maroon/// charles brandon [the tudors]

just like in Elysium

"Poor Dreaded Persephone, glum on her throne. All the riches of the earth, yet she wished for the sun to be shown," Genevieve muttered as some ladies helped her get ready that morning. Her father was sitting in the room with her, over in the sitting area, as he just watched his daughter.

"Are you dreaded Persephone? A maiden stolen away to become a queen?" John asked, looking over her. Seeing her in her mother's dress, she looked just like her poor mother. That brought a sad smile to his old face.

"That would make Suffolk The Receiver of Many. The man to steal Kore away from her home. Kore, of course , was sold by her father," she said coldly, looking over at her father. The look she gave could kill as this day was one that she had been dreading. Therefore, she felt similar to dreaded Persephone.

"Your poem didn't make any sense," Albany added, standing up to walk over behind Genevieve, taking the necklace to clasp on her neck. "It may have rhymed, my dear, but it didn't make sense."

"I know, I could not think of a better rhyme," she said, feeling the cool metal on her neck. She looked like a haunted bride, but this was supposed to be Elysium if she was Persephone. Paradise on earth this was supposed to be. But it felt more like a gilded prison, and she was the only prisoner in this shining cage.

Sleep did not come easy for poor Charles Brandon, yet why was this so difficult? Perhaps he loved Mary Rose with all of his heart and he did not know is Genevieve could fill that void. Yes she could be a step mother to his children already, and a valid insight into the Scottish court, but to him. What use did he need for another wife? A woman to keep his home, a body to fuck? He could get that anywhere else, but what made this girl different? Other than the fact his body certainly desired her, from their few touches and longing gazes, he needed to know her in the at most carnal way. He wanted to trace the freckles on her body and learn every inch of her skin. He needed to know what it was like to see her come undone at his hand.

"You look a mess, Charlie," Henry said, snapping Charles out of his lust filled daydream. He looked over at the king as he looked at his dress in the mirror. He did look like a mess, at least in his eyes, but this was a day that needed to get over quickly. Too much pomp and circumstance when all he wanted was a chance to truly be alone with Genevieve.

"Right. Lost in my mind. Thinking of how my bride may be feeling," he said, half the truth, as he did want to know. He wanted to see her, and to steal her away from all of this. What she must be thinking right about now, if she was thinking about him in any way similar that he was thinking of her.

"Ha, I could go sneak a peek at your bride for you, if you desire. She is definitely beautiful. Must be from her mother's side, with the French, nothing like many of the Scottish women," Henry said, which caused Charles to let out a laugh. He had a point, as she looked like a goddess on earth, and her father well, her father looked like her father.

"I can wait. We should be leaving anyway. Come on Your Majesty, hopefully this is the last wedding either one of us will be attending for a while." Boy if only he knew.

A small crowd gathered, mostly those that Henry brought from his court, to watch the joyous occasion that was a wedding. The bishop of Windsor Chapel stood at the front of the aisle with Charles. Light murmuring all around while everyone waited for Genevieve to arrive. And it seemed like she was definitely making people wait.

She was scared. She was scared and alone, despite her father next to her, she felt alone. Gen would be marrying a man that she didn't know, and it couldn't be undone. It probably could be undone. His good friend Henry did it, but still. This was permanent, at least by her eyes. Her father gripped onto her hand as they sat outside of the chapel. A few people had started to gather outside, perhaps residents of Windsor.