June 15, 1525. That was the night I lost all love for the King of England. When his hand breached my salt-stained cheek, that is when I saw the King in his true form. A man who lays hand violently against a woman is no man at all, yet an animal with a dangerous temper.
How could he expect our love to come back from this? He was a jealous man, pressured by his peers in a climate of patriarchy. And I, just a vessel to the heir to the throne. We all know I was not the first woman to carry the child of the King. In fact, the following day, June 16, Henry appointed his six-year-old illegitimate son Henry FitzRoy, Duke of Richmond and Somerset. He was the bastard son of his mistress Elizabeth Blount, and the only illegitimate offspring the King has ever acknowledged. And when our son is born, he too will be acknowledged and accepted as a Duke, although the King promises he will be the future King.
What a tale. How easy it is for the King to set his thoughts in action. This feared me greatly, and until recently, I was always cautious of the King's temper, but now I bare his strength across my cheek. When a man hits me, he doesn't soon do it again. But there is no escaping him, for I am a white dove confined to this cage. This castle.
I told Maria that I did not want any visitors for the next week. Hopefully, my purple flesh will dim by then... I don't want Tyson to see me in such a way. I fear his love for me often clouds his best judgement. He may actually pierce the belly of the King.
Twelve days past and I remained internment to my room. The burning heat had left my cheek, but the colour remained dark. I tried to distract myself with needlework whilst I hid in my room. Suddenly a thunderous commotion began outside my bedroom door.
"You're going to have to let me in at some point! Why is she not allowed to leave?" Tyson shouted. "Is she even still here or has He sent her away?" Their discussion was soon drowned out by an even louder sound, a sound I could only describe as twenty kitchen pans falling to the ground.
I grabbed my red velvet shall and headed towards the door before Tyson put himself in chains, only for this tall, shaggy-haired stallion to stumble into my quarters. "Tyson, you shouldn't have come here."
"Scar," he breathed, falling to his knees, "you're still here." He placed my cold hands in his and kissed them longingly.
I grabbed him and brought him to his knees, just as my guards stormed inside my room and took hold of Tyson. "Thank you, gentlemen, but there is no need for this. Thank you for obeying my orders, but it is time I allow the outside world in."
"Are you sure Lady Scarlett?" The hefty fair-haired one spoke, gripping tighter on Tyson's arm with one hand, and rubbing his sore cheekbone with the other.
"Yes I'm sure, thank you, Simon."
They nodded and stumbled back out of my dim-lit bedchamber.
I look over towards Tyson, whose brood eyes travelled every inch of me. I placed my hand over my cheek and hid beneath my long russet hair.
Tyson's jaw clenched, as he stormed over to my bedroom window, and thrust the curtains aside to let the natural white light reveal my purple shadowed cheek.
"The King?" He probed, his eyes focused and stern.
I nodded in response, "It was my doing, I questioned him and our babe inside me."
"A man-" Tyson paused, "a being's actions are entirely their doing. Do not blame yourself for the poisoned mind and corrupt nature of the King." He whispered, whilst taking out a dagger from his side belt and heading towards the outside halls.
"Tyson what are you doing," I reached for his hand, and he shook me off.
"What I promised. I'm getting you out of here. If there's no King, there's no need for you to be locked away here."
"That's absurd! And if there's no King by your hand, there's no you and I don't want to live in a world where you are not by my side." I staggered.
He pulled away and pointed the dagger towards my direction, "You are protecting him because you love him. Somewhere deep down inside you there will always be a place for the King. Scarlett I will not let him destroy the one thing I love the absolute most in this world."
"Tyson, please -"
"Him or me?" Tyson shouted.
My god, what had I done. My affair with the King had finally driven my lover wild. "Tyson you're scaring me," I gasped, pacing backwards.
Tyson looked at his hands, realising how mad he had become as he threw the dagger to the floor. "I cannot lose you Scar. Every time you enter his bed, I feel you drift farther from me. I'm a man mad in jealousy, mad in hatred that the one person I want to protect most... I can't. Do you know what that does to a man?"
I ran over to him, and pressed myself so tight against him I swore we moulded together as one. "The King has us both in his grip. But one day, we will fly together, fly far away." I promised, kissing his hands.
I must deter his hatred and passion for revenge into something good, something I was getting quite used to doing to keep men at bay. I began unbuttoning Tyson's almond vest, throwing it to the floor.
"Scar, please no. I don't deserve your affection. I showed you the same aggression as the man who keeps you here. I'm losing myself too," Tyson breathed, trying to resist me.
Of course, that was an arduous task. I unlaced his collar with his permission, exposing his broad shoulders, and kissed them softly at first before locking my lips around his earlobe, sucking gently.
He looked at me, cautiously. I could see in the way his eyes traced my body that he wanted all of me, but we knew that we couldn't. Not because it was forbidden, hell no. We need to protect the babe as I entered my last few months of pregnancy.
But there were still other things we could do to pass the long cold nights. I tied up my brown, wild curls with a piece of ribbon on the dressing table, and slipped off my pale slip. I stood before Tyson, completely exposed.
He admired my swollen belly before pulling me into his chest. Our kiss was long and passionate, and soon we grew hungry for each other as if no time had passed at all.