#duke of suffolk | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

The KCSC sent more than 20K requests to delete posts related to prostitution and porn to Tumblr from January to June 2017.

athenepromachos · 2 years

Text

Who here has watched this scene (on repeat for errrrr research purposes) and angled their heads to try to see if there is ummmm..... glimpses of that which should not be seen... be honest ...🍌🦑

Can we have a show of hands ?? 😉😉😁

#henry cavill #charles brandon #duke of suffolk #tudors #the tudors #henners nude bitz #nudey boi #nude charles #i have no shame #yep i watched on repeat #S1 #oh yeah #nom #🍌🦑🍌🦑🍌🦑🍌🦑🍌🦑🍌🦑#brandon bde #yum yum #🍑🍑#big round peaches 🍑 😋

256 notes · View notes

scorpiobitch95 · 3 years

Text

Summary: When he spies her from across the court, Charles knows he has to have her. He can’t wait for her garnet lips to be his.

Pairing: Charles Brandon x Female OFC (no body type specifically described, not named.)

Word Count: 5.3k

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, smut, food play, sex (p in v), cursing, oral sex (f receiving, mentions of m receiving), bodily fluids, cursing.

Author’s Note: This work is for 18+ only, no minors tolerated. You consume content at your own risk.

This one… wow it got away from me, but it just kept flowing. Charles is 😍😍😍.

@cavillsthighs gave me the brilliant idea to continue this “Lipstick Kisses” theme for more of Henry Cavill’s characters… so I am doing just that! Shoutout to her for the support and for editing this for me! LOVE YOU, BESTIE.

Taglist: @justaboringadult @greensleeves888 @cavillsthighs @beck07990 @summersong69 @myloveforhenrycavill @kebabgirl67 @starstruckkittyangel @marytudorbrandon

✨ If you wish to be added to my tag list, send me a DM or comment on this fic!✨

Lipstick Kisses Series | Master List

*No permission is given for reposting my work, copying it, or claiming any ideas or parts as your own.

Please comment and reblog if you enjoyed!

Garnet

The night their hands grazed one another during the King’s birthday celebration was the first time he succumbed to her magic. It was the first day of a week-long pomp and circumstance in honor of His Majesty, just the way the King preferred. The heavy smells of food and wine wafted throughout the room where the court was alive and thriving with guests engaging in lively conversations. In the middle of the hall, a dance was in full swing. That’s where Charles Brandon and his soon-to-be secret lover found themselves that evening: right in the midst of the excitement.

Her gown was ornate and shining golden in the soft torchlight; her lips were stained with the rich wine and berries she had indulged in earlier in the evening. The use of cosmetics was not a commonly accepted practice at court, so instead, for evenings like these, she tugged on her lips with her teeth and stained them with her wine to achieve her desired red-hue. Call it an alter-ego, call it her real personality, she couldn’t be sure, but she relished in the feeling of confidence that her garnet-toned lips inspired. One thing was certain — it made her stand out from the crowd.

Their hands met briefly, only for a moment, but the fleeting moment burned their skin white-hot as if they’d each mistakenly grasped a glowing ember. The heat surprised them both as their eyes met with exhilaration and curiosity, but before they could soak in one another’s appearance, the dance directed them to other partners. Charles couldn’t bear to look away from where she twirled, nor could she tear her eyes away from his dashing face. From the second their eyes locked, they knew they needed to devour the other.

After the dance transitioned to group chatter, Charles made his way across the hall to where she stood, but fate was not on their side this particular evening. He was quickly swept away to tend to an urgent matter with the King, as his presence was always immediately requested when something was amiss.

He glanced back at her as his presence was all but forced out of the room; like a moth to a flame, his eyes managed to find her in the chaos of his exit. Her devilishly red smile could have illuminated the entire castle.

He saw her again the following night. Charles was thankful, for the first time in his life, for the several layers of clothing that his outfit required. His erection strained against his pants, intense and throbbing as his breath quickened at what he witnessed: her succulent lips wrapping around the tender flesh of a small dark cherry, her teeth delicately piercing the skin. Blood surged to his groin as he watched her with lustful intrigue. The cherry juice stained her pillowy lips, tinting them a deep, rich red. He couldn’t take his eyes off her beautiful mouth.

The bustle of the party-goers was thunderous, but their energies drew together, creating a serene silence that only they were privy to experience. Her gaze locked onto him from across the room, her eyelashes fluttering slowly as she smirked at his noticing her stare. Once she had the handsome Duke’s attention, she rubbed the cherry across her lips, her dancing eyes never leaving his. A sly grin spread across her face as she wished to tease him further. Her tongue snaked out and traced where the juice had stained. His mouth hung open, dumbfounded, as she giggled quietly to herself.

Biting down on another cherry, her tongue caressed the curves of the fruit as her nimble fingers plucked away the stem.

