Plots and Lies

                                    

                                          
───── ❝ Chapter Seven ❞───
All was peaceful for a moment until King Henry, consumed by a storm of fury, slammed the heavy doors of his audience chambers shut. Anger flashed through his eyes, a tempest raging within him. The unsettling revelation he had uncovered weighed heavily on his heart, for it pointed toward the guilt of none other than his wife.
As he marched into the sunlit room, his sharp gaze fixated on his trusted confidant, Charles, who stood alone next to Henry's ornate desk. "You have concrete proof of her affairs?"
Unfazed by the King's furious presence, Charles remained composed, his voice steady as he responded, "Written or witnessed, Your Majesty, we have the evidence you seek."
"You are sure, Charles?" Henry growled, a mix of desperation and incredulity in his voice. "She is with child now, I- even if you are completely certain of her guilt, I cannot sign the damning decrees until the babe is born."
Charles arched an eyebrow at the King's reluctance, aware of Henry's stern nature but also his compassion when children were involved. "We are certain, Henry. There is no doubt it is her. Yet, I understand your hesitation. Even if the child is innocent of all crimes, there are others in their family who bear guilt as well. Be cautious with your actions, for secrets must remain hidden, at least for a little while longer."
"More and more things are found and hidden from me with each passing day," Henry sighed the weight of his responsibilities and the web of deception surrounding him taking its toll.
Charles smirked, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. "Rest, Henry. You deserve it. Although, don't think I didn't notice your lingering glances toward the Empress while we talked. Perhaps you and the Imperial Queen would fit well together." With that cryptic remark, Charles left the room, leaving a stunned King in his wake.
Lost in a maelstrom of thoughts and shock, Henry wrestled with the realization that someone had already sensed his burgeoning attraction to the Imperial Queen – before his wife even knew. Eleanor, whose jealous gaze followed him everywhere, her possessiveness a constant shroud. He sighed deeply and picked up the letters Charles had left behind, bracing himself for the troubling contents.
As he read through them, the rage inside him threatened to overflow until he reached the final letter – the one that unleashed the floodgates of fury. It bore no addressee's name, but he recognized Eleanor's handwriting. The words etched on the paper ignited a burning hate that had been simmering within him, now blazing like wildfire. "𝔉𝔬𝔯𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔯 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔪𝔦𝔰𝔱𝔯𝔢𝔰𝔰, 𝔈𝔩𝔢𝔞𝔫𝔬𝔯," the damning message read, written with malevolence.
In a blind, seething moment of rage, Henry's grip tightened around the nearest object – an empty goblet – and he hurled it across the room. The glass collided with a stained-glass window, shattering it, and the morning light filtered into the room, mingling with the air of tension and anger.
As the shards of glass tinkled onto the floor, Henry walked to the fireplace and leaned on the cold bricks, his eyes fixated on the dancing flames. The haunting words of the letter echoed in his mind, tormenting him relentlessly. He felt betrayed and torn, his emotions roiling within him like a tempest at sea.
Memories of happier times with his wife intertwined with the newfound suspicions, creating an agonizing cacophony in his mind. Doubt gnawed at him, while anger fueled the fire that burned within. In that moment, Henry's once-steadfast world was shattered, and he found himself adrift in a dark sea of uncertainty and sorrow.
He knew that he couldn't stay in this emotional whirlpool forever, that he must soon make a decision that would have profound consequences. But for now, amid restlessness, he stood alone, seeking solace and clarity in the dancing flames.