Title: Fortune's Favours
Pairing: Charles Brandon / Henry Tudor
Rating: R
Story Summary: King Henry and his favorite duke get a little closer than best friends normally are, complicating matters even more than they are already. Covers season 1 & 2.

Disclaimer: The Tudors belong to Showtime, I have absolutely no claim on the characters, the storyline etc.

A/N: I know the Tudors are in many points not exactly what you'd call historically accurate, still, in this fanfiction I decided to go with the Showtime version to avoid confusions.

Special Thanks to:

First, I'd like to thank all of my dear readers - you guys who have who have always kept me writing and commented on my chapters. I cannot nearly express what such a lovely support means to a writer, how I squealed with joy about each of your comments I read. And I met a lot of lovely Tudor-addicts while writing this and made a couple of awesome friends. And it is definitely no understatement when I say that the fact that I actually finished Fortune's Favours, is actually thanks to you and your constant support. Thank you so much, it was a pleasure!

A very special Thank You goes to Narya86 and Bunnster. Even though not being a 100% Tudor addict, Narya has read all of my scenes immediately after they were written and encouraged me whenever I felt unsure about a certain scene or a development in my story, as well as beta-read almost all chapters while coping with my nagging questions about "is not ready yet?". Thank you for that, honey! Bunnster (which I also got to know during the course of writing this story) had been a constant source of inspiration and we've chatted for hours philosophing about the relationship of Henry and Charles and coming up for ideas for each other's storys. Moreover, she has always been my "living history book" about everything Tudor as well as also beta-read a couple of chapters. Thank you so much, I hope we manage to meet in person when I'm back as well!

One last thing: A couple of people have asked me whether I'll write another Tudor or Charles/Henry story. However,I'm afraid to say I cannot answer this at this point. In three days, I will pick up my backpack to go and travel Australia and New Zealand for another two months, so I will have rather limited Internet connection again and definitely no time for writing. Afterwards, it just depends on what I feel like. I would love to continue working on some other,older projects who deserve some attention. I also had some vague ideas for 1-2 other Tudor stories, but nothing concrete, so at this point, I don't want to promise anything.

Okay, so I guess I should prattling now and let you enjoy the last bit of Fortune's Favours. Here it is:

Epilogue

One Thing

The horrified screams were still echoing in my ears, even though they had fallen silent long ago. Now there was a dead silence, in the literal sense of the words, the only sounds being the small creaking when the wind moved one of the bodies hanging limply from the quickly erected gallows. Dozens, hundreds of lifeless corpses, as far as the eye could see, men, women, even children. The sight alone was enough to make one's stomach churn, but the fact that I knew I had given the order for all these deaths, this mindless slaughter... it was more than I could bare.

Father, forgive me my trespassing against your flock...

Glassy eyes, bare of any life, seemed to stare at me, accusingly, as I wandered aimlessly through the rows, disgusted of this place yet unable to turn away and just leave. It was their fault, I tried to tell myself over and over again, they chose to rebel against their king and disobey his commands. But when I looked into the pale face and the dead eyes of a boy my own son's age, I knew this was just a lame excuse.

"I'm so sorry," I whispered quietly to the boy. "I didn't want this to happen but I had no choice!"

"Of course you had a choice, liar!"

I flinched, turning round, the hand at the hilt of my sword, just to face another body hanging from one of the other gallows, a young woman in an elegant, pigeon blue dress and a white coif. A pair of pale blue eyes, glassy and dead as the others, yet watching me with visible mockery.

"You always had the choice," Anne repeated disdainfully, eying down on me, her head tilted in a sickening angle, "but you chose to do what he wanted in the end, because you were so anxious you might lose him this time, as so many times before."

"Just as you did?" I asked, slowly retreating and terror creeping through every fibre of my body.

A short laughter, without any trace of humour. "Yes, as I did. Just that I never had the choice, I couldn't give him what he wanted. And one day, you'll fail him as well and who knows what he'll do then?"

Her arm came up in a strangely stiff motion and she loosened the rope around her neck, her body limply falling down to the ground. For a few seconds she remained like that and then her body began to move again, crawling over towards me in horribly edgy movements. Around her neck, there was a thin red line running like a necklace, the spot where her head had been cut off one year ago. The dead eyes gleamed in malicious joy when I backed away, repulsed and horrified, but unable to run since it felt as if the air had suddenly turned into a viscous mass not allowing me to move any faster.