He continued to watch her gently devour the fruit and take sensual sips of her wine while laughing with the ladies that surrounded her. Charles felt his arousal hardening further the longer he observed. Glancing in his direction every few moments, a warm flush colored her cheeks, but she didn’t let her gaze falter at his staring.

Her boldness made his heart race.

He needed to know that her kisses tasted as sweetly as he imagined.

He needed those garnet lips pleasing him, needed them covered in his essence.

The desire he held for her grew as he spied on her throughout the evening, and the more he observed her, the more he realized: this lady was not innocent. She was roping him in under her spell, and he didn’t even know her name.

Communicating without speaking, she quietly excused herself from the room as Charles did the same. They quietly snuck away to an abandoned hallway, far from the dinner festivities.

They found each other in the dimly lit space, their bodies were driven together fiercely as their lips met in a tango of their own. Hands roamed, moans escaped, and tongues collided as they conversed in the only way that made sense.

It was taboo for them to be alone together, though they found ways, regardless of societal rules. Strolls through the garden would soon find them hiding behind mazes of shrubbery, grasping and gripping each other hurriedly as their lips met in a pure frenzy of need.

Their cozy alcove at the edge of the forest also served them well; they used it for their secret picnics. These picnics were chocked full of the best wine, fruits, cheese, and bread they could find as they laughed and delighted in each other’s company. They were also full of stolen kisses and risque romps in the plush grass. Many times in this hiding spot, she had pleasured Charles to his release, loving the way his warm thick manhood felt between her swollen-from-kissing lips. She couldn’t get enough of teasing him with her tongue and savoring his taste with every gift of his salty nectar that he provided.

On an evening where the King was distracted by the most recent conquest in his revolving door of lovers, Charles was off duty from orchestrating the next chess moves for the English Army. This evening was similar to previous ones, he admired his secret lover from afar as she drank her wine and eyed him from across the room. Their affair had developed and had been happening for several weeks after that initial night. Once again, she held one single cherry and darkened her lip with it as the sweet flesh met hers.

Dancing ensued again, though this time she got to keep Charles as her partner. As they danced, her slender fingers entwined a parchment note between his thick ones. When the dance came to a close, they parted ways and she quietly slipped out of the boisterous room.

Finding a corner to fill his cup and read privately, he glanced at what she had written —

Your chambers, meet me there. Half past the hour.

Don’t be seen.

It was signed, not with her name, but with a garnet kiss print, plush and juicy red.

The thrill Charles felt in his chest as he snuck out of the party he knew was nothing compared to what the evening would ultimately entail. He was surprised at his restraint over these last days — he was not the patient type.

He’d never wanted anything so badly in his existence as the way he wanted her. Wanted to bury his head between her silken thighs. Wanted to hear her screaming out his name as her pleasure stole all of the energy out of her body. Wanted to nestle himself in her sweet pussy and feel her squeeze his cock the way she had squeezed his fingers when he was plunging into her only hours before.

Entering his bedchambers, numerous candles illuminated the room in a soft glow. The gold, black, and silver threads in the duvet and the tapestry shimmered brilliantly under the soft candlelight. She laid out on the mahogany four-poster bed and had propped herself up sensually on the lush pillows. Her body was bare, save for the wine-dyed corset pushing her opulent breasts together, creating delectable cleavage that had no choice but to spill over the top of her lingerie. She laid with her legs curled to one side, the side of her thigh modestly covering her naked lower half.

A relentless hunger engulfed his senses. Incense burned and filled his chambers with a transformative fragrance as Charles began to stalk his prey.

She watched him from the elevated bed, her eyes following his movements carefully. Warmth flooded her body as he drew nearer; she clamped her thighs tighter together to find friction to soothe the arousal growing within her.

As Charles made his way to the bed, he was once again mesmerized by her luscious lips and the color that was swiped across the delectable flesh. He was sure that she’d delighted in more cherries and wine before meeting, but as he crept closer, the pigment looked more intense than he’d previously seen. Charles smirked at the boldness of this beautiful woman. Quirking his head to the side, he questioned her silently but struggled to maintain composure as her bosom caught his attention.

God, how he wanted to slide his tongue and his cock in the valley of her succulent breasts.

Her teeth grazed her lower lip, suckling on it lightly as she looked up at him through her darkened lashes.

“I thought I could enhance our evening, my love. I think you’ll quite enjoy the look of my kisses against your skin.” She leaned forward to pick up his hand from where he stood at the edge of his bed, flipped it to view the underside of his wrist, and placed on it a gentle red kiss.

“Ahh, so you’ve indulged in a little more than simply fruit and wine, then,” the Duke chuckled.

“I will neither confirm, nor deny…” she giggled. “...Though it is made from cherry juice.” Her eyes darkened as she caressed his hand. “All the better to mark your skin with… do you find it to your liking, Your Grace?”

