tried to lift anything weighty was not so easy to hide and it shamed him deeply. He was no longer the same Francis Rayleigh who marched upon the battlefield saying his enemy, never faltering, even at the sight of his fathers falling before him...no, now he was an old man.

Deep down part of him wished he had died in battle, that way he would have been remembered as the galant knight who died heroically facing his foe, immortalised in youth. Francis sighed at that thought, if he had of died, he wouldn't have married or had children, so for that part he was lucky. He had left his wife's side in bed, hours ago, sleep would to claim him that night, there was too many thoughts going through his mind for sleep. Francis sat, hunched over scattered documents, if he could not sleep then he might as well work, besides he didn't have time for anything else, armies cost money and he must keep his businesses running if he wanted to keep one. Rubbing his tired, blue eyes Francis stifled a yawn, turning to glance at the window, when had the sun risen?

Frowning he turned back to his papers, stretching to relieve the stiffness joints; his family should be joining him soon and if they saw him in his current state, he would surely be scolded for the lack of rest. The familiar clank of a handle signalled the opening of the banquet room door, naturally he would have preferred to have done his work back home in his private study, but this damned peace summit made him lack such luxuries. Of course Lord William, Harriet's brother had offered his own study for such tasks but he refused, Francis would not have made the same offer, therefore he must refuse Williams. A small woman walked into the room, stopping immediately as she saw him "beg your pardon Sir, but I need to stoke the fire" she spoke timidly, accompanied with an awkward courtesy.

Francis nodded, motioning with his hand to continue with her work, they both returned to their respected jobs. "Once you've finished, send for me a pot of the black coffee" he ordered. The woman rose from her knees with a quick bow "right away milord." Once she had vanished out the door, Francis placed down his quill and rubbed the back of his neck, tonight was certainly going to be a tiresome one, both physically and mentally.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Harriet Rayleigh Character Portrait: Charles Rayleigh
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Harriet happily watched as Charles rose from his sleep, his blue eyes cracking open slowly, he had always had the most magnificent eyes, which had a tendency of betraying his every emotion even if his body and temperament did not. It was one of things that Harriet found most attractive about her husband, she had been lucky to be paired with such a man, loving, kind, powerful, her father had certainly done well in the match and she made a mental note to thank her father when her time came to join him in the Kingdom of Heaven. Harriet released a sigh of content as Charles, closed the gap between their bodies, one of his hands clasping her, the other tangling in her hair as his lips slowly moved with hers; it was hard to recall a time when she hadn't awoken to her husbands tender kisses, they could brighten even her darkest days, she couldn't bare to think of a time when she wouldn't great a new morrow with them. As they pulled apart, Harriet mimicked Charles smile, her hand quickly caressing his cheek before he moved from the bed. If only they didn't have to go to this damned peace summit, the married couple could have quite happily stayed in bed and work on securing Charles a son; the thought momentarily made her frown as a hand rested lightly on her stomach, they had been married for over a year and still she had not conceived a child, it was a saddening thought but her mother assured her that these things took time yet that only offered a little comfort, if any, she knew Amalie had many miscarriages, but what if she was worse? What if she could not conceive a child at all? The thought was near-nigh unbearable.

"Did you sleep well?" Charles voice shook her from thought, her hand retracting from her stomach immediately "hmm...oh, yes, quite well" she lied with a small smile, Charles had enough troubles today to be bothered with hers also. "And you?" She enquired, knowing the answer, he had slept like a babe for the majority of night, although it did surprise her how he hadn't woken himself up with the amount of tossing and turning he does in one night, he would often wake her up from it with kicks from various limbs.

Needless to say Harriet smirked as Charles began to change in front of her; she had alway been a confident girl although naive when it came to coitus, other than what her mother had told her before her wedding night; luckily Charles had been the most wonderful teacher, gentle and patient he was the utter most gentleman...to begin with. Feeling a blush creeping on her cheeks, Harriet cleared her throat, smirking at the images racing through her mind. There was a soft knock at the door "enter" she called out, standing up from bed, shaking her hair free from the ribbon holding her hair back.

Her ladies maid, Bessie entered, Harriet's gown in her arms "good morning milady...milord" Bessie greeted with a quick courtesy "Good morning Bessie" Harriet smiled. Bessie helped Harriet out of her nightgown, stepping out of it, shivering slightly as the cold air hit her bare skin and quickly slipped on her smock and stockings, followed by her underskirt and corset; turning to Charles as her maid laced up the undergarment "what do you think will-" she cut off with a sharp intake of breath "not so tight Bessie" she scolded lightly with the shake of her head "sorry Lady Rayleigh" she apologised quickly. Harriet turned back to her husband, quickly recalling where she left of in her question "-do you think it will do any good?" She asked stepping into the skirts of her burgundy dress, Bessie helping her slip her arms through the sleeves of the taffeta gown before lacing it up at the back.

Harriet stared at her reflection, waiting for Charles to reply whilst Bessie combed her hair; she looked appropriate, it wasn't the most comfortable dress to travel in, the bodice was tight and low cut, making it difficult to breath, whilst the skirts were thick and stiff, but it was a beautiful gown none-the-less. A shade or two lighter than her husbands tunic; the Kirtle was a golden beige, with impeccable burgundy embroidery, matching that on the cuffs of her sleeves. Bessie had finally finished with her hair, pulling the sides up into a neat chignon as her curls tumbled down to the crook of her back, finally a golden tiara adorned with pearls and rubies "thank you Bessie you may leave us now." Turning towards Charles as Bessie left, walking over to him fastening the remaining buttons of his tunic, a smile playing on his full lips "there, you shall show those Lancaster's just how powerful and incredibly handsome the Rayleigh's are" Harriet chuckled slightly "My sister was a fool to marry into that family" she added with a quick kiss too his lips.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Harriet Rayleigh Character Portrait: Amalie Lancaster Character Portrait: Briar Rayleigh Character Portrait: Charles Rayleigh
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In truth Charles words just confirmed Harriets own suspicions, the Rayleigh family had prideful hearts, a blessing and a sin to most, they loved their country, the South anyway; they were passionate people, strong-willed, defiant...stubborn. Despite all her hope to avoid war, partly on the selfish reason she did not wish to be parted from Charles, it would seem that her father-in-law would not relent to the promises and hopes of the North. With a nod and a small smile Hallie hid her disappointment well; it wasn't that she opposed to the Rayleigh's cause, on the contrary she was a strong supporter, the South was a different country in itself, the complete polar opposite to the North and with every new tax and law brought out, the South became suppressed, their people suffered and it was simply heartbreaking. Each side had a way of life which was so different that neither could understand the needs of the other and so they were caught in a vicious cycle, they had been for years but with Francis Rayleigh as the spearhead they had decided that the South would succeed, but you could be damned that the Lancaster's wouldn't let it go without a fight.

