August 23rd, 1613

The Cathedral of St Talis was the beating heart of faith within the capital city of Martel. A majestic structure from the outside, framed with beautiful buttresses and crowned with high spires that looked out across the sea, it towered above the buildings that stood around it, one of the grandest religious houses in Francia itself. It had borne witness to the founding of the Royal House of Tournai, centuries before; the coronation of many kings and queens through the years. This was where the populace gathered each seventh day to celebrate the Goddess' Mass under the stern eye of the Archbishop of Martel, with their king and the court.

Within, the high vaulted ceiling soared above a simple nave set with stone pews, side chapels set around an altar that was raised above where the congregation sat. Light filtered in through beautiful stained glass windows that depicted scenes from the life of the saint herself, tall candles set into sconces to bring light to the darker shadows of the house of worship. The doors stood open all day and all night, priests and priestesses going about their devotions at all hours. Yet, as the light faded and night came on, it became a place of quiet contemplation and solemn silence. The pews stood empty as midnight drew closer, bathed in the flicker of candlelight. The brightest lights stood about the statue of the Goddess herself, stone arms outstretched to gather the faithful to her beneath her stern smile.

There beneath the statue of the Goddess knelt the solitary figure of a man, head bent in somber supplication. He had been there for some time, lost in prayer, undisturbed by the comings and goings of the priests and priestesses who went about their business around him. All was quiet now, and still he knelt before the statue. Those who had taken the time to notice him knew it was the Duke of Lonnare who knelt there in the cathedral, asking for forgiveness or favor.

Gossip swirled around the young duke, rumors of supposed trysts with the king's niece, though nothing had been proved and no one had dared challenge the king's judgement regarding his favorites. Precisely why the duke was here, no one knew and no one asked, though it surprised a few who had thought the young man devoid of care for religious matters. To Charles, faith was a personal matter between himself and the Goddess. He did not place his trust in Bereth, who was only a man, but in the hands of the Goddess, who knew his heart and his mind better than anyone.

The sounds of the city outside were muffled to nothingness beneath the sound of quiet chanting, the gentle cadence of devotional voices wrapping about the duke where he knelt in personal prayer. No one moved to disturb him, and those few who had shared his quiet had long since left as the evening drew on into full darkness. Footsteps echoed on stone as another lord entered the cathedral, making his own devotion to the altar before settling himself on one of the pews. There was still a little time before they had to go, and no man who had any kind of respect for the Goddess would interrupt the devotions of another.

Charles did not question the will of the Goddess, but only asked that She use him as She would and that She be with him in all his endeavors, especially when it came to his enemies. He asked Her forgiveness for his transgressions and thanked Her for all she had given him, chiefly for the gift of his friends - for Christian, for William, for Alys, and even for Bess and for Cedric. He asked Her to bless his country and his king and to be with them in battle and grant them victory and eventual peace. He asked the Goddess to watch over his beloved and to always keep her safe, especially while he was away at war, and lastly, he asked for Her personal blessing and continued favor in all things he did.

With his head bent solemnly, he did not at first notice that he was no longer alone, that his dearest friend had joined him, though he had not interrupted, and Charles knew without asking that midnight was quickly approaching. He lifted his head at last and glanced up at the statue of the Goddess, who seemed to be smiling down on him with motherly affection. He had devoted his life to the service of the king and was eternally grateful for all the favor he'd bestowed on him, but deep down, it was the Goddess whom he thanked and whom he believed responsible for all his good fortune.

Seeing the duke's head rise from private contemplation, Will drew a slow breath in, finishing his own somewhat perfunctory prayers with silent lips as he sat forward. Unlike Charles, he didn't have a particular devotion for the Goddess, though he was faithful. But he had deep respect for those who loved Her with more fidelity than he. He gently cleared his throat, glancing at the candles set about the statue. By his estimation, he had been there twenty minutes or so. Though the Darnal house wasn't far from here, Father Adams was unlikely to remain past midnight.

Hearing Will behind him, Charles rose slowly to his feet, offering a final reverential bow to the likeness of a Goddess he had no proof existed and yet had always believed in with all his heart. He turned and quietly made his way from the altar to join his friend, his hands clasped at his waist. It had not been easy keeping their plans secret, especially when Charles was bursting with excitement. The day had seemed longer than most, dragging on endlessly, but the time he had long awaited for all of his adult life was finally at hand.