“Mmm…you’re lovely.” His thumb brushed against her bottom lip and she kissed him there, too, capturing his thumb with her mouth and gently licking his fingertip. Charles hummed as she placed a single hot kiss on his open palm, causing him to shudder beneath her warm touch. “I’m going to need to see these fuckable lips on every part of my body.”

Seeing the garnet kiss stain on his skin drove her wild, and any shyness she previously had left her body entirely. “I think I can oblige those wishes... Although, I wouldn’t want the court thinking I’ve bewitched you with a little lip varnish. You won’t turn me in for witchcraft, will you?”

Her hands roamed his clothed chest as she rose to her knees, starting to undress him. “You’re under my spell, but there isn’t any magic involved, sir.” She smiled cheekily as she removed the last of his ornate clothing.

His hand reached to brush the delicate skin of her cheek. His fingers were warm and soothing against her soft skin. She struggled to keep her composure; every touch he placed on her skin made her become more of him than herself. “We are keeping many secrets together, my sweet. What is one more? I could be the keeper of your secrets forever, you know.”

She giggled at his words but didn’t reply, not sure whether to take them seriously.

Never having seen the Duke in his full glory before, she marveled at his strong physique. Her fingers had a mind of their own as they glided across his skin, the dark curls on his chest entrancing her as she memorized his body.

His patience was impeccable; letting her do whatever she pleased. Charles’ paramour stood from the bed and circled his form, wishing to see every part of him.

“I need you to trust me, Your Grace, as I mark you here..” she placed a kiss on his shoulder blade, “and here..” in the middle of his back, traveling downward and tracing his taut muscles underneath her delicate fingerprints, she found herself face to face with the backs of his broad, muscular thighs. “I love knowing that in this room, you’re all mine...” her lips pressed to kiss his firm thighs and glutes, leaving cherry-hued prints in her wake.

“I’m all yours for as long as you wish to play, my dear.”

Her hands traveled up and down his flesh, teasing him as he reached to pour the decanter of red wine into their two chalices. Dark red lipstick kisses decorated Charles’ back as she explored and worshipped his sculpted form. She stood and wrapped her arms around his middle as she added more tender kisses to his back. Seeing her marks on him sent her arousal into overdrive. She brushed her sensitive breasts over the bulging muscles of his back, cherishing the feel of his hot skin on hers.

Grabbing her delicate hands, Charles invited her to sit at the oversized vanity that occupied a corner of the suite. A large mirror stared back at them as he handed the wine to her; she sipped sensually, watching his every move through the reflective pane.

“My Lady, if I may, I have something for you.” He opened a drawer in the large table, pulling out a long box tied with a red ribbon. Opening it to show her the contents, inside she saw a beautiful gold-plated necklace with a large jeweled brooch and many smaller adornments. The gilded gold surrounded striking red garnets and shimmering pearls.

A gasp left her lips at its elegance, and Charles’ mouth curled into a provocative grin at her response, as if he were a cat who’d caught a mouse. “I went to a jeweler the other day, and these rich garnets caught my attention. I couldn’t help but think of you. I had Sir Thomas craft this to accent your already exquisite beauty.”

“Your Grace... Charles… it’s beautiful... but why does it remind you of me?” Charles leaned down, clasping the necklace behind her neck. His fingers barely brushed her skin, erupting goosebumps on her body, and laid it upon her smooth décolletage.

Wickedness glinted on his sculpted face as he captured her neck with his rough kisses and breathed out, “The garnets reminded me of your plush, berry-soaked lips that I love to devour.” Her eyes caught his gaze in the mirror. Charles clasped his hands with hers, watching his Lady’s cheeks flush with warmth at his words.

She brought their combined hands to her lips, kissing the back of Charles’ hand, once again marking him with the lipstick autograph that matched her new gift. He was entranced by her beauty, watching her intently and soaking in this moment as she succumbed to her happiness. “Hmm… tell me more, sir.”

Kissing along his darling’s neck, he continued, “And the pearls.. may I just say that I was divinely inspired.” His chuckle pulsed around her; she could feel it all the way down to her core. Arousal dampened the skin between her legs with every sound emitting from his throat.

Her head cocked to the side and her eyebrows lifted in mischief, awaiting the continuance of his response. The Duke leaned close to her, kept eye contact in the mirror, and growled lowly in her ear, “The pearls were inspired by the way my cum dribbles from those deep red lips after I mark you as my own, my sweeting.” The breath that she didn’t know she was holding expelled from her mouth as she felt her need grow between her thighs.

Charles laughed darkly as she took a large gulp of wine to increase her bravery, asking him, “How could you possibly know that garnets are my favorite? How do I look, Your Grace?”

