Full Summary:: England and France are on edge once again and everyone at Court can tell. King Francis, with only a purpose of luring King Henry into a state of peace, sends the Gypsies to his Court. Henry accepts this gift with hesitation, and grows to take a liking to the mysterious, talented Gypsy people. They have brought a whole new life to his Court. However, Henry isn't the only one that sees the beauty in these people — Charles Brandon finds himself in a unbinding trance with a particular Gypsy woman. But when a certain man by the name of Claude Frollo turns up in England, he will stop at no means to pursuade the King to finish off the likes of every Gypsy in the kingdom by framing Clopin and Esmeralda, making Henry believe she was only sent by the King of France to seduce her way through Court and take down his kingdom from the inside out. Will Charles Brandon be able to find a way to save Esmeralda from execution — or will Henry's rath strike again?

A/N: a total crack-couple! Esmeralda and Charles Brandon? yeah, this idea had been on my mind for quite some time. i love both characters dearly, and i thought: hey? why not mash up the stories a bit?

so, this is what you get! and frankly, i've been wondering if anyone else is as curious as i am about this crack-couple madness . . .

anyway, a few words: this does take place around season 4 of the Tudors. however, while writing, i found myself picturing Charles the way he looked in season 2-3, which was around the time i thought he looked the best. (ha, like he ever looks anything but!) so, feel free to picture the man in whatever form — beard or scruff, long hair or short hair. either way. the only reason i did not place these events in any other time frame was because the whole French-English tension fit perfectly and Charles was going through that mess with his wife, Katherine and etc etc. it just worked, ok? lol. i'm sorry if you disagree.

i really do home at least some one enjoys this. oh, and i do not own these characters or the movie/show!

A Gift From France

"You're Majesty, the French Ambassador."

Henry glanced up from his place on the decorated throne. His blue eyes became alert at the announcement that came from his doorman. The King watched as the doors opened and the Ambassador made his way through, chin held high with pride. This sort of attitude made Henry grit his teeth together, his jaw twitching in the process. "Ambassador." Henry managed.

Ambassador Charles de Marillac gave a low bow, "Your Highness."

"What news have you for me today?" Henry asked, eager to get this conversation over with.

The Ambassador cleared his throat, "King Francis would like to offer his Majesty a gift."

Henry barked a laugh, "A gift? And what sort of 'gift' is this?"

"A token of peace, Your Majesty." Charles kept his eyes to the floor while in the presence of the King. At least, during this particular meeting. "It seems that King Francis believes he might be able to work for a certain point of agreement by, perhaps, showering Your Highness with gifts from his country."

Henry leaned forward in his large seat, his lips curving with amusement. "You can tell your master I will not back down with just simple French perks. He can keep his gifts—and I shall keep my dignity."

The Ambassador swallowed the lump in his throat at the tone the King took with him. "Your Majesty, might I add that this is not just any gift. King Francis has presented something that not just the royal family may enjoy—but your entire Court, as well."

"Oh?" Charles gave a small nod and a tight smile. "And what am I inclined to do in exchange?"

"Nothing, Your Highness." Charles answered, tight lipped. "My master only asks you enjoy what he gives and, that in time, our countries might be in peace once again."

Henry sat back in his throne with a sigh. "That is asking a lot, Your Excellency." He paused and thought, starring holes into the floor beneath his boots. "I suppose I may accept this mystery gift." The Ambassador rose his eyes to meet the King's then. "But this is just the beginning and send word to King Francis that this does not conclude our business. I have given grace and I do not intend to make hobby of it."

The Ambassador gave a grateful bow and made his exit, the King watching intently until the wooden doors were shut once more. A gift? Well, there was plenty need for a lighter mood among his Court. The tension between France and England had caused much glum throughout the kingdom. It was time for a change.

The sun had set and the Court's people were dancing happily along each other. Alas, it did not seem to be as alive as Henry had once seen his Court. There wasn't much he could expect. His queen danced along other women, including the Duke of Somerset's wife, and that was enough. She was joyful and brightened with a pleasant smile. Her long blonde locks swayed along with her movements and the King could not seem to decline the smile that grew across his aging features.

The Court was decorated with fine banners and food was laid about its tables in a great buffet. The music played wistfully and overtook the crowd's laughter and conversations. Many drank their wine while they joined in a dance and others played games.