"I know..." Harriet muttered breathlessly "...do not get me wrong darling, I believe strongly that this succession is the right thing to do. I just worry about what would happen to you if we were to go to war, I do not think my heart could take it if I lost you" she admitted a little sheepishly, before relenting with a sigh "do not pay me any real mind, I will support your choices full heartily...besides its my duty as your wife to worry about you, I don't know if I could find another husband who satisfy me as you do" Harriet smirked playfully, her eyes teasing as she tried to lighten the mood.

"Well, then you shall certainly show those Lancasters just how beautiful and breath-taking the Rayleigh women are." Harriet's smile, widened into beaming grin at his words "Which reminds me...we must watch out for Briar. She is a very beautiful girl but young, we must keep her away from the Prince, believe me when I say he would stop at nothing to try and woo her" she confessed her worries, unsure how they would be received, she wouldn't have said anything if it hadn't been for all the rumours she had heard and from past experience in dealing with the Prince of Seabel; at her sisters wedding, she had found herself subject to his advances and if it hadn't been for her brother she could have shamefully fallen for them. He was charming, mysterious and handsome, very dangerous traits in a man with no honour and the thought of the snake getting near her sister-in-law, a beautiful, virtuous if slightly naive girl, made her skin crawl.

Harriet held nothing but disdain for the man; shaking him from thought as Charles voiced resounded around the room, once more "I should probably head down to assist with packing the carriage again. Do you wish for me to ride with you today?" Harriet nodded in reply, her blue hues quickly glancing around the room in search of the book she had been reading earlier that evening, spotting in on the chair besides the dying fire "It would be lovely if you would" she smiled over her shoulder whilst retrieving the book "could you place this in the carriage, darling? So I shan't forget it" asked Harriet as she placed the small, leather bound book in her husbands large hands. "Whilst you help ready the carriage, I shall speak with the cook and get you some breakfast wrapped up." With one last quick kiss, Hallie swiftly glided towards the door, opening the latch with a loud clanking sound "I shall see you in a little while." With those final words, she she walked away from the room, her feet carrying her down the familiar corridors of her childhood home and towards the kitchen. It was a route herself, William and Amalie would do often as children in hopes of sneaking a slice of cake before dinner, the memory made her smile slightly. The three Stanford children had always been close as children, inseparable In fact; Hallie had cried for days when she found out that Amalie would be leaving them to marry the future King of Seabel, naturally her elder sister had comforted her, stating that things wouldn't change all to much and for a while things hadn't been so bad. Harriet for one would travel often to the capital with her family to visit her sister, as much as she disliked the Lancasters she was willing to put up with them for Amalie's sake. Although that had all changed when her own marriage was secured with the eldest son of the Rayleigh family; the last time she had seen her sister was two years ago at Yule tide, then in the autumn she had married Charles and all connections with the Queen ceased, save for a few letters, partly through fault of her own and not wanting to upset her new family giving their feud with the Lancaster's. It was an awkward situation, one made even more so with the threat of war; she loved her sister dearly, she truly did but the love she felt for Charles trumped all others and she would remain loyal to him and his family till the day she died.

Walking down the narrow servants steps, Harriet soon arrived in the bustling kitchens "good mornin' milady, is there 'owt I can 'elp you with?" A young girl whom Hallie figured as the Scullery maid asked her hastily, looking up from the doe she had been kneading.

Harriet smiled "yes, there is actually, could I trouble you to prepare a basket for Sir Rayleigh, for our journey? Perhaps a few rashers of bacon, some bread and jam and maybe some fruit? That is if you are not otherwise preoccupied"

The young girl quickly shook her head, wiping her flower covered hands off on her apron "not 'tall miss, I'll do it now for ye" she replied hastily, making Harriet smile slightly "thank you. Please bring it up to me when you have finished" she added quickly before turning to walk back up the stairs into the living quarters of the castle.

Upon reaching the banqueting room, where breakfast was traditionally served for large parties staying in Briar, Harriet immediately spotted Bee about to enter the hall "Good morning Briar" called out Harriet chirpily as she walked towards her sister-in-law, a wide smile etched across her lips "how do you fare this morning?"

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Character Portrait: Harriet Rayleigh Character Portrait: Briar Rayleigh Character Portrait: William Alexander Stanford
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William's movement came to an abrupt halt as he finished his last attack. Slowly moving the blade in front of his face William closed his eyes and took a deep breath, in through his nose and out through his mouth.

"Well if you're quite done prancing about I do believe there's work to be done." A rough voice said to William's left. With a small smile William turned to he his manservant, Oliver Hastings, standing off to the side holding the scabbard for William's Sword.

"I seem to recall that I left the preparations in your very capable hands." William stated simply has he took proffered scabbard and sheathed his sword.

"Oi, you nobles are all the same. Out here wasting your time playing with you're fancy toys while us common folk do all the work." Oliver responded with a scowl.

"Funny thing, I seem to remember you acting very similarly when you were in a position of authority over me."

"Yeah... Well... That was different. I was teaching to be responsible and the like." William let out a small chuckle, echoed by Oliver.

William had known Oliver since he was 16. Oliver was the man who'd brought William off the battlefield on that fateful day when William had been abandoned by his knight and was one of the few who actually knew the full story, the true story, of what had happened. A soldier by trade, Oliver had taken William under his proverbial wing when he had decided to abandon the path to knighthood. They'd had many adventures before William felt he should return back to the Family Estates permanently at the age of 20 and William had offered Oliver the chance to come with him and become an Arms-men and servant for House Stanford. Short, but powerfully built Oliver had the dark hair and eyes that marked him as a Northerner, but he had run into very little problems from the Southern folk despite the increasing hostility between the two sides. The grizzled veteran was very visibly a man not to be trifled with.

"What else is there left to prepare?" William inquired has they neared his rooms.