There was an infectious air of suppressed excitement lingering around Will as he rose to his feet, meeting Charles' gaze with a warm grin. His day had been filled with highly enjoyable secrecy, disappointingly easy to accomplish in the wake of his friend and sister's near disgrace. At Will's instigation, everything was ready - the old priest had been brought to the Darnal house to hear Alys' confession and give his blessing to a match he would soon be witnessing; Lady Darnal herself had been informed and had proven a great ally in keeping Alys out of sight for the entire day; Will had even secured a notary to draw up the marriage contract and ratify it then and there. Nothing could possibly go wrong, provided Will managed to get the groom himself to the Darnal house before midnight. He jerked his head toward the great doors that opened onto the city, turning to lead the way into the darkened streets.

For all Charles' excitement and anticipation, he was a bundle of nerves, not because he was worried they'd be caught before their plan was a success, but because he could hardly believe they were actually going through with it - that after all the years of waiting and hoping and longing, he and Alys were really going to be married. If anyone would be able to sense the man's nervous tension, it was his oldest and dearest friend. Charles said nothing, only nodding in acknowledgement and following Will toward the doors and into the street, taking a deep breath of fresh air after the hot, stuffy air that reeked so strongly of incense and sulfur that it only made his head spin.

She handed him the candle in return, taking the heavy chain into both her hands with due reverence for more gold in her grasp than she was ever likely to see again. "I will, Your Grace," she promised him with a nod and a smile. "And blessings on your wedding day, my lord. I'm told you make a handsome pair."

A smile found its way onto Charles' face at last, reminded why he was putting himself through all this. "Thank you. I will not forget this." He handed her back the candle and reached for the torch on the wall. "I should not keep my bride waiting," he said. Starting toward the tunnel, he peered inside with the torch to light his way.

"If she's anything like her brother, she'll make you pay for it if you do keep her waiting too long," Connie chuckled. Perhaps she was too familiar with her betters, but on a dark night, going about secret business, it was more of a comfort to have a smiling face and warm manner to send you on your way.

She had been right about the tunnel - it opened out behind the cavity that had been made in the wall, wide enough and tall enough that Charles could walk without stooping or brushing the walls on either side of him. It was a single passage that wound beneath the streets and, as Will had warned him, passed over the sewer at a close enough level that the earthen floor became unpleasantly damp and the air thick with the effluent smell. Yet this passed fairly quickly, and the tunnel turned once again, leading him toward another low cavity in the wall ahead.

Will was visible on the other side, crouched in wait for him, a candle in his hand. "Miss me?"

"Yes, like a wart," Charles replied sarcastically, as he reached the other side of the tunnel. He was wearing a smirk, despite the horrendous smell he'd just passed through. There was very little that could deflate his good mood now that he and Alys were so close to victory. "You're an *ss, you know that?" It was a rhetorical question to which he did not expect an answer. He placed the torch in a sconce on the other side of the tunnel, knowing he'd need it on his way back through.

"Oh, come now, Charles, you know you've always coveted my *ss," Will laughed teasingly, straightening up and backing away to allow his friend into the cellars of Lady Darnal's house. He grinned once again, apparently exhilarated by the cloak-and-dagger scheme required to get his friend into the house in the first place, and turned to lead Charles toward the far stone steps. "What do you think of Connie?"

"Yes, well....I couldn't have you so I decided to pursue Alys instead," Charles replied with a smirk, having fun poking back at his friend, who was almost always a good sport. He still owed him a punch, but then he did knock him off his horse in public, so he thought they were probably even. He fell into step behind Will as he further led the way. "I think if I were her brother, I'd insist you marry her, if you weren't already married, of course."

Will laughed, pushing open the door at the head of the stairs to lead him into a warmly paneled hallway, quite obviously a servants' hall but definitely the home of a well-connected, wealthy owner. "She's a good girl," he told his friend, despite the fact that Connie was several years his senior. "Her husband's an old fogey, but he was so pleased to get a child, he didn't bother to think about the boy's paternity." As if sleeping with a merchant's wife wasn't scandalous enough.

"Bloody hell, Will! You have a child with her?" he exclaimed, a little too loudly, only dropping his voice at the very end as he realized his mistake. Charles hoped he had not created any illicit children during any of his many affairs, especially now that he was getting married to Alys, but he'd tried to be as careful as he could be, and thus far, no one had stepped forward to stake a claim. "Does Christian know?"

Will frowned, shaking his head. "If he knows, he hasn't mentioned it," he said quietly. "And it was Connie's request that I not acknowledge the boy. He's growing up like his mother, thank the Goddess. No one has connected me with him yet." The unsteady sound of footsteps aided by a cane crossed the room above them, a door opened, and Lady Darnal was suddenly audible. "Lady Alys, come back here this instant!"