"How does it feel to be a murderer, Your Grace?" she whispered mockingly. "To know you slaughtered hundreds of men, women and children just to keep him satisfied... a man that is so self-obsessed by now that he will never be satisfied and never wastes a thought on what those close to him feel or think? Do you really think he loves you nearly as much as you do love him?"

"Shut up," I yelled at her, though backing further away. "You have no idea, you are dead!"

"Oh, I'm not," she corrected me softly. "Anne is dead, but your guilty conscience lives on until the day you die and until that day, I'll be in your dreams, every night when you close your eyes." She threw back her head, laughing, a shrill sound that sent an ice-cold shiver down my spine. "You expected to go to hell after you die, Charles Brandon? Far wrong... because hell is right here!"

And then I saw them coming. Hundreds of bodies, slowly coming down from their gallows and slowly crouching up towards me with the same sickening wrong motions, staring at me accusingly and reaching out for me. I wanted to run, but there was nowhere I could run since they came from everywhere and icy terror was stunning me. Ice-cold hands were reaching out for me, grabbing my clothes, pulling me down and I could do nothing to fight them off.

It was then that I started to scream.

I woke up by the sound of my own, desperate gasp, finding myself sitting straight in bed before I even realized what was going on. Still I felt the touch of the icy, dead hands all over my body and shivered violently, for the first moments unable to shake off the reminders of the horrible dream. The dream that now had haunted me for a couple of nights, in countless variations. And the most horrible thing about it was that it was not just a dream. The lifeless eyes, the dead children, the gallows, all this had actually happened and the sheer reminder of it turned my stomach upside down.

Listening to the sound of my own rapid breathing that seemed to calm down only slowly, I let my eyes wander through the quiet bedchamber which was lit only by the silvery moonshine falling through the windows and the glowing embers in the fireplace. A peaceful sight, and a harsh contrast to the unspeakable horrors of my dream, the horrors that had been ordered by the man now sleeping calmly next to me. Henry was lying on his back, his limbs sprawled on the sheets and a small smile was playing around the corners of his mouth. For a moment I wondered what he was dreaming of, but then I wasn't sure if I really wanted to know.

A chill ran down my back and I realized I was covered in sweat, an uneasy reminder of the horrible nightmare. The best thing would probably just to crawl back under the blankets but I was pretty sure I wouldn't be able to sleep again for quite some time, because when I closed my eyes I would see their lifeless faces and the glittering mockery in her eyes again. And so I prepared to get up instead, but I had hardly made it out of bed when a hand grabbed my wrist. I flinched heavily, the memory of the dead hands grasping at my body still vivid in my mind.

Walk out the door, your eyes filled with tears
Or stay and confront me and face all your fears
Linger in silence, neither distant or near
It's not going to change a thing

"Where are you going," Henry complained sleepily, "stay here, it's cold."

"I couldn't sleep," I replied, "and I should go before the morning anyway so..."

An unwilling growl interrupted me. "It's in the middle of the fucking night, Charles... there's still plenty of time for you to leave in the morning."

A weak smile crossed my lips at these words. "That would go down in history as the first morning I ever spent with you where you just let me leave."

Henry chuckled, still drowsily. "Can you blame me? You've been away for such a long time..." Gently, yet determined he pulled me back onto the sheets, crawling up to me and trapping my body with his own. One hand caressed my shoulder, the other one my face and I sighed softly when his voice whispered in my ear. "I missed you, darling duke. Do you know that?"

Though the uncomfortable feeling in my stomach remained, the dream still present in my mind, my resistance just melt away by the warm body pressing against mine and the so familiar scent that was Henry. Yes, I'd missed this scent and I'd missed the man as well – my Henry, not Henry the King. Even though these two men had become so entangled in recent years that it was hard to separate them these days. My hands found his sides, gently exploring the so familiar body, even though I already knew every muscle, every sensitive spot. Sometimes I thought I knew his body better than I'd ever know what was going on his mind.

"It was you who sent me away..."

Lay down beside me and question my faith
Or hold me with all the love we have made
Share all your secrets, or hide them away
It's not going to change a thing

"I know," a small kiss was pressed onto my jaw, "and you did so well, my knight. I couldn't have sent anybody else for this."

Again the image of the hundreds of gallows with the dead bodies appeared before my eyes and I felt the sickness returning. Why was he praising me now, while he had before my last journey to the North accused me of being too soft with the rebels, implying that my own judgment was clouded by still being a papist at heart? Or had he actually never said it, was this just the way that bastard Cromwell, who had his fingers in everything these days, had put it to make me return and conduct the terrible example they had expected me to? I hadn't had any chance to ask Henry then and even though I could have done it now, I refrained from it, too afraid of the answer he might give me.