“Hmm… positively corrupt.” The Duke grinned and his fangs caught the light, making her blush profusely. The necklace fell just above her breasts, accentuating their curves and making his mouth water. Greed took hold of him as he stared at her; it was as if he hadn’t eaten in days and she was to become his last meal.

He led her back to the bed, guiding her to sit at the edge on her knees, facing away from him. Charles unlaced the ribbons of her sinful corset, releasing the remainder of her velvety flesh. He couldn’t help that his hands instinctively went to the curve of her lower back, running his fingers over her hips and tracing up her spine. Her skin felt like pure silk underneath his rough fingers. Grabbing the bowl of fresh cherries from the bed tray, he urged her, “Go and lie on the pillows, my love.”

He watched her supple buttocks sway as she climbed to the middle of the bed, lying on her back propped up as she had been earlier. Charles settled himself between her knees. Taking his turn to pierce a cherry with his teeth, he bit into a small fruit, tossed the pit aside, and immediately went to work, tracing the juicy berry down her collarbone and over her erect nipples, licking the juice he left behind.

The cherry was the light unto his path, down her breasts to her navel and then her thighs and heated center, using his tongue and lips the entire way. He found himself face to face with her delectable slit.

He’d been waiting to taste her all day.

Opening her thighs wide, he leaned in to suckle her glistening folds, teasing her lightly with the tip of his tongue.

Meanwhile, a violent thunderstorm raged outside. The thundering booms and splatters of rain on the window panes created a perfect blank canvas for the moans coming from his suite. Her body writhed on the satin beneath her as he toyed with her sensitive flesh.

“Tell me how incredible I make you feel, sweeting... Scream for me. Succumb to me. Tell me how glorious my tongue feels on your clit.”

Charles squeezed more cherry juice on her pussy, lapping it up greedily like a starved man. One of his many talents was knowing exactly how to make a woman squirm beneath his touch. Her moans reverberated off of the walls of his chambers. All five of his senses were drunk on her.

As his tongue stroked sensual circles around her clit, Charles pressed two fingers into her wetness, plunging and curling them with vigor. He hummed, his low gravelly timbre vibrating her nub. Her legs quivered and shook and she tried to back away as the stimulation built in her core, but he reached a free hand wrap around her hips, pulling her closer to him. Squeezing her ass, he pleasured her intently, giving his all to hear her moan and gasp. Charles refused to part with her sweet juices, having found the fountain of life between her thighs.

Watching her naked body come undone and listening to her moans, the Duke himself began to pant, gaining intense pleasure from pleasing his woman.

“You’re mine, you hear me? Only mine. Yes, that’s it, darling. Let go, let go.” Charles’ fucked her harder with his fingers, curling them to hit that little spot he knew would drive her over.

She bucked her hips as she came with force and moaned out his name reflexively. Her fingers entangled in Charles’ hair, pushing his head even closer to her center. He refused to stop, continuing to lightly flick her clit, sending aftershocks throughout her lower body. His hand and tongue teased and caressed her until she began to relax, coming down from her high.

He felt his lover draw sweet circles on his head with her fingers, petting him appreciatively as he placed tender smooches to her swollen mound, each one making her shudder in her orgasmic glow. She loved the way he made her come.

As Charles crawled up her body, she pulled his face to hers and pressed her garnet lips to his, sharing in the taste of herself on his mouth. She placed kisses on his stubbled neck, licking around his Adam's apple. The Duke moaned in her ear and she flooded with arousal once again. His weight was deliciously heavy on top of her, pressing her into the plush bed as he worshipped her skin.

“I’m in love with you,” Charles rasped hotly against her neck. He kissed her all over, but she was distracted by the bells that began tolling loudly in her head, bringing her thoughts elsewhere…

She didn’t want to admit that she had indeed fallen for the Duke. She didn’t want to admit that she felt anything other than lust. Love hardly amounted to a lifetime of happiness. She knew that if she admitted that she indeed loved him too, there was no guarantee she would get to keep him for herself.

Charles’ lips nipping at her skin brought her back from her wandering thoughts and she finally murmured, “I think you’re only in love with the way I feel around you, Charles. You’re drunk not only on wine but on the juices that you drink from the apex of my thighs.”

His toned arms held his strong body above her as his head lifted, pausing his ministrations. Concern flitted across his brows and he asked, “Are you telling me that no feelings have found you? None of adoration, only of fleshly desire? Because I have found myself zealously in love with you.”

Pangs of longing struck her soul, but she forcefully pushed those aside and chose to question him instead with rational thoughts, her eyes not able to meet his intense stare. “How can you possibly know that? Carnal pleasures don’t necessarily equate to love, Your Grace.”

Her hands traced his virile chest, gently petting the hair that covered his toned muscles there. She needed to know if he was truthful with his words. “Are we not simply partaking in our fleshly desires?”She asked him, struggling to maintain her confidence. “For all I know, tomorrow the King will ask you to betroth a woman… and what are you to say? ‘I cannot, I love another?’ This court doesn’t care a thing about love.”