"It isn't midnight yet, is it?" Charles asked, arching both brows as he heard the ruckus overhead. He'd lost track of time at the church, and it had taken longer to get here than he'd expected, but he had arrived at last. His stomach coiled into knots at the thought of finally and actually going through with this. "She does love me, doesn't she, Will?" he asked, hardly believing his good fortune.

"Not yet, no," Will chuckled, the solemnity of discussing his personal scandals pushed aside in the amusement of seeing his friend suddenly anxious. "Don't be such an idiot, Charles. Would she be risking the wrath of the formidable Lady Darnal if she didn't love you?" Aforementioned wrath was in full swing above them, strident and to the point, as a second pair of footsteps described that lady's movement across the room to bring her wayward charge away from the door. "Not having second thoughts, are you?" Will asked his friend pointedly.

"No, no second thoughts," Charles replied, obviously nervous - more nervous than Will had ever seen him, even in battle. "It's just..." Charles frowned a little, unsure if he wanted to share his thoughts on the subject. He'd seen so many unhappy marriages at court, but then most of those had been arranged and not by choice. He wondered if it was selfish of him to want to marry for love, but Christian had never forced a match on him, and he now wondered if his old friend had been secretly saving Charles for Alys, knowing she would one day be free. "I want her to be happy. That is all."

Will's hand landed on his shoulder, firm and sure in the sudden quiet that descended as the door above snapped shut once again. "With you, she will be happy," he told his friend, absolutely confident of that. "Even if you hate each other now and then, I don't see how the love will ever leave you. But if you don't get up there now, I am going to punch you again."

Charles chuckled at his friend's threat in his last moments of bachelorhood. "As I recall, you needed more than a punch the day you wed Ursula," he reminded him. "Thank you, Will." He said nothing more than that, leaving the rest unsaid, the brotherly affection between them silently understood. "Shall we go then before Alys thinks I'm not coming?"

Will nudged Charles gently in the small of his back as the old priest began to address the groom directly, knowing from the adoring look on his sister's face that his friend had gone doe-eyed and deaf for the time being. "Charles Thomas Beauforte, wilt thou have this woman to thy wedded wife, to live together at the Goddess' will in the holy estate of matrimony' Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honor, and keep her, in sickness and in health, and forsaking all others, keep thee only to her, so long as you both shall live?"

Unlike so many who said their vows before the altar, now that Charles was getting married, he took those vows seriously, willingly pledging his life and his heart to the woman he was about to make his wife. "I will," he replied, uncharacteristically quiet in voice as he looked into the lovely eyes of his beloved. There was no mistaking the love shared between the pair and shared in the gaze they held between each other.

There was barely any need for Father Adams to repeat the question to Alys, but for the form of the rite, for her answer was ready on her tongue long before the last word was spoken. Her "I will" was warm and heartfelt, a far cry from the former vows she had taken as a child-bride to an old man. There would be no tears this time, and no fear of the marriage-bed. Just the rare love between bride and groom, and grudging respect of the witnesses who exchanged amused glances as the old priest went on. Though the vows differed for man and woman, there was a certain amount of enthusiasm in Alys' promise to be "bonny and buxom in bed and at board" - enthusiasm enough to make even the old priest struggle not to break his solemnity with a smile.

Even Charles could not help but crack a grin at the difference in their vows. He had no doubt she would be more than happy to uphold her end of the bargain, especially where the wedding bed was concerned, and though his eyes hinted at his amusement, he said nothing about it for now. Later was a different matter.

Father Adams took a moment to regain his sobriety before continuing, glancing to Will curiously as he went on. "I presume there is a ring of some kind?" he asked, and Will made a guilty sound of surprise, rummaging in the folds of his doublet hurriedly.

"Yes, yes, I have it here," he said quickly, withdrawing his hand to lay the ring firmly in Charles' palm with a grin.

Father Adams sighed, evidently a little weary of Will's constant smile, and turned his attention back to the groom. "To claim your lady, lay your ring on her finger, and repeat these words," he intoned, taking his time despite the late hour. "With this ring, I thee wed; with my body, I thee worship; and with all my worldly goods, I thee endow. In the love of the Goddess, Her wrath, and Her ruin, I take thee as mine own as long as life endures."

It might seem like a lot of pomp and unnecessary words to some, but to Charles, this was the most solemn moment of his life. He took the ring from Will - vaguely wondering where he'd gotten it from - and slid it onto Alys' finger before repeating the promise Father Adams recited, word for word, blue eyes meeting brown.

