G R A C E L E S S

The Short Lived King

He became the death of duty.

His hands trailed over her dress, tugging it off.

She no longer cared for what was expected of her, and he in turn did not either.

Isabeau helped him lift off his shirt and he kissed her for it.

Perhaps history would be kind enough to remember their love, but kinder still to forget about her entirely. For who would want to honor the foolish, Frankish female.

"Edward, we'll get caught." She whispered into his mouth.

He nodded, but continued to kiss her; pushing her into his bed of furs. She looked beautiful like that, with her dark hair sprawled across the bed; bathed in bright evening light of day. No one was ever more beautiful.

"Let them catch us." The king smirked.

To him, the only sensation in the world that mattered was the feel of her body against his.

"Let them see that we belong to each other." He whispered into her mouth this time.

Her delicate hands weaved through his golden hair like a sunflower reaching for the sun, causing him to release a low groan from his mouth.

Neither were motivated enough to let the other go when the doors flung open and his advisors walked in.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The whispers and the stares were enough to make her crumble on the inside, but not on the outside.

"I am a daughter of Charlemagne."

She kept repeating it in her mind as she walked towards the throne. It was a mantra that had always served her well. One of the few things her mother had left for her to cling onto like a child.

In truth, it felt like she was walking towards her execution.

Isabeau tried her damned best to keep the bile from rising in her throat.

Six fortnights had passed since she had last seen her Edward. His stepmother's plots and conspiracies had kept them apart until this very moment.

If she could not see him in private, she would approach him in public.

She had always loved the book of Esther, but it was only now that she realized what the ancient woman had had to go through in the courts of Persia.

She could feel the glares Edward's stepmother directed at her slightly swollen belly. She resisted the urge to want to cover it with her hands.

The young woman straightened her spine out once more. She would be like Esther. Courageous and full of grace in the face of certain death.

As if a spell had been broken, the sudden silence made the king look away from his advisor. His brilliant green eyes caught on her dark grey ones.

No one dared make a sound as the king descended from his dias and made his way towards the girl.

Like Esther, she had dressed plainly and let her long hair fall loose. She let her natural beauty be enough to warrant the grace of her King.

It was only when he saw her belly that he raced towards her, inappropriately taking her into his arms and kissing her for all to see.

"You're with child?" He asked quietly so that no one else would hear.

Isabeau gave him a sweet smile and nodded.

"My Lady is with child!" Edward celebrated and the nobles of the court cheered for his happiness. After all, it was not uncommon for a king to take a mistress.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Their happiness was short lived, however.

Isabeau remembered having a bad feeling that day, begging her King not to go out hunting and stay with her instead.

She sorely tempted him but his council had insisted upon the hunt for diplomatic purposes.

"As much as I wish for it, my lady, I cannot only be a doting father."

The babe had started kicking at the sound of his voice and Isabeau grabbed his hand and placed it there.

He stared at her belly in wonder.

"You've given me a strong son." He grinned.

The members of his party shifted impatiently with a low murmur of complaints.

"I'll be back soon, my love." He kissed her forehead, taking in the scent of her hair.

And he was back.

The last time she saw her Edward was when he rode in to meet his stepmother, who offered him his last glass of wine.

It was like she was embalming him before he was stabbed to death on his horse.

Isabeau knew that the fate of her child solely rested on the fact that she needed to flee back to her home country, leaving everything she had ever know behind her like the dust on a road.

And so, she fled.