“That,” He kissed her passionately, “does not answer my question.” His hard cock pressed against her abdomen, hot and heavy. “I want you. Why won’t you believe me?” He asked this as he slid the head of his flesh between her velvet walls, extracting a moan from her delicate throat.

Trying her best to stay focused on the topic at hand, she managed to breathe out, “Because I’ve seen you charm many other ladies to your bed before, where, for all I know, you could have ‘found yourself in love’ with them, too. I am not a fool, my dear.”

“No, you aren’t. But I have been. Can you accept that?”

She made herself meet his gaze as he hovered above her, her face becoming serious as she searched for a trace of lies in his expression.

She couldn’t find any.

Without answering, one of her hands reached behind to grab his head, bringing his lips to meet her messy red ones as her other hand reached between them to massage his heavy manhood. She rubbed the tip along her opening, prolonging her teasing. Lining him up with her center, she pushed him inside of her. His cock stretched her walls ever so deliciously, an intense rush of pleasure surging throughout her body despite the small pain that his size induced.

Charles thrust into her slow and steady while she adjusted to his size. His mouth claimed her lips once more, sucking and biting them as her hands roamed his back, lightly scratching at his skin. She squeezed her muscles around him, causing Charles to let out a feral growl.

“Sinful, you are, my dear Lady. I must have died and gone to heaven. Your sweet cunt makes me feel like I’ve arrived home,” he gasped, his breaths heavy and labored.

Charles was in awe at his lover’s beauty, how unleashed she was underneath him. Her hands found Charles’ ass and she kneaded the meaty flesh beneath her fingers as he squeezed her inner thighs, pressing her legs open wider.

He ground his hips into hers as he sank further into her, his cock bottoming out, his hip bone pressing deliciously into her nub. Shockwaves ran through her clit, her back instinctively arching up to let her meet his searching lips. He took her nipples into his mouth, lightly pinching them with his teeth as she moaned loudly in his ear.

He fucked into her with a steady pace one moment, then a tortuously slow pace the next. She felt every inch of him caressing her walls, the thick ridges of his head teasing her entrance every time he slowly withdrew from her. “That’s my girl… completely taken over by the feeling of my hard cock fucking her… shall I go faster?”

“Yes! Your Grace... please.” Her moans were lusty and unleashed, a true match to Charles’ vigor.

His grin was pure evil as he slipped out of her, despite her mewling objections. Flipping her over, he pulled her to all fours as he guided his cock back to her dripping slit. Teasing her, he rubbed the head of his cock over her sensitive clit. Her knees began to buckle, but before she collapsed, Charles grabbed around her middle and pulled her back into his chest.

He entered her again, hitting her front wall which made her shudder within his grasp. Charles marveled at how perfectly the shape of her ass fit to the bend of his hips, like they were the last two puzzle pieces completing the entire work.

She chanted her pleasure, over and over again, lost in the sensation of him. He was lost in the sensation of her. With her back pressed to his sweaty front, Charles wrapped one hand around the front of her waist as the other played with her flushed breasts, pinching and tweaking her peaks.

The Duke fucked her without abandon, flesh slapping flesh aggressively as they groaned loudly, relishing in their pleasure. He once again thanked the skies for the background noise to drown them out from prying ears, though he did not care. It was as if they had made love to one another over and over for many years — almost like they had found each other again and again in multiple lifetimes.

“Wow… you feel so good… Oh yes! Charles, I… Oh, fuck…” She came with an eruption that would put Mt. Vesuvius to shame, soaking his cock and thighs with her cum.

“You’re so pretty when you let go, sweeting. God, look at you..” Feeling her body convulse underneath his touch, Charles pumped his release into her. He buried his cock deep within her slick, holding her firmly to his hips while his hand reached around her throat, pulling her head back to his shoulder. His cum spurted into her, coating her insides, giving her a warm sense of success while Charles continued to nibble on her neck.

They looked across to the mirror, admiring the lover’s embrace looking back at them. They were both completely sated but were still aroused by the image of their bodies entwined together.

Hands roamed across skin, arms embraced the other as they watched their forms. Charles’ hand was suddenly on her clit, gently twirling his fingertips around it, overstimulating her by flicking it ever so gently until her whimpers convinced him to stop. Charles pulled himself from her warmth and his fingers slid into her folds, swiping up some of their union as he brought his hand to her mouth.

“For you,” he growled. She licked the warm cum off of his fingers, letting some of it dribble down her succulent cherry-stained lips. “Fuck,” the Duke exhaled heavily. “God, woman, the things you do to me… you are simply incredible.”

A smile spread across her garnet lips, her necklace glinting and gleaming in the glow of the candlelight. “Hmm... It is my absolute honor to please you, Your Grace.”