Near one of the long tables, Edward Seymour stood stiff and watched over the crowd—particularly his wife. The one and only person he seemed to have the hardest time trusting. His thoughts trailed on but were put to a halt when the Duke of Suffolk made his way beside Edward and offered him a goblet of wine. "Your Grace." He said calmly.

Edward forced a smile. "Thank you." He took the wine gratefully and took a gulp. Charles Brandon noticed the amount his fellow Duke had taken and cocked a brow.

"Are you feeling alright?" He asked, not that he rather cared for Edward Seymour, but it was still polite to ask.

"What? Oh, yes, I am fine, Your Grace." Edward lied. "It seems I am deep in thought this night." Edward kept his eyes out to the dancing crowd, shooting invisible daggers at his loathing wife.

Charles followed the glare and saw Anne Stanhope, craning her head back as she laughed at what one of the men of Court had said. He took another glance at Edward and then back at Anne. Nothing ever seemed to change around here. Perhaps he wasn't the only one having wife-dilemmas.

"Have you heard, Your Grace?" Edward spoke up, taking another gulp of wine. Charles listened and the two men kept their eyes roaming over the crowd as their conversation continued. "His Majesty has accepted a gift from the King of France." Edward chuckled a bit.

Confused, Charles looked over at Edward. Was it the wine talking? How is it he hadn't heard of this news? "What are you talking about?"

Edward licked his wine tainted lips and shifted his weight casually. "King Francis has offered His Majesty a gift—one of which he accepted. It seems Ambassador Charles de Marillac has worked his charm once again." There was a pause and Edward cleared his throat. "Nevertheless, Your Grace, I'm sure the decision was a good one and may there be many more good ones to come!"

Charles gave a short nod with a fake smile plastered across his face. He had doubts. He was greatly unsure about this. A gift? What sort of gift? There was a bit of worry that grew in the pit of Charles' stomach. The King made his own choices, yes. However, that didn't mean he always thought them through first. Not that Charles himself was a master at such a task—but regardless, this was the King Francis he was accepting the gift from.

The two large wooden doors closing in the space, opened, and the French Ambassador stepped through with ease. He made his way down the isle as people stepped out of his way. The room grew awfully quiet and Charles—still standing along side Edward and his own response to the arrival of the Ambassador—watched thoroughly.

The Ambassador stopped a few steps away from the King on his throne and bowed. "Your Majesty."

"Ambassador!" Henry said, his chin resting against his hand.

Charles de Marillac had a smug smile across his face, his hands neatly folded in front of him. "I have come baring the gift from His Highness, King Francis." The Ambassador stepped aside and outstretched a hand towards the doors that had already shut. "Your Majesty—the Gypsies."

Everyone's attention turned to the sudden outbreak of people, scattering through the opening doors, dressed in odd clothing. Their skin was a brown color, off all shades, and they came in sizes from big to small. Some carried instruments while others wore masks with strange faces. Music began playing and the people—the 'Gypsies'—weaved their way through the English people, as if rehearsed.

Charles looked over at the King and the Ambassador, standing calmly and watching the scene before them. Henry looked skeptical, the opposite of Catherine Howard, now sitting beside him with wide eyes and parted lips. Charles tore his eyes away from the King and Queen and exchanged a look with Edward, who looked just as skeptical as Henry.

Another strange looking man with dark features, a large nose, and hair on his chin made his way forward, a wide grin across his face, but all the more mysterious with the mask surrounding his dark eyes. He removed his hat and made a low bow, jumping then back into his straight stance and said, "Your Majesty! What a pleasure!" He said, the grin never leaving his presence.

Charles, keeping his eyes on the skinny man from his place, instinctively moved his hand down to the hilt of his sword. These people weren't like he had seen before—and he'd been many places.

"And who might you be?" Asked the King, narrowing his eyes slightly.

The man put a hand across his chest humbly, "I'm Clopin, Your Majesty, King of the Gypsies!"

Henry looked at the Ambassador and then back at Clopin, laughing earnestly. "King of the Gypsies, you say? Well then! Have a drink, my friend!" Henry smiled and gestured for Culpepper to hand the guest a drink.

Looking back out across the people, Henry saw they were laughing and dancing all the more. Gypsies were everywhere, challenging his people to let loose and enjoy themselves. The Gypsy people had cards with them, which they moved around in a very odd fashion. They juggled knives and breathed fire. There were men that were hoisted up on tall, narrow sticks, appearing to be giants. Many of the women had their faces painted in odd colors—purple lips and golden cheeks. Henry noticed their clothing wasn't as collected nor fashionable as the French. "You say these people come from France, Ambassador?"