If he'd taken a moment to look upon the ring, Charles might have recognized what it was and what it had originally been intended for. A single blue sapphire, flanked with two clear diamonds, set within the delicate filigree of golden scroll-work - it had been discussed between them and commissioned by Will as a present to celebrate his sister's return to court, and yet he gave it up to be used as her wedding ring without a second thought, glad to have been able to give something more than his ingenuity to this secret wedding.

Amber-flecked brown eyes held to the piercing dark of his blue as Alys leaned into Charles, feeling the softness of Father Adams' hands close over their joined fingers. "What the Goddess has blessed, let no man tear down," the old priest declared. "I name thee man and wife." And with the rite completed, he finally cracked a smile. "And the sooner we sign these documents, the sooner I can be away to my bed."

And the sooner Charles and Alys could consummate their marriage. Charles held Alys' gaze a moment longer while the good father pronounced them man and and wife. He would no doubt notice the ring later and thank Will for his gift to their union, among other things. They both owed him so much. Charles was certain that, without his help, this wedding would not have come together as easily as it had, and Charles would be forever grateful and in his friend's debt. Charles waited until the priest was finished before leaning in to offer Alys his first kiss as, not just her lover, but her husband - the first of many that night and in the nights to come.

The kiss they shared was gentle, even chaste, more loving than lustful, proving that there was more between them than mutual desire to correct the rueful assumptions of Lady Darnal, at least. As Father Adams signed and ratified the marriage in legal terms with the notary Will had brought with him, Alys drew back from Charles, her expression more than a little touched with incredulous disbelief. "We really did it," she whispered in amazement.

"We did," he whispered back with a smile, touching his forehead to hers. "I love you," he told her, for the first time since they'd returned from their misadventure. He touched her cheek, lifting her chin toward him to capture her mouth a second and then a third time, in full view of those who stood witness, unafraid and unashamed of his deep and abiding love for her, a love he'd secretly harbored for longer than he could remember.

Her answering declaration was swallowed in his kisses, a gentle limp bringing her closer as she leaned into him, ignoring the quiet commentary going on over the legal documents from Will and Lady Darnal. A soft stroke of her finger against his jaw warned him as she drew back with a smile. "I prefer this to the big celebration the king wants," she admitted softly, nuzzling close. "I love you back."

Another throat was cleared behind Charles, and Will spoke up. "If you two are finished making eyes at each other, you should come and sign these. It'll be impossible to get rid of us if you don't."

"Yes, and he will fight against that in every way possible," Charles replied, stating the obvious. "I am anxious to leave for Lonnare, though I know not what awaits me there." Was Bereth's arm long enough to cause trouble for them there, as well" Charles wasn't sure, but he wouldn't have been surprised. "I wish you were coming with us, Will," Charles admitted with a frown. "We will miss you." He knew he spoke for both Alys and himself when he said that, though there was the matter of war before all that would be settled.

Will's smile was an echo of his sister's in that moment, the similarities between them shown by the closeness of their features when they smiled that particular smile. "I'll miss you, too," he assured them both. "But you'll only be barely a week away from us, and I've promised the boys a good look at Arindale. We'll be there so much, you'll be sick of us." He chuckled, pushing away from the mantle. "Don't let those thoughts worry you tonight. You have other things to occupy yourselves with. I'll be back at dawn, and we'll get you back to the palace, Charles. No one need ever know that it wasn't you in Connie's bed all night."

As he laughed at that thought, Alys turned curiously smiling eyes onto Charles. "Who is Connie?"

Charles rolled his eyes at his friend. "So, that's the plan' Let everyone think I'm dallying with a married woman while engaged to the king's niece" Brilliant, Will, but I'm trying to improve my reputation, not darken it." He tossed Alys a look that said, "Don't ask," as he kicked his leg down from the chair and rose to his feet. "Don't complain if we are naked and you need to wake us," he told his friend with a grin and held out his hand to clasp the other's once again in a gesture of friendship.

Will laughed at Charles' complaint. "No one saw you go into Connie's house who shouldn't have," he assured Charles. "And no one will see you come out, either. Trust me." In other circumstances, those words might have been facetious, but here and now, Will was secure in the knowledge that he could be trusted with their lives. He gripped Charles' proffered arm, his other hand on his friend's shoulder, sharing his grin. "I'll blindfold myself before I come in, if I have to," he promised laughingly, turning his attention down to embrace Alys once again. "Make it a night he'll remember, 'lys," he murmured in her ear, leaving her blushing through her smile as he straightened up. He nodded to Charles. "Well, I've a lovely lady waiting for me," he declared, "so I will take my leave. Goodnight, Your Grace. Goodnight, Lady Beauforte." With a last flick of his grin, he slipped from the room, leaving the newly-wedded pair alone.