They laid down on the plush feathered bed in the afterglow of their carnal glory, the sweat starting to cool on their skin. She wrapped her legs around his and drew lazy circles across the planes of his body with her fingertips. Soft kisses were shared and placed everywhere they both could reach.

“Have my red-stained lips bewitched you enough to make you want to ask for my hand, Your Grace? You have already proclaimed your love, and you have already taken my virtue.” Her witty banter was not lost on the Duke; he, too, could play her game.

“Your virtue was long gone before I came along, my dear. No one’s mouth waters that much when seeing a cock for the first time.” Charles smirked at her. She rolled her eyes dramatically but laughed at him anyways. “And besides, I would be marrying you for far more reasons than just your lipstick, my sweeting. I am under your spell, but it is completely organic.”

“Why go and ruin a good thing? Do you not enjoy sneaking around with me, My Lord? Are you really willing to let go of the thrill of our secret?” She prodded him, needing to know that he meant what he’d proclaimed.

“Ruin?” Charles asked incredulously, “Getting to spend every day beside you with no limitations? Showing the world that you chose me? Spending my life with you would be the furthest thing from ruin, My Lady.”

She heard his words, but her doubtful thoughts had snakes their way back in to her head. She fell silent in his arms once more. They laid like that for a while, listening to the heavy raindrops patter randomly against the windows.

“You have yet to answer my question,” Charles finally reminded her in a low tone, savoring the softness of her body against him as his rugged hands explored her skin.

She shimmied closer into him, hiding her face as she whispered, “Don’t. Don’t make me. Please don’t make me tell you that I love you, too. As soon as I admit my love for you… I won’t be able to ignore it.”

“Look at me, my sweet.” Begrudgingly, she raised her head to meet his gaze. Charles caressed her chin, rubbing his thumb gently across it as his other hand brushed the loose tendrils of hair from her glistening face. “Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

“Your Grace, we don’t know that the King will give us his blessing...” Charles cut her off, catching her lips once more with his, sending all of his emotions into the kiss, desperate to help her understand just how ardently he wanted her. He wrapped his arms around her back, holding her close, their foreheads pressed against one another.

Again he persisted, “I will deal with the King. Will you do me the honor of letting me become your husband?” He searched her eyes for a crack in her walls, begging the universe for her to let him in. “Come on,” he joked, “don’t you want me to make you scream with pleasure for the rest of our lives?”

She barely managed to bite back a smile, massaging her bottom lip with her teeth, debating on how to answer.

“Will it help if I show you something?” he asked.

Her head cocked in curiosity; she nodded, watching his muscles ripple under his skin as he turned to the table by the bed, grabbing another wrapped parcel, this time much smaller. Charles turned back and opened it for her, explaining as he went.

“I had this made with your necklace… I hoped then, and still do, that you’ll say yes to me.” Inside the parcel lay a beautiful golden gimmel ring. The two interlocking rings shone brightly, one golden band set ornately around a large red garnet, surrounded by pearls, and the other decorated with smaller garnets; a perfect match.

Upon seeing the rings, the thoughts swirling in her mind slowed and were replaced by a sense of calm. Her heart pounded, but inside, she knew— she felt in her soul that they could face anything that came before them in this life. He truly wanted her, just as she wanted him.

“You’re insatiable, you know that?” She asked him, shaking her head but accepting the larger of the two rings as Charles tenderly placed it on her finger, following by placing the other on his own. He stared her down, impatiently waiting for her answer. “Yes!” she laughed nervously.

“At last!” Charles exclaimed, his beaming smile lighting up the room. He pushed her back on the bed, attacking her lips and body with hurried kisses, unable to contain his excitement. “I hope you’ve stocked up on wine and cherries to make more of that lip varnish, my dear. There are many other places I want to see your red kisses, starting with my cock.”

* I do not own Charles Brandon, The Tudors, or anything related to it.

#henry cavill #jill writes #henry cavill fanfic #lipstick kisses #charles brandon #the tudors #duke of suffolk #garnet #scorpiobitch95 #charles brandon x reader

331 notes · View notes

greensleeves888 · 3 years

Text

So it always amazes me how different Henry can look, and how different his character can be. Whether it's for a role or an interview, a premiere or hanging out with Kal, he is different every time. I think that's all part of his charm? Do you have a favourite Henry/Henry Character? Mine might have to be soft Henry/August - the only man who could ever make me fancy a moustache!

Made this image to show what a goddamn chameleon this guy is!

462 notes · View notes

princessphilly · 2 years

Note

I'm a greedy hoe, so I'm also asking for I’ve Never Loved A Man with Charles Brandon.