"Just you. I've had the other lads take care of provisions and supplies. They should be getting your mount ready and loading things as we speak. I've got you a set of light plate and mail ready, as well as a more elaborate set for ceremonial purposes should the need require, as well as your great sword. I assume you'll want the sword you're carrying for the journey, and I've also had a shield made ready. So really all that's left now is you."

"Well in that case, what do you say to stopping off for a bite of breakfast?"

"I'll never complain about getting food."

"Well in that case, that should be our next destination."

Still bare-foot, bare-chested, and covered in sweat William led the pair through the Castle. As he neared the banqueting room he caught sight of the back of a young woman, he thought it to be Lady Briar Rayleigh, entering. "Good morning Briar, How do you fare this morning?" The voice of his William's Sister brought a smile to his face as he entered shortly after Briar.

"Good Morning Lady Briar, Harriet." William said happily, one of his few truly bright smiles on his face, as he bowed to each in turn with Oliver following his lead. It was good to have Harriet back home. Now if only they could get Amalie. If he could get them both safely under the same roof he felt that he could weather whatever the Rayleigh's, the Lancaster's, and even God himself could throw at him.

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Character Portrait: Harriet Rayleigh Character Portrait: Briar Rayleigh Character Portrait: William Alexander Stanford
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Briar turned about on hearing her name with an automatic smile on her lips. Upon seeing her sister-in-law, Briar gave her a curtsy in greeting, stopping to allow her to catch up and walk beside her, these last few steps until they were truly considered 'inside' the hall. "Lady Harriet, what a pleasure. I am marvelous this morning - and yourself?"

Her slow, measured steps led to the banquet, quite content to delay breakfast for moments when she could have conversation. "It is rather more frigid than I expected, however. I am unused to the temperatures."

Briar's smile became more natural the more she spoke, though it was kept polite and kind. She turned around, half-startled, when she heard another voice, and dropped into another curtsy to greet Lady Harriet's brother. "Sir William," she said, and she could feel her cheeks heat up when she noticed the state of undress he was in. Politely, she averted her eyes towards the other man he was with, and gave him a cordial greeting as well.

It seemed like breakfast time for many stomachs, apparently. Bree had been on her way to find her father... but she could always find him later. Or even perhaps he would arrive at breakfast, if she had not already missed him. That would be too bad if she had. She didn't expect to see a lot of him in coming times - Lancaster dislike was a bit of a family trait and prolonged orbit of the two would certainly lead to stress, which was bad. She pursed her lips at the thought, then shook her head to shoo them, smile returning.

"Food never fails to lure, apparently. Would you care to join me in breakfast, Lady Harriet, Sir William, Sir?" she inquired, manners flawless. She hadn't actually extended the invitation to Lady Harriet - ah, there was a flaw, but it could be ignored - and she felt it was proper to include the two men as well, despite their state. Perhaps more would come and they could have a proper breakfast party as well. It never hurt to hope.

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Character Portrait: Harriet Rayleigh Character Portrait: Briar Rayleigh Character Portrait: William Alexander Stanford Character Portrait: Mycah Rayleigh Character Portrait: Sir Francis Rayleigh
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The sun was bright against his closed eyelids, and he squeezed his eyes shut even tighter to block it out. Mycah wasn't ready to wake up yet, he still felt exhausted. He had been up late, way too late, flirting and chasing after one of the handmaids. And all his efforts had been for nothing. She had left him alone in the early hours of the morning, admitting she needed some sleep, for she was needed extremely early to wait on her lady. He had been extremely disappointed, but had let her leave. He liked women, but he was never the type to force one to be with him. He was just about to drift back to sleep when a soft knock came, accompanied by the squeak of the door opening. "Milord?" a gentle voice whispered, sounding slightly frightened. He pounded a fist into his covers, not happy to be woken. He sat up in bed, the covers falling around him to leave his chest exposed.

He was pleasantly surprised to find the handmaid from the night before peaking into his room. She averted her eyes immediately at his exposed skin. A smile lit Mycah's features as he noticed precisely who it was. "Ah, so you couldn't stay away after all," he said somewhat cockily. A flush crept up her cheeks, making them a warm, rosy pink. She shook her head instantly, denying him once more. "I've been sent to fetch ya, milord," she said somewhat breathily, still only peeking her head into the room. Obviously she didn't want to come in. "Yer late fer breakfast, and yer family will leave within the hour." With that she curtsied, although he couldn't really see it because she wouldn't come inside the room, and her head disappeared, the door closing behind her. He instantly bolted out of bed, cursing aloud. His father was going to be upset at his lack of preciseness, he had a feeling.

He decided to throw on a soft white cotton shirt, with a leather jerkin over top. A pair of simple brown cotton breeches as well as brown boots completed his look. He took a look in the mirror, and wasn't as horrified as he thought he would be. His hair was normally styled in a haphazard manner, and his bed head didn't look much different. He ran his fingers through his hair a few times to smooth down any runaway hairs. After a few moments, he was pleased enough with his appearance to go downstairs to his family. He was only going to be travelling a majority of the day, so his appearance wasn't as much of a priority.

Mycah left the room, and found the first servant he could. "I need my things packed and carried down to the carriages right away," he said with authority, stopping only momentarily to address the girl. "Yes, milord," she responded with a nod, and he walked off, leaving her to the job. He made his way downstairs to the large banquet room, where he knew most of his family would be gathered. As he entered, he saw that his father was present, as well as his little sister, Lady Harriet, Sir William, and another man he didn't know. "Father," he said curtly, giving him a nod. He hoped to escape without being chastised for his late arrival. He walked over to Briar and Harriet, a smile on his face.

His little sister was easily his favorite sibling, if not his favorite person in general. They were the two youngest, and had always stuck together at a young age. Even though as he got older and spent more time on ships, he was always happiest to see her when back on land. He was fiercely protective of her, and was happy to know she was still generally naive for her age. He hoped it stayed that way. He walked up behind her, and playfully messed her hair. "Morning, sister," he said cheerfully, giving her a tight hug afterwards. He gave Harriet a warm smile and nod. "Good morning, Lady Harriet. I hope the both of you slept well." His eyes trailed over to William, whose state of dress was in disarray. Yet, dare Mycah say it, he looked good. He was strong and had more muscle than most men Mycah had seen. He knew William stuck to a strong training schedule. "Morning William," he called, giving the man a wave.