"One old enough to be your mother," Charles muttered under his breath with another snort, though he wasn't really disapproving of Will's behavior, but rather, amused by it. It wasn't long ago that the two of them were placing on bets on which of them might win the favor of a lady's bed for a night or two. Somehow, though it had only been a few short weeks ago, it seemed like another lifetime to Charles. Charles chuckled at Will's farewell and reached out to cuff him playfully, "Your Grace, my *ss," he muttered laughing. "Don't let her husband catch you!" Charles called after him, shaking his head.

Left a little bemused by the banter back and forth between her brother and her husband - husband! - Alys' smile was definitely curious as she looked over at Charles, raising her hands to unpin the heavy net from her hair. "Connie would be his current mistress, then," she determined in quiet amusement. "How did you meet her, I wonder?" It might have been an accusation from any other woman, but Alys trusted Charles' fidelity to her without question. She was teasing him, as usual, and it was now a burden of his newly married status he would just have to get used to.

"It was nothing clandestine, I assure you. There is a tunnel in the cellar of her house that leads here. That is all," he replied as he turned to his wife - the word alone strangely exciting - and pulled her toward him, hands against her hips. He leaned in to brush his lips against her neck, even as she worked at unpinning her hair. "I have eyes..." He kissed her neck again. "...for no one..." Another kiss laid in a growing trail of kisses. "...but you."

Despite the gentle ache of her injured ankle, Alys had no concern in allowing him to draw her up onto her feet, knowing he would hold her steady even as he plied her skin with kisses. The net fell away, letting her hair tumble free as her head tilted for his ease, her hand rising to comb her fingers through his hair. "Mmm," she sighed against his ear, the sound tender as he drew her from patient affection toward the flaming rise of desire once again. "I should hope you have more than just eyes for me, dear heart."

He broke away from the trail of kisses to smile down on her, eyes bright with happiness. "Whatever shall we do now that we are husband and wife, Lady Beauforte?" he asked, clearly enjoying the sound of his name as it was linked to hers. She filled him with such joy his heart felt as though it was ready to burst wide open with happiness. "We did it, 'lys," he said said, borrowing her brother's nickname for her. "We're really married!"

His happiness was echoed in the brightness that glowed from her features as she curled her arms about his neck, her smile widening to a deep grin as the familiar nickname rolled off his tongue. "We're married," she repeated, giggling in amazement. "Goddess, we really are married!" Ignoring the burst of pain in her ankle, she jumped up to hug him close, her feet dangling as her lips brushed his cheek, her arms tight and warm around him. "And as to what we shall do now ....I do believe Will put in an order for nieces and nephews, didn't he?"

He caught her around the waist as she jumped up to hug him, spinning her around once and laughing with sheer, childlike delight. He set her down easy, remembering her hurt ankle, grinning like the happy madly-in-love fool that he was. "Hm, well, we don't want to disappoint his lordship, now, do we?" he asked, eyes sparkling playfully as he swept her up in his arms and carried her toward the bed.

Laughing as she was scooped into his arms, she let her fingers play over his cheek, leaning in to kiss the bruise Will had left on his jaw that morning. "That particular lordship might learn something if he was disappointed on occasion," she chuckled fondly, drawing her lips over Charles' skin with tender enjoyment.

Though there was still danger in being caught together in such a situation, this felt different, somehow. More real, no question of his presence being a dream. Of course, had she had a choice, she wouldn't have been getting married with a sprained ankle, but that little edge of pain only served to keep her firmly grounded. Charles was hers, her husband, and she was his wife. Try thought he might, Cardinal Bereth could not sunder that link now it had been made. They'd pulled the Chancellor's teeth with a simple marriage rite. And just to make absolutely certain of it, Alys was fairly sure the consummation might well take all night.

Charles had dreamed of this all his life - one of many hopes and dreams that he had wished would come true. First he had achieved his dream of becoming a duke, a man of the king, as titled and noble and worthy as any who'd been born to it. And now, he had achieved his other lifelong dream, one that had been denied him for too long - he had made his beloved Alys his, once and for all, their lives and hearts and names linked together for lifetime. All that was needed was the consummation of that marriage and an announcement to the king. The latter would come in time, when the time was right and the threat of war was over. But for this one night, Charles had no worries or cares but of this one thing: consummating his marriage to his beloved Alys. It would be his utmost pleasure to do so, to make love to the woman he had loved all his life, not as a rogue lover, but as her devoted and loving husband - to have and to hold for all the days of their lives.

((Married at last, even if no one else knows but them for now! War is coming! I promise! :grin: Many, many thanks to Charles' player all over again for being awesomely awesome!))