This was a fantastic idea 🤗

My friends keep telling me

That you ain’t no good

But oh, they don’t know

That I’d leave you if I could - Aretha Franklin - I’ve Never Loved A Man

Tagging: @darklydeliciousdesires @jeanieeelopez @strawberrishortbabe @chara-hugs @starshine-hockey-girl @myhockeyworld87 @kthynes @angryschnauzer

CW: slight dub-con, a bit of role-play, a bit of smut

WC: 867

It was a bit of tricky business, being here.

Alice hastily pushed her snood over her hair, glad that she had it intricately braided. This was dangerous business, snooping in the quarters of His Grace, the Duke of Suffolk. But desperate times means desperate matters and finding that wager her father agreed under duress to the Earl of Norwich was life or death.

“Better a wastrel than a heretic,” Alice’s mother had muttered but her father was a wastrel and a recusant. His Majesty had just dissolved the abbeys and the great monasteries. From what Alice was able to learn, her father had made great noise against that and Norwich was a recusant as well. But now, Suffolk had that wager in his belongings and if Alice were to discover it and get rid of it, there would be no proof that they were colluding.

Alice quickly and carefully sifted through the papers on the desk. Frustrated not to find anything, she was shocked when the Duke of Suffolk himself was standing behind her.

“Find what you wanted, Alice Moor?”

Gritting her teeth, Alice dipped a quick curtsy. Moor was the surname Alice had before she was married off to Sir Jasper Hastings, a loyal gentleman of the chamber for the previous King.

“It’s Alice Hastings, your grace,” Alice couldn’t help but jibe. Her tongue, it always led her to trouble.

The Duke laughed before stroking his beard. “I figured you’d find your way here, sooner or later, Mistress Hastings. You tend to have a habit of cleaning up after fools.”

“Sometimes it’s better to clean up than to suffer utter ruination.”

“But what if ruination is the key to the best outcome.”

In just a matter of sentences, Alice felt herself being thrown into a situation that she did not expect. And from the glint in his grace’s eyes, Alice knew she was on dangerous ground.

Alice rallied herself. “It may depend on the kind of ruination, your grace.”

“Best that you are not a maid, Mistress Hastings,” Suffolk purred. “For I would not have it said that I ruined innocent ladies.”

“I am not sure what you are about, your grace,” Alice lied even though she had an idea. She was alone with him in his private apartments, his bed merely steps away.

Suffolk slunk towards Alice, all predatory grace before taking a piece of paper out of his doublet. “I wonder if your lips taste like honey. I fear they will be sweet as berries.”

“A kiss, my lord Duke?”

His eyes burned as he took in her garb. Alice had worn the clothing of a maid, soot staining her skin, far from looking like the gentlewoman she typically was. Her cursed tongue added, “Or just a kiss?”

“Kisses, Mistress, kisses of several types,” Suffolk breathed.

This was just his luck, the Widow Hasting, in his chambers, at his mercy. But then, Charles wasn’t adverse to turning situations into his favor. The radiance of her skin, those full lips, it was enough to drive him mad with lust. Prowling close to Mistress Hastings, Charles inhaled. She smelled like the sweetest rose with a touch of exotic cinnamon, a spice limited only to His Majesty. It was pure luck that the King did not want Mistress Hastings, Charles would get to have her for herself.

Pressing closer, Charles insinuated, “Just a kiss, Mistress Hastings, and it is all yours. This vowel will be yours.”

“A kiss, your grace,” Alice breathed. His scent was intoxicating and she couldn’t resist. “You may, Suffolk.”

Expecting the Duke to just kiss her lips, Alice was surprised when he brushed his fingers over her cheek. Trailing over her mouth, Alice nipped them to Charle’s surprise. “Hmm, a saucy maid,” he commented before pulling Alice into him. His lips finally met hers, starting soft before turning deep and hungry. Before she knew it, Alice found herself on her back on his bed, Suffolk between her legs.

“Let’s stop playing the games, shall we,” Charles said, his fingers. “I love how you like to play innocent but my pussy is already nice and wet for me. Playing the coquette does it for you?”

“Shut up, your grace, and take me,” Alice urged.

Charles gave her a devilish smile before his tongue licked her pussy, his fingers playing with her, making her moan for him.

Alice rolled over to her side, her legs sore. His grace had ridden her hard after making her cum all over his tongue before releasing his seed on her chest. Like the dirty man he was, he fed her his seed with his fingers before giving her the paper. Alice had promptly tossed the paper into the fire.

The bed creaked as she got up. Suffolk was laying on his back, his bright blue eyes watching Alice as she picked up her clothes.

“Gone so soon?”

“I do have other duties, Suffolk,” Alice quipped. “Plus, it is not good for a gentlewoman to be seen in the rooms of your grace. I could still be ruined.”

Charles smirked before stretching. Alice bit her lip, he really was too handsome for his own good.

“Until next time then, Mistress.”

