blessedcharlesv:
@henriofvalois
For a while Charles listened to the lullaby of bees humming in the berceau of flowers and plants, and watched through the glass the tender, blooming foliage which indicated the advancement of spring. His principal attraction towards the greenhouse lay in its perfect use as a solitary sanctuary; the change in temperature brought a wave of strength to his form, but with it arrived a stinging reminder he remained a foreign element in the English court. Spain promised him the dazzling warmth of the sun, the hum of birds and bees, lulling him into gentle bliss; Charles became overwhelmed with lassitude, and retired to a stone bench.
“Your grace.” Two hours of rest had stolen over his figure, and he awoke, glad to see the sun had not yet declined out of sight. His mouth parted to interrogate the guard who disturbed his slumber, but his eyes followed the hand pointed north; all inquires were rendered dead, and the Emperor fell mute. Boyhood had been stole from Henri; the bright young creature was a gentle child no longer. Had their history not been fraught with villainy and abomination, his eyes would have been dazzled by the sight of the fair young man - so changed from the timid, frightened boy whose countenance never ceased to be dominated by childish expressions. As if moved by the strength of Charles’ cruel gaze (borne not out of anger, but out of reflection) the guard moved to procure the youth, whose quiet reverie had yet to be poisoned by the presence of his enemy. “Courage, young Dauphin; I shall not seek to declare your person my hostage; no longer shall I be God’s darkest angel.” Charles words were muttered beneath the sound of approaching feet, though his eye was vain to only raise enough to half glimpse the figures; rejection by the prince would be fair, but devastating.
Henri sought only to clear his mind in the gardens. There was too much gossip at court, idle and ill-advised given that many courtiers whispered treason from their tongues as if it was nothing more than honey on their chins. He thought mayhaps he ought to bear pity for the English King, but would never utter such a thought aloud. No doubt, King Henry had some purpose for his absence and Henri would leave the benefit of such a fact to his father. He walked alone, dismissing others who would squawk endlessly at his ear despite apparent protests. He did not wish to discuss the beauties of court, nor the prospects of a hunt, nor even the weight of the new sword his father had procured for him.
Now, however, he wished he had been wise enough to bring along someone if for nothing more than an excuse. The heavy footsteps of the Emperor’s guard drew from him an ache deep in the pit of his stomach. Unbidden, his ribcage restrained like a woman’s corset, constricting his breath despite outward appearances of indifference and quiet contemplation. Emperor Charles, before him in the flesh. It did not feel so long ago that he towered above Henri, humiliating the little French prince with the clothes he saw fit to have him dressed in, frightening him into perfect behavior for a foreign court. Though he was a man grown, Henri could not help but feel small. Hoping to compensate for such feelings of inadequacy, he lifted his chin, pausing as if in thought to collect his strength. He had been the spare when he’d traveled to Spain, the spare without a mother who still wept for France’s Claude on many occasions, but now he was the Dauphin of France, the heir to a dynasty, and he would not tremble before his former foe.
“Non, your grace.” Henri responded, his voice clearer than he had anticipated. “I would not desire to see you as such, nor do I feel threat in your presence. Your ambassador has met me with warm invitation and spoke of your desire to see me. I do believe our precious Lord sees fit to provide opportunity, and nay I am but a man incapable of denying merciful Christ as such.” He prattled, building confidence as he bid his time. He stopped, the guard hovering nearer than he liked, and instinctively positioned his frame so that he felt more control. “I have grown much since last you harbored me in your home, non? What think you of the boy you knew, grown before you?”