Honestly, he was famished, and sat down at the table to begin eating. The table had more food selection than necessary, but Mycah didn't complain. He grabbed an assortment of choices, and dug in. He wanted to be able to get his fill before they were forced to leave and head for Beaumont. "So, how is everyone this morning?" he asked to no one in particular.

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Harriet had never been one who could eat a great deal during the morning hours, it would seem that her body woke hours before her stomach and even on some occasions her stomach wouldn't rumble until the early afternoon, today seemed to be one of those days, although she put this loss of appetite down to her nerves. Taking a seat at the table Harriet smiled, her mother had certainly displayed an excellent breakfast, it was just a shame that the appetites of her guests seemed to be elsewhere on this day; skipping the meats and eggs, Harriet put a few slices of apple and some grapes on her plate, she didn't think she could stomach much else. Brining them to her lips, it didn't take long for her to eat, her stomach instantly satisfied, though it did not need to be, it was then she moved onto her tea, pouring the liquid from an ornately painted pot into an equally pretty cup and saucer, it brought a smile to her pretty face that her mother still remembered how she liked tea with her breakfast.

Bringing the cup to her lips, Harriet sipped the refreshing liquid, the effects of her sleepless night quickly evaporating, if she had been in private she would have forgotten her lady-like stance and sank back into her chair, instead she remained poised, listening idly to the conversations around her but not participating in any particular. Eyes on the now opened double doors, Harriet was the first to see Mycah Rayleigh enter the hall, his happy demeanour immediately making her smile. He took a seat opposite her "Good morning, Lady Harriet. I hope the both of you slept well." Harriet playfully rolled her eyes "Mycah, please, we are family, we do not need titles" she smiled, softly scolding as she had done with Briar not long ago "and too answer your question, yes I did, thank you" she lied.

"Beg me pardon, Milady" a voice beckoned Harriet away from Mycah's attention and towards the young kitchen maid, who held a wicker basket in her hands "I 'av done that basket for ya" she spoke quickly and shyly, her eyes quite evidently fixated to the floor. Rising from her chair, Harriet walked towards the girl, taking the basket from her hands "thank you very much, Millie." The smiled brightly, before offering a rather ostentatious courtesy, one Hettie had to bite her lip from laughing aloud about, then the girl hurried off once again no doubt in a hurry to get back to her chores. Turning back to her family, she gave them all a quick smile "I am going to deliver Charles his breakfast and I shall see all at the carriages shortly" she spoke before swiftly moving across the floor and excited the hall.

The layout of Briar was still vividly etched into her mind, that she easily found the right corridor in the labyrinth of passageways which would take her to the courtyard, where the carriages waited for the family. By the door she spotted her ladies, patiently waiting for her, open approaching them, each curtseyed, before Bessie stepped forward, a heavy burgundy cloak in her arms, placing it over her mistresses shoulders, she clasped it in place with a golden broach, just above her bosom; Hannah then stepped forward and offered Harriet her brown, leather glove, which she quickly slipped over her hands "Thank you ladies, I shall see you when we return from Beaumont, Bessie I shall see you this evening" she smiled towards the women, before continuing through the door.

The sun no longer seem to dominate the sky, instead it had been replaced by a host of dark, storm clouds, this caused her to frown, it was a somewhat disturbing prophecy of their road ahead. Spotting Charles by their carriage, she walked over, opening the door to the carriage and placed the basket inside on the seat. Turning back Harriet moved towards her husband, her arms looping around his waist as she placed a kiss on his shoulder blade "are we ready, love?" She asked, smiling into his back as her forehead came rest against his shoulder.

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"It would be lovely if you would. Could you place this in the carriage, darling, so I shan't forget it?" Charles' fingers closed slightly around the book his hand, the leather, still warm from his wife's hands, pressed into his palms. Slowly he slipped the small volume into the top of his burgundy tunic, letting the novel fall down to his belt. Despite how uncomfortable it was, at least he'd be able to keep the text clean while carrying as much as he could. "Of course, dearest," he replied, looking back at her as he lifted their bags up in his hands. She approached him, then, and pressed her lips quickly against his. Charles returned the kiss with a passion, his eyes closing for a moment. He silently prayed they would have time alone on the carriage ride. Harriet moved off toward the door, her dress moving behind her as she walked swiftly. Charles watched her closely, staying a few steps behind as she lifted the latch and started down the hallway.

"I shall see you in a little while," she called, moving toward the dining hall. Charles smiled and nodded, yawning softly afterwards. Unfortunately, the courtyard and dining hall were in opposite directions from the bed chambers he had shared with Harriet. Therefore, he knew he would be walking alone to the carriages that stood outside. Hefting the bags a bit higher, Charles started down the long, well-decorated hallway. It was cold, too cold for his taste. In fact, the further he went, the colder it seemed to be. He regretted not putting on a doublet over his tunic. Perhaps he'd pull one out of his bag before getting in the carriage to leave.

The young knight made his way out of the front doors of the castle, entering the courtyard straight away. The cold air hit him sharply, a great contrast to the weather he normally dealt with back in his home. Charles hunched his shoulder slightly and approached an empty carriage, which he placed the bags near. Another gust of wind hit and, instead of bracing it, Charles quickly rummaged through his luggage and pulled out a thick, fur overcoat which he'd had made especially for diplomatic relations such as this. In fact, he hardly used coats of any kind back in Port Vale. The warm ocean breezes made the weather mild enough to hardly feel a thing which was just the way he loved it.

With the overcoat on, Charles grabbed a few bags and begun to place them in the carriage itself, making sure to leave enough room for his wife and himself. Suddenly remembering, he pulled the novel out and laid it on the seat where Harriet would be able to see it. Grabbing the rest of the luggage, Charles stepped up on to the running board of the carriage and started to set them on the top. His lean frame pressed against the side of the carriage as he attempted to balance himself. However, as he set the final chest on top of the carriage, his footing shifted and his right foot lost its foothold. Pitching backwards, Charles grasped for some sort of handle, yet his fingers simply closed around nothing as he fell backwards.

"Oi, sir, you alright?" cried a servant, hurrying over to Charles as the latter muttered a curse under his breath and slowly sat up. The servant gripped one of Charles' arms and, with a surprising amount of strength, lifted him to his feet. Charles rolled his shoulders slowly, sore from the sudden contact with the stone. He'd probably find a few ugly bruises later...but he did not want to appear weak before the man who helped him up. Removing his coat to brush it off, he nodded quickly.