Ambassador Marillac looked up at the King, "Yes, Your Highness." He answered, uncertain of the reasoning behind the sudden question.

"You lie." Henry snapped, but not necessarily angry with the Frenchman.

"I—" Marillac cleared his throat, quickly changing his tone. "The Gypsies are, indeed, from France—"

Clopin let his fingers wiggle in the air, "You are correct, Your Majesty—we are not from France. We live in France, and we do enjoy its pleasures. But we did not originate there."

Henry held the Gypsy's stare and remained silent for a moment, sitting back in his throne while he picked at the hair on his cheek. Marillac looked at Clopin with a stoned face, never making it seem he had been cut off by the likes of a Gypsy, but holding himself like a true man with much power. "Where is it then, that you come from?"

"Egypt." Clopin smile grew a bit wider and he took a sip of his wine.

This caught the King's interest. "Egypt?"

Clopin gave a sturdy nod and looked out at his people, entertaining at their best. "May I introduce you to my dear friend—" Clopin looked back at the King, a sense of amusement in his eye and a grin across his face. "—Esmeralda."

Charles had been listening intently and noticed there seemed to be a pause among the Gypsies. They had stopped and turned to face the center of the crowd. The English people looked around, seeming highly confused. Charles braced himself for what was about to happen next.

When the music stopped next, Edward looked around, "What do you suppose is going on?" He asked in a whispered tone.

Charles hadn't a clue. "I—"

Suddenly, all eyes widened at the large purple cloud of smoke. Noises of awe echoed through the English men and women, some covered their mouths in utter shock. Guardsmen braced themselves, but stood back when they only saw a woman.

A very beautiful woman.

This Gypsy was wearing a red dress, complimenting her vibrant emerald eyes. She wore a gold hoop through one ear and two others on her wrist and ankle. Her lips a perfect ruby color against her own brown skin. The King studied this woman as she danced, fast and smooth movements. Her stomach rolled perfectly in her dance and she did several jumps and spins. Other Gypsies joined, but the focus seemed to be on her only.

The King, however, was not the only one that seemed to be eying down this woman—this Esmeralda. Charles Brandon kept his head high, refusing himself to melt into the seductive heat seeping out from the Gypsy. Her face alone seemed to catch every man's eye in the crowd. Her dance was enough to have them on their knees.

Edward began to speak over the new fast pace music, "She is . . . cunning." He had hesitated with the last word, but didn't stress over it. He finished off his wine and watched the performance with low eyes.

Charles watched as her thick, dark curls bounced throughout the dance. Her feet were bare and light against the wooden floor. With a few spins and turns, the woman was up on a table and flipped in the air, landing in the exact spot next to Edward.

Startled, Edward tried not to stumble back, but almost failed. Esmeralda saw through his stern expression and wrapped a silky scarf around his neck. Edward's lips parted and she gave him a small kiss on the cheek, unraveling her scarf as she swayed away back towards the people.

Charles couldn't help but chuckle at the look across Edward's face. Edward had tried to look unfazed, but hid a smile towards the ground. His cheeks rose with color and he appeared to be a bit wobbly in the knees. Charles patted the Duke on the back and looked back to the Gypsy. She gave a sideways glance and granted Charles a wink, making his eyes dart away instantly.

When the dance ended, the King clapped with a large smile across his lips. The Queen looked a little uncertain at the King's affection but clapped regardless. Ambassador Marillac seemed pleased and thankful the gift from France delivered quite fine.

Esmeralda bowed in front of the King and smiled, putting herself at Clopin's side. The man gave a small smile and pushed back some of his—rather tired looking—friend's heavy curls from her naked shoulder. Her chest was heaving for air, but she didn't let that let her look weak in the presence of royalty. She had been taught well. Everything was to work for her advantage. "Beautiful, my friend." Clopin whispered, placing his hand at the small of her back.

Esmeralda glanced up at him, "Thank you." She replied and put her attention back towards the King of England. "Your Majesty."

Henry was smiling, chuckling softly to himself. "Marvelous!" He looked out to the crowd, "Was it not?" The people clapped and shouted in agreement.

Clopin took a step forward and removed his hat once more. "We thank His Majesty for allowing us to perform here in Court. We pay thee much respect."

"You'll have to return tomorrow night then!" Henry responded without hesitation. "I am sure we would all look forward to seeing more of your people—the Gypsies."

A/N: please let me know what you guys think! thanks! :)