Edward, the Earl of Oxford, was more than happy to be reunited with Henry, the Earl of Southampton, his son. If Elizabeth had let him be executed he would have been devastated, especially since he had yet to tell Henry of their relation. It started out that Edward wasn't allowed to tell his son who he really was, but as Henry got older it turned into the fact that it was just too hard to admit; but now that a secret had been revealed to Edward it would be even harder, but he had to do it, now was the time. It wasn't the most ideal thing to find out, that your former lover, the love of your life, turns out to be your own mother and that you had a child together. But Edward loved Elizabeth nonetheless, it was a true love and nothing could ruin that, though it was information that was hard to bear. He had unknowingly committed incest and now he had to live with it, it was a bit crippling and more than a bit upsetting but there could be no changing the fact. And now, as he looked at his son, he began to feel that maybe he could commit it again willingly, if this young man would allow it. Their relationship had always been platonic; it shouldn't be too hard to push it even further. He had always felt a strange spark whenever he was in his son's presence. He wasn't sure if this disgusted him or not, of course it did, it disgusted him with Elizabeth, it was unsettling, but it was what he felt. If it happened so easily with his mother then why couldn't he feel the same way about his son?

After the two men had pulled away from their embrace Edward grabbed Henry gently by the arm and pulled him carefully over to a nearby bench. Edward sat down with the younger man, the gorgeous Earl of Southampton, and looked him in the eye before taking hold of his hand and gripping it firmly. He took a deep breath, taking a moment to gather his wits, before speaking, "You and I have always been close." He paused, searching Henry's eyes before continuing, "But I feel it's time for me to explain why that is."

Henry's features became confused and he shook his head, "There is no need for explanation. You and I are close because you're an amazing man who I admire. We're great friends. Ever since I first met you I've looked up to you. I am so grateful for your friendship."

The Earl of Oxford closed his eyes for a moment, taking in those sweet utterances. He opened them again with a sigh, "No, that's not what I mean. What you say is true, but there's more than that." He shook Henry's hand a bit, gearing himself up, "I should have told you a long time ago… You're my son."

There was nothing but pure eye contact, both men staring intensely at the other, their hands never disconnecting. No sounds could be heard, everything went silent; they saw nothing but one another, some weird kind of tunnel vision. Edward took a shaky breath in, the moment a bit too profound, the feelings too raw. He swallowed in anticipation as to what Henry might say; he prayed he'd speak soon.

Henry couldn't take his eyes off his best friend, the man he had always confided in. He should have guessed long ago that their connection was far too immense to be just of coincidental friendship. Edward was his mentor, his shield, his source of comfort and strength. Now that he knew the truth it all felt concrete, every experience they had shared together. It had more purpose. He too swallowed, gripping his father's hand tighter, trying to convey without words how much this confession meant to him. Finally he was able to get words out, "I wish I had known sooner…" He felt his eyes begin to tear up, "I never would have followed Essex." He shook his head, attempting to shake off the shock, "Why was this information kept from me?"

This is where the real hard part was and it frightened Edward to the core, what words were the correct ones to use in such a situation? He thought hard for a moment, his head pounding. "I was ignorant to who I was as well," he chose to say, "I didn't know who my family was." He swallowed again. "I fell in love." A flash of the first time he saw Elizabeth shot through his mind. "The woman I gave my heart to betrayed me. Everything was complicated." He let his eyes close again, this was it, "I've recently been informed that the woman I've been in love with, the woman that I conceived with… was my own mother, the queen." He didn't dare open his eyes right after admitting that.

That threw Henry for a spell, that couldn't possibly be true. He wasn't upset; he wasn't disgusted with Edward, it wasn't his fault, he understood that. It just felt odd. It was confusing to think about. Incest… It wasn't something people had to think about often. But it shouldn't matter, what was done was done, they were both there now, and what they needed more than anything was each other. Then he realized they were still holding hands and a strange feeling shot through him. He didn't want to explore his reaction any further but it was of no use to fight the inevitable, he would think about it eventually. If Edward, his father, had done such a thing, whether he meant to or not, would he be so opposed to doing it again? It had already been done once, why not once more? But then he thought if he could, could he possibly commit such an act? He figured that since he was a bastard incest child then there was no reason he couldn't, life had already damned him before he was even able to damn himself. He spoke softly, "Don't hide from me; open your eyes. It's alright …father." It felt liberating to say that, to address him as whom he really was; his chest swelled at the sound of it. "There's nothing to be ashamed of, if anyone should be ashamed, it's God."

Edward's eyes flashed open, he was surprised at the words but he spoke softly, "Don't be blasphemous." It was quite hypocritical for him to say so since he didn't care much for the idea of God anyway. He gave a sad smile, looking down at his son's hand in his, "I'm so glad you're my son."

There was an awkward silence; neither knew what else to say. But words weren't needed, the energy radiating from each of them was enough, it was calming in a way, soothing and comforting. Their eyes eventually found each other's again and they stared into one another's gaze, this time with understanding. In that moment one word escaped Edward's lips, "Henry." Not Henry his student or comrade, but Henry his son, his flesh and blood. Something about hearing his name come from Edward's mouth like that triggered an urge in Henry, a sporadic impulse. He moved closer without really thinking. His eyes conveyed a message that Edward never would have thought they would, it was of love, but not the kind that one would expect. But Edward showed no protest in his own eyes so Henry took that as a sign to fulfill his unexpected desire, the desire to kiss the man in front of him. In one swift yet incredibly slow motion movement Henry's lips were upon Edward's.

Edward's brow creased but he was not repulsed, he was entranced. In reaction he brought a hand up to Henry's cheek, holding him fast, making sure their lips remained in contact. His heart thrummed at an incredible pace, his heart and head overflowing with bliss. He could only hope that Henry felt the same; he did. Images began to flash through Edward's mind of past occurrences with Elizabeth until they began to turn into flashes of past moments with Henry, until eventually they faded away to the current moment, this knew experience with Henry. Nothing could have been better than it was right then. The kiss was soft, sweet, and gentle; it was one of the most heartfelt in existence. It was unspoken love, but it was the most powerful way of expressing it. He already knew Henry loved him, as a friend and as a father, but this solidified that knowledge, and he embraced this form of certainty with everything he had. He was never going to let it go. And all he could do was return it.