"Yes, I am quite alright," he replied, matter-of-factly. The knight pulled the overcoat back on over his throbbing shoulders and looked down at the servant who could not be much taller than five and a half feet or so. "Just tie those bags up there when you get around to it."

"I'll try not to fall," murmured the man as he walked off to the carriage. Charles huffed lightly, eyes narrowed at the arrogant man. Chin tilted upward slightly as if to show he still had as much pride as beforehand, Charles made his way to the stables to check on his horse. Serenity was a tall, white mare of only nine years that had been a gift from an old friend, long since dead in battle or gone into hiding. Her name was quite the misnomer, however; the mare showed an attitude and spunk that made her nearly impossible to break at first. It was a challenge, but there was nothing better than a good challenge in Charles' mind. As he entered the stall, he could hear her distinct, high-pitched whiny which was paired with a deep snorting. His pace quickened slightly and he turned the corner to find his horse and another chestnut mare nipping at each other, whining or snorting when they hit their mark.

"Ease off, girl!" he shouted, shoving away the snout of his horse and receiving a slight nip on his hand. He moved her large, snow-colored head to face him, staring into her brown eyes. "Hush now." Slowly, Charles ran a hand along her snout then twirled a piece of her forelock in his fingers as the horse began to calm. "Good girl...stay out of trouble." He pressed his lips softly against her nose and then stepped back. The mare let out a sharp whiny, tossing her head impatiently as if she wanted him to return and let her out. Shooting the horse a regretful look, he turned and started back out to the carriage. By the time he was out, the arrogant servant had tied the bags and chests to the carriage and secured them.

The sky overhead had turned dark and a bit unsettling by then as large, dark clouds crowded the heavens. Charles frowned, running a large palm through his auburn locks as his lips pressed together in worry. Well, at least they'd be inside the carriage if it rained. He heard footsteps behind him and turned to see Harriet walking toward him with a basket in her hands. She pulled open the door of the carriage and slipped it inside on to a seat before wrapping her arms around him from behind. She pressed a kiss against his shoulder and murmured: "Are we ready, love?" Her forehead came to rest against his shoulder, buried in the fur of his overcoat. Charles smiled and slowly turned around to face his wife, wrapping his own arms around her as he placed a kiss on the top of her head.

"Ready when ever you are, my darling," he cooed, pulling away to place a hand under her chin and tilt it upward. With his eyes now meeting hers, Charles leaned down and kissed her again, letting his lips linger on hers before eventually pulling away. The knight opened the carriage door again and took his wife's hand to support her as she got in. After she was in, he'd follow her and settle into the seat beside her.

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Harriet felt a bolt of electricity shoot through her body as Charles turned, his arms snaking protectively around her small waist, the kiss he place atop of her head brought a smile to her red lips. She had always dreamt of marrying for love, however being born into a powerful and influential family such as the Stanford's, dampened such dreams almost immediately after they arrived, she was a girl and she was considered beautiful by some, she would be used as a pawn, there was no doubt about it. A similar thing had happened with her cousin Rose Hale, she had been used as a bargaining chip between the Burton's and the Hale's, though Harriet had never been told what the Hale's had gained by essentially 'selling' their eldest daughter to those Burton Brutes, they had prospered afterwards. It was a sad thought, to think that she can't seen Rose in so many years, they had been so close as children, they never imagined a time when they would be separated not only by marriage but also loyalties. Harriet had been adamant that she faced a similar fate of her sister and cousin, she was the last to marry, being the youngest out of the three girls, her dreams of marrying for love had been squashed gently by her mother long ago "we women do not have the luxury of love, if we are lucky we learn to love our husbands, like I did with your father, but, be assured, my little dove, you find all the love you could possible ever hope for within your children" Lady Cornelia Stanford had uttered to her once.

Words that had stayed with Harriet ever since, well at least until she was told she was to marry Sir Charles Rayleigh. She would be lying if she told you she hadn't been the littlest bit excited at the prospect, she had met the tall, handsome, Rayleigh heir a few time prior, he had always been charming and charismatic towards her. Their courtship was short, Sir Francis had seemed eager for them to marry as quickly as possible, in honesty it had been slightly too rapid to their nuptials, however They made each other laugh, conversation flowed freely, they would take long rides or walks, he taught her how to shoot an arrow and the chemistry between them was simply magnetic. Harriet had been pleasantly surprised at how quickly she had fallen in love with Charles, when she walked down the aisle on the arm of her father, she hadn't been frightened like she predicted, she had been optimistic and actually quite giddy. It was their wedding night, Harriet fell truly, madly, deeply in love with Charles. He was an exquisite lover, gentle and passionate, he took her to new heights of pleasure, he still did, even with the slightest touch, longing glance or sweetest kiss a wave of electricity shot through the blonde like a bolt of lightening. She knew that first night they had shared a bed as man and wife, that she was one of the lucky ones, she truly loved her husband.

Charles hand gently cupped her chin, bringing her to his eyes level, she smiled, biting the corner of her lip, her lust filled eyes, gazing up at her husbands doe eyes, eyes which made her unable to stay too mad at him for any length of time. "Ready when ever you are, my darling," his lips then met hers with a searing kiss, which made her heart flutter with joy, he gradually pulled away and help her into the carriage, always the tricky business when you wore yards of heavy material. Taking the book from the seat below her, Harriet placed it in her lap as she sat down, Charles taking a seat next to her, closing the door behind him. Her hand came to rest gently on his thigh as she turned her head to smirk at him, her blue eyes glinting with a mischievous shine "lets retire early, this evening, we can try quite actively to give you an heir" she giggled slightly, leaving a trail of kisses along his jawline, nipping in places, just to tease him, her nails running in soft circles over the material of his trousers "seven hells, let us skip the summit all together and find a quiet, little spring where we can bathe naked and frolic in the grass" she smirked against his skin, a small chuckle escaping her lips afterwards.

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A young Charles Rayleigh would have scoffed at the mere thought of marriage. The idea of settling down and promising his love to one woman and one woman only disgusted him in his youth. He was, during those times, a reckless young man, set on the idea that a man of his pedigree deserved any woman he wanted. In fact, he had believed he deserved anything he wanted. It was for these reasons that he filled his days with alcohol, women, and long rides in the woods. It wasn't until a few years ago that he'd been forced to face reality.