He obviously didn't notice me being distracted, or he was just too busy with caressing my neck, ear and jaw with small bites and kisses and muttering sweet little cajolements and obscenities into my ear. "My duke, my knight in shining armour… you looked so dashing in that, you know? I bet you've stunned these peasants in the North just by your mere sight… the men being intimidated and the women all getting soaking wet under her skirts, hoping you'll chose one of them and fuck her right behind some dirty shed or something." A soft laughter tickled in my ear. "What do you think they'd have done if they knew their lewd king down in London would hardly leave his duke enough time to get out of his shining armour when he returned, to ravish him like there was no tomorrow? Would probably not be very helpful in putting down the rebellion, would it?"

"I don't think so," I replied with a half-hearted laugh. Right now the people in the North were rebelling against the crown because of the destruction of the monasteries and their religion, still, most of them did not blame Henry but his counsellors, like Cromwell. However, if it ever became public that the King of England was a sodomite, spitting on God's laws with his very acts… I didn't want to even think of the horrible consequences.

His fingertips ghosted deeper, caressing my thighs, my stomach and even though my thoughts were still running wild, my body reacted to the caresses as usual. It had just been too long and now it insistently craved its right. He obviously had something similar in his mind, however, his next question went in a direction that put me on alert.

"How is your sweet, little wife, by the way?"

"She's well," I answered warily. I didn't want to think about Catherine now, since my marriage was another thing that had given me some worries during the last few weeks. Besides, I had a bad feeling where this question was heading.

"I think she should come with you to court soon. That way, I can have you close without keeping you away from your family duties and besides…" one hand sliding unexpectedly between my legs drew a gasp from my lips, "I'm missing female company in my bed, and the three of us had so much fun together last time, don't you remember?"

Well, you did, the correct answer would be, but you didn't have to deal with the consequences afterwards. Catherine had sworn after that night that she never wanted to return to court again and I knew that in her heart, she blamed me for letting that night happen, as well as she blamed me for slaughtering the rebels – probably both not without reason. No, it was really no understatement to say that our marriage was not at its best and Henry was not innocent in this.

Lie here and talk of whatever you want
Or dare to compare all the things we've done wrong
What care the world when we're all dead and gone
It's not going to change a thing

"I'll talk to her," I muttered, hoping that he would just forget the issue once Jane had delivered and he could satisfy his need for female company elsewhere. In the meantime, I'd probably have to come up with some excuses about Catherine being unwell, but I really didn't want to think about this now. Unfortunately, Henry was surprisingly attentive this night, considering his lusty state.

"Everything alright, Charles? Have you lost your tongue?"

No, I haven't, Henry, but thanks for asking, because actually nothing is alright. I'm having horrible nightmares every night about countless bodies you made me slaughter while you sat back in London, getting excited over the upcoming birth of your son. You made me a murderer, Henry, and destroyed my sanity as well as my marriage by making me do this – this and the fact that you couldn't keep your hands of my wife, which is why she hates you now as much as she probably hates me. And I gave it all up willingly, did whatever you wanted because I was so afraid and I'm still afraid to lose the one thing that means the world to me, which is your love…

"I had a terrible nightmare just before you woke up, Henry. I'm sorry."

"A nightmare?" The teasing hands were back, caressing, arousing and then there were lips on mine, so gentle and comforting and I swore to myself, if he asked me now, I'd tell him, tell him everything about the countless bodies hanging down from the gallows and haunting me, about Anne with the red circle around her neck crawling up to me and mocking me…

"Well, let's make you forget about it, shall we?"

The picture is painted, the colours are bold
One for each season of life, I suppose
It no longer matters, the story is told
It's not going to change a thing

His lips crushing mine, now more passionate, freed me of the need to answer this. And even though there was a tiny sting of disappointment, I chased the feeling away and tried not to think anymore, about nothing but his body moving over mine, his hands entangled in my hair, my hands clutching his shoulders, our limbs entwining, moving in and together in a so familiar, comforting rhythm. It wouldn't keep the thoughts and dreams away for long, but for the moment it did and I was grateful for that.

And maybe it was better that I didn't tell him, for it wouldn't have changed a thing anyway.

It never would.

It's not going to change one thing.

~ Runrig – One Thing ~