#charles brandon #duke of suffolk #henry cavill #henry cavill characters #henry cavill chara #the tudors #lyric prompt blurbs #lyric prompts #charles brandon x black oc #charles brandon x oc #smut #grapefruit rating #slight dubcon #slight dub-con

143 notes · View notes

isadomna · 3 years

Photo

Katherine of Aragon and Charles Brandon

Thus Christmas of 1533 should have been a merry time for the duke, who was no doubt looking forward to spending it with his young and invigorating wife. Such plans were put on hold as he made the journey from London into Huntingdonshire (now Cambridgeshire) to visit Katherine. He had two orders: to reduce Katherine’s household and servants, and to escort her to Somersham. If we believe Chapuys’ reports, Somersham was like a tomb, a damp, dark place where the cold air seeped into one’s bones. He had already protested against Henry’s previous alternative, Fotheringhay, a name that made the place sound surprisingly positive, but Somersham was far worse than Buckden. Henry knew it, and so did Katherine.

No doubt Brandon was confident that he would return home in a matter of days. However, Chapuys knew Katherine better, and he relished every amusing and embarrassing detail of Suffolk’s efforts. The reports by Chapuys and Brandon closely correspond; the duke was brutish, in Chapuys’ opinion, and Brandon’s own despatches do little to redeem him. He did not entirely agree with his mission, and could not bring himself to physically move the woman whom he had served for over two decades. Maria de Salinas, Katherine’s loyal friend and, incidentally, now Brandon’s mother-in-law, wrote secretly to the ambassador that Brandon had taken Communion before he left, ‘declaring at the time of his departure that he wished some accident might happen to him on the road that should exempt him at once from accomplishing such a journey and mission’.

Both Chapuys and Brandon report that and his entourage bullied its way into Buckden, and dined in Katherine’s hall before disclosing the purpose of their visit. Katherine’s protest was loud and angry. Brandon wrote to Norfolk, who had had his own memorable encounters with Katherine, that she refused all requests regarding her title, household and proposed move. Chapuys’ detailed account is based perhaps on the information from spies and informants at Buckden, such as John de Atequa, a bishop in Katherine’s employ. December was drawing to a close, and Katherine and Brandon remained in their domestic stalemate. The servants were dismissed, and even the chambermaids, who assisted Katherine in her private apartments, were threatened, but two remained. Her household now consisted of an apothecary, physician, two maids and her confessor. Brandon’s final move was to simply pack Katherine’s household furniture and baggage up around her, and have a litter prepared for immediate transportation. Katherine responded by locking herself in her chambers, while Brandon sat on the other side of the door beseeching her to let him in. Katherine declared that they would have to physically force her to leave, to bind her with ropes and bundle her off.

Mass hysteria descended on Buckden. Servants were dismissed but refused to leave, Brandon was not confident enough to break down the heavy oak door that stood between him and his mission, and Katherine refused to budge and stayed in her chambers. Chapuys may have been surprised by Katherine’s barricading herself in her room, but he could hardly fault it; he had heard much about the proposed estate, writing that ‘the house is surrounded by water and marshes, the most insalubrious and pestilential residence in all England’. It is not an exaggeration; the estate’s history corroborates his view. Previously home to the bishops of Ely, Somersham was surrounded by marsh and a large moat. No improvements had been made to the estate since the 1520s; thus it is easy to understand Chapuys’ indignation and Katherine’s refusal to move there. She threatened that they would have to drag her out, ‘as otherwise she would incur the guilt of voluntary suicide’. It was distressing enough that Katherine, a devout Catholic, would even contemplate such an option. Katherine won her battle, staying at Buckden, as a bedraggled Duke of Suffolk trudged home to court.

Lauren Mackay, Inside the Tudor Court.The Six Wives of Henry VIII

#Catherine of Aragon #Katherine of Aragon #Catalina de Aragon #Charles Brandon #Duke of Suffolk #Eustace Chapuys #Henry Cavill #Maria Doyle Kennedy #The Tudors

86 notes · View notes

athenepromachos · 2 years

Text

Sunday greetings from My Lord of Suffolk who is in fine form this morning.....*grunt* 😍 💋❤

#henry cavill #charles brandon #duke of suffolk #sexy suffolk #the tudors #tudors #all man #S4 #i loved brigitte #bearded brandon #bearded charles #s4 was the best charles #4x08 #his grace the duke of suffolk

174 notes · View notes

introvertedpedant · 2 years

Photo

Richard Dillane as Charles Brandon, The Duke of Suffolk, in Episodes 3 and 4 of Wolf Hall.

#Richard Dillane #Charles Brandon #Duke of Suffolk #Wolf Hall

12 notes · View notes

scorpiobitch95 · 3 years

Text

Because this one has been on my mind this week. 😘

Henry Cavill as Charles Brandon, The Tudors

#henry cavill #charles brandon #tudors #the tudors #duke of suffolk #i love him

312 notes · View notes

write