Being the eldest, he knew his father had plans to find him a wife before his younger siblings. Regardless, it still came as a shock when he'd been told he would be marrying Harriet Stanford, the youngest daughter of the Stanford family. He pretended for a few weeks that he would simply be able to marry the woman, have the status of being a married man, and continue his earlier practices. Yet, his mother had had the idea to sit him down and address him.

"You are expected to treat her with respect, Charles," she said, her voice strong and unwavering, her eyes boring into his. "What sort of man would you be if you treated a woman poorly, let alone your wife? Like an object? Not much of a man at all, if anything." The proud young man averted his eyes slowly, his cheeks flushing in humiliation. It was one thing to be scolded by his teachers or even his father...but once his mother stepped in to scold him, he might as well have crawled into a corner like a dog with its tail between its legs. Something in Charles changed that night and he courted Harriet for short while, showing the utmost respect toward her, speaking to her as his equal. To his close companions, he seemed like a completely different person and, more or less, he really was a different person. The night they shared his bed, the night they truly sealed their love, he found himself falling irreversibly in love with the woman, even though he had already done so earlier while they courted. A more perfect match had never been observed before, he believed.

Once Harriet was in the carriage and sitting, Charles slowly climbed in beside her. His wife had placed the book on her lap while Charles sat on the seat beside her, closing the door of the carriage. He looked out of the window for a few moments until he felt a delicate hand rest upon his thigh. The young man's eyes widened slightly as he looked back at Harriet, who smiled mischievously up at him.

"Let's retire early this evening...we can try actively to give you an heir," she cooed, giggling as her lips glided along his neck and left a gentle trail of kisses against his tanned flesh. He bit his lower lip lightly as she nipped against the flesh. Meanwhile, her nails made small circles against his trousers. Charles let out a soft grunt subconsciously, biting his lip a bit harder as if to try and stifle it. "Seven hells, let us skip the summit all together and find a quiet, little spring where we can bathe naked and frolic in the grass. " At that moment, nothing sounded better. Charles kissed Harriet's neck softly, his turn now, and ran kisses under her chin all the way down to where the fabric of her dress's neckline began.

"Shame on you for teasing your poor husband so..." he playfully muttered. "How shall I focus now at the summit with such a proposition?" He lifted the book from her lap and placed it on the seat across from them as he ran a hand along Harriet's thigh slowly. "Darling, I would love nothing more than to spend an entire lifetime with you, alone and 'frolicking'..." He trailed off as he left another line of kisses that led up to her lips. Instead of kissing them, however, he pulled away and grinned. He slowly shrugged off his overcoat and laid it on the seat across. Shooting a quick glance at his wife, he slowly undid the top two buttons of his tunic and left them there before glancing back out of the window. With his head turned, she was unable to see his broad, cheeky smirk.

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Harriet couldn't help but smirk as her husband grunted, she would be lying if she said she didn't feel the tiniest bit of satisfaction at still being able to provoke such a reaction from Charles. It pleased her immensely that the romance in their relationship was still as fresh as when they first married, she had heard many complaints from women in Vale about their husbands seeking mistresses for pleasures of the body, resorting to them simply for procreation, she had even heard some woman complain about sex, obviously their husbands weren't as skilled as Charles, something which made her a little bit smug. Her Charles was divine, a true master in the art of passion, her toes could curl by the simple touch of his lips, the mere thought was enough to make her giggle as if a child once again; it's safe to say Harriet and Charles were quite often "indisposed" to preoccupied with each other to pay anybody else any real mind.

Charles as expected, took control of the situation and began to kiss her slender neck, his lips feathering their way across, the gentle, milky flesh of her neck, down to where the fabric of her neckline began, her fingers ran through his russet hair, biting down to the corner of her lip, desire building within her "oh Charles" the moan rolled of her tongue with ease. "Shame on you for teasing your poor husband so..." Harriet laughed lightly "if I didn't tease you, then who would? Beside as your wife, it is my given right" she smirked in a playful tone which matched his. "Darling, I would love nothing more than to spend an entire lifetime with you, alone and 'frolicking'..." Charles trailed off as he began another trail of kisses which lead up to her lips, hovering her plump, Cupid bow lips before pulling away with a grin.

Harriet's blue hues narrowed slightly, in mock annoyance "now, who's the tease" she murmured, he head coming to rest on his shoulder, she watched as he removed his overcoat, placing it on the chair opposite and unfastened as couple of button of his tunic. Harriet smirked into his shoulder, she knew the game he was playing and if she knew Charles at all, which she did, he would be staring out the window, beaming cheekily. An idea popping into her mind, she smirked quickly before acting, moving swiftly, she removed her heavy cloak, placing it on the same chair as Charles coat before gracefully straddling her husband, a smile on her pretty face as her slender finger worked on the remainder of the buttons on his tunic. Suddenly the carriage jerked forward as they began their journey, causing Harriet to fall forward into Charles, pushing back from the wall she laughed loudly, with a shake of her head.

Spotting the basket with Charles breakfast in, Harriet leant down, careful not to fall with the movement of the carriage, she lifted it to the space she had just occupied and lifted off the cotton cloth which covered the contents. Lifting out a neatly wrapped parcel, Harriet carefully unwrapped it, revealing a few rashers of bacon, breaking one in half, she held it towards Charles lips, waiting for him to take a bite.

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"Oh, Charles," moaned Harriet, her slender fingers running through his russet hair as his lips glided along her skin. He looked up quickly, noticing she had bitten the corner of her lip lightly. He chuckled gently against her collarbone as she moaned, feeling a great sense of satisfaction as she emitted the moan. Well, at least he hadn't lost his touch in the year they'd been married. Being able to pleasure his wife so made him feel quite the lover. In fact, he didn't even seem to mind that he was unable to have any woman he wanted in his bed anymore. Every encounter with her felt new and even more enthralling than the last. "If I didn't tease you, then who would? Besides, as your wife, it is my given right." Charles pulled away from the trail of kisses to look at her in the eye, fighting back a smirk.

"Well, I certainly don't need to be teased," he countered, regardless of the fact that he really did enjoy this game of teasing, a bit cat-and-mouse like with the two of them constantly changing roles. "Besides, I do not remember agreeing to being teased when I married you, love." He kissed her again on the neck and then pulled away from her lips, smirking. Harriet narrowed her eyes slightly at him, feigning annoyance at him.

"Now who's the tease?" she murmured, resting her head against his shoulder lightly. As he partially undressed and looked out of the window, he could feel Harriet bury her face into his shoulder and smirk. Obviously, she knew just what he was doing. It didn't matter, however. He just meant to get her worked up and had succeeded, or at least it seemed so. Suddenly, Harriet started to undo her cloak and tossed it on top of his overcoat. Charles raised an eyebrow and looked over at his wife, confused for a few moments. In a few heartbeats, she gracefully straddled him, smiling down at him in a way that made a wave of desire crash over him. Her nimble fingers undid the remainder of the buttons on Charles' tunic, exposing his abdominals. He grinned back up at her and slowly sat up, letting the tunic fall off of his shoulders and settle behind him, uncovering the remainder of his upper body.

Without warning, the carriage jolted forward and she fell into him. Their laughs mingled together as she shook her head and slowly pulled herself back up to sitting position on his lap, straddling him still. Her eyes settled upon the basket she'd set in the carriage earlier. She moved it to the seat beside them and, from it, she produced a small parcel. She slowly unwrapped it and Charles watched closely, setting his hands on her waist affectionately. Harriet pulled out a piece of bacon then and broke one in half. She moved the bacon toward him and placed it a few millimeters from his lips, waiting for him to make a move. Smirking, Charles slowly leaned forward and pressed his lips against the bacon. Parting them, he grabbed the rasher with his teeth and pulled it from her fingers in a way that he managed to make enticing and, somehow, attractive. In a painfully slow manner, he chewed up the rasher and then swallowed it, never breaking eye contact with Harriet. The bacon was wonderful, cooked to just about perfection. He moaned gently, though it was quite hard to tell if it was from the bacon or the fact that his wife was situated on his lap.

Removing one hand from her waist, he picked up the other half of the bacon and placed one end between his teeth. Leaning forward, Charles held the other end a short distance from Harriet's lips. The corners of his lips turned upward slightly in a grin. Yes, he did love these games of cat-and-mouse, even though he would never admit it.

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If there was one thing that could be said about Harriet Rayleigh, it would be that the woman did not need to be protected, like most of the same sex. She could hold her own and although she did not wield a sword, or gallop full haste into battle, she could make a man squirm by her icy cool glare and sharp, when she had been wronged, hell hath no fury like a scorned Harriet Rayleigh. In many ways she had quite a similar temperament to her husband, that it sometimes made her laugh how she was deemed the calm and sensible one, for she could be just as rash and quick to anger, still she supposed it was down to the fact that she was woman and that her anger, no matter how terrifying, could not do any real damage, asides to her husbands eardrums. Women were much set upon in the world, but she did not envy men, nor did she wish she had been born the opposite sex, for if men were the head, then women were the necks, supporting and holding strong. Then again, that did not mean she particularly liked women anyway, especially those who were fickle, it was one of the reasons she had never liked the kings court, women paraded themselves like cattle in front of counts, dukes and earls, all looking to exchange their love for diamonds and gold and don't even get her started on the silly fools who relied on their husbands for everything, something which irked Harriet immensely about her sex. She could go on about the subject for hours, but the wasn't worth being lost to such trivial thoughts. Even though, Harriet was not one of these 'needy' wives, feeling the protectiveness of Charles hands on her waist made her feel like nothing could ever harm her, a feeling which she actually quite enjoyed.

Harriet smiled as Charles chewed on the bacon, feeling a hand leave her waist, her blue gaze followed him as he picked up the other half and brought it back to his lips, the movements surprisingly sensual, holding the meat between his teeth, Charles leant forward and Harriet caught the piece between her own lips as they brushed against his, before she pulled back, chewing on the piece she had broken off. Before she knew it, the blonde moaned as the flavours erupted her taste buds "see, I told you Briars butcher was far superior to the one in Vale" she uttered playfully, settling a statement she had made months ago, about the quality of the meat back in Vale. She quickly wiped her hands on the cloth which had been covering the basket before turning her attention back to her husband, her eyebrow arched slightly as her almond shaped eyes narrowed in a sultry manner, her red lips tugging into a smirk. Purposely she lightly rolled her hips, hoping to steer a response from him, as she sat upright in his lap her hands snaked around his neck, as she pressed her chest tightly against his bare one, her nails lightly running lines up and down over his shoulder blades.

A hand came to rest softly on Charles hollow cheek, her gaze momentarily lapsing of lust and replaced with one of utter admiration, her chest slowly rose as she gazed into his eyes, a soft smile coming to his lips, never could she have imagined herself so in love with one man "regardless of what happens today, I hope you know that I will never leave your side. The Queen may be my sister, but my loyalty and my heart lies solely with you, Charles." It was strange how suddenly Harriet had felt the urge to utter those words, the sincerity in her voice most probably the strongest it had ever been. Caressing his cheek, she brought her lips down to his, her other hand coming to rest on his other cheek, gone was their cat and mouse games, instead before them was simply a wife's adoration for her husband.

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Harriet's supple lips brushed against the bacon Charles held, catching the rasher between her teeth. Their lips swept by each other, the warmth of them radiating. She pulled back in that instant, chewing the piece slowly and thoughtfully while her husband leaned up against the plush seating of the carriage, gray eyes watching her closely. Harriet moaned lightly from the wonderful flavors brought out by the bacon. The young knight smirked in amusement, his eyes glinting playfully as he watched her.

"See, I told you Briar's butcher was far superior to the one in Vale," she purred teasingly, bringing up an old debate the couple had had months ago. Charles rolled his eyes and sighed dramatically.

"I told you, Vale's meat is wonderful. It must be an acquired taste," he countered, looking away in a playfully childish manner. Charles glanced back, smirking. "I guess the bacon was good though." Harriet wiped her hands off slowly and turned her attention to Charles, eyebrow arched, scarlet lips turned upward in a grin. Charles arched a brow quickly, cocking it above the other in confusion, even though he fully knew what she had on her mind. She shifted her position on his lap, rubbing against him softly. As she most likely had hoped, the movement prompted a light groan from Charles which passed through his lips slowly and softly as if he were fighting it back. Her chest pressed to his, closing the already thin gap between their bodies while her nails ran along his bare shoulders. Charles rolled his shoulder blades against her fingers, wordlessly expressing his pleasure as she did so.

Oh Lord, he could have stayed there all day. Why did he have to go to the summit, again? It was obvious the South was to go to war with the North. Years of studying government and tactics taught him that the building tension between the two families was the greatest sign that trouble was on the horizon. No longer did he try to lie to himself and say there wasn't a war coming. There certainly was battle in his future and, being the brash, reckless young man he was, Charles was not frightened at all by the idea. He welcomed the idea of proving himself in battle. His father still showed signs of all of the battles he'd fought. He looked broken so often and, even though that idea worried Charles, he seemed to think he wouldn't be so horribly affected by the war. In his mind, he had nothing to worry about. He'd fight for his family alongside his father, win, declare their independence, and finally prove he wasn't just a tactician; he was a warrior.

In the midst of his thinking, a soft hand came to lie against the area of Charles's cheeks that dipped inward slightly. Blinking rapidly in shock, Charles looked up to meet his spouse's gaze. Her gaze was now loving and admiring instead of lustful and sensual, as it was just moments before. She gazed into his eyes and he looked right back into her bright blue irises, smiling in tandem with her.

"Regardless of what happens today, I hope you know that I will never leave your side. The Queen may be my sister, but my loyalty and my heart lies solely with you, Charles. " Her voice held a sincerity Charles swore he had never heard before except for maybe their wedding vows. He was speechless. Not only was Charles surprised by the suddenness of the statement, he was also still digesting the intensity of this statement. She would put him above her own sister? It meant more to her to stay loyal to him than to stay loyal to her sister, the Queen? They were ideas he'd worried about earlier on his ride up to Briar on Serenity. He had worried she would be torn between her sister and her husband. But, hearing her promise she'd stay by his side caused Charles to literally sigh with relief. Harriet slowly brought her lips down upon his, resting her other hand on his other cheek. The love between them was powerful. In just a heartbeat, they'd gone from teasing to promising loyalty. Charles pressed his lips against Harriet's, his eyes closing in contentment. The young man wrapped his long, sinewy arms around the waist of his wife, drawing her close.

Reluctantly, he pulled away and stared back into her eyes, smiling happily. "Dear God...I could not have been blessed with a better wife," he cooed, his brow furrowed with unspoken professions of his love. The simple expression seemed to cry out,
My love, how can I possibly profess my love to you now? How shall I compare to this promise you made to me? Words can not begin to express the adoration I feel towards you. Charles pulled her close again, moving one hand up to cradle it behind her neck while the other stayed on her waist. Holding her close, the man's breath, coupled with his facial hair, tickled at her neck. "I love you...I love you more than life itself." Pulling away, Charles looked his wife back in the eye. "No matter what becomes of me, no matter what becomes of us...I shall always love you." He wouldn't bring up the fact that a potential battle could be the death of him...that would certainly ruin the mood. Regardless, he wasn't worried in the slightest about dying in battle.

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Harriet saw the relief on Charlesā€™s face, confirming that she had broached a subject that he had indeed been worrying about and luckily her statement seemed to put his heart at ease ever so slightly. She loved Charles with all her heart, she was a lucky woman to have a husband who didnā€™t wish to control her very being, he didnā€™t try and cage her, he encouraged her, for Harriet his wealth and family name did not influence her reasons to love to man before her, she would have loved him even if he had been a poor farm hand. Their characters were so similar that she often thought she were looking in a mirror, she could tell what was on his mind by the expression on his face, she knew what troubled him, what enticed him and what scared him, she knew him down to his very core and loved every inch of him. Donā€™t get her wrong, Charles was not perfect, nobody was, he was rash, stubborn and a down right scoundrel at times but he was also loving, tender and treated her as an equal and most importantly, he loved her, even her own faults. Poets could write sonnets about them and they wouldnā€™t even brush on reality, for love in poetry is just that, poetic, but to Harriet love in reality was far greater; the arguments, the struggles, the bitterness, the romance, the tenderness, the sensuality, all were common denominators in the building of their love. So was her affection for Charles that even her own fiery temper didnā€™t stand against him, the mere flash of his eyes or the touch of his hand whisked away any disdain or arguments she held against her husband.

Charlesā€™s lips pressed against Harrietā€™s, his eyes closing as his arms looped around her body, pulling her as close as was humanly possible, she sighed in utter content, her own eyes closing briefly. As he pulled away, their eyes met once more, his happy smile was infectious and Harriet soon found herself smiling along with him. ā€œDear Godā€¦I could not have been blessed with a better wifeā€ His words felt Harriet with immense joy, she knew her words had been received well, but she did not realize just how much Charles had fretted over her relationship with Amalie. Although it did sadden her slightly that Charles had even entertained the idea of her loyalty being with the Queen, she could understand where he was coming from, she often wondered about William and whom he would choose if war came. His brow furrowed and Harried watched him curiously, his mind seemed to be searching for words yet his lips remained static. He pulled her close once again, this time a hand coming to cradle her neck, drawing her in, her skin peppered with goosebumps as his breath, accompanied by his facial hair tickled at her slender neck ā€œI love youā€¦I love you more than life itself.ā€ Harrietā€™s heart leaped at his words, her breath catching in her throat, as she swallowed a wave of emotion.

Charlesā€™s pulled back slightly, once again looking into her now tear filled eyes, Harriet was not usually a woman who wept so easily, yet the emotion layered in his voice and the underlining eagerness in his tone, stirred emotions within her that joy and love a little too overwhelming. ā€œNo matter what becomes of me, no matter what becomes of usā€¦I shall always love you.ā€ His words brought Harriet to the edge, tears escaped down her cheeks ā€œand I youā€ she whispered into the quiet carriage, she was educated enough to know that wars meant death and wasnā€™t naĆÆve enough to believe that her husband would be safe in battle, knowing him like she did, he would most likely be leading a charge, he was an excellent tactician and warrior but even the most skilled and fierce werenā€™t exempt from death.

Harriet bit her lip and lowered her head to rest on Charlesā€™s shoulder ā€œI think I shall die if something were to happen to youā€ she muttered into the crook of his neck. She did not mean to dampen their spirits but the words just seemed to fall off her lips so naturally that she truly believed that if Charles were to be taken from her then she would soon follow him to the grave, they were put upon this world to find each other, she had no doubt than one could not exist without the other.

Quickly, Harriet did her best to regain her composure, swallowing the lump in her throat and wiping away the tears in her eyes, she sat back up straight offering him a smile and small laugh ā€œI am sorry for my sillinessā€¦but, lets not talk of what ifs and just enjoy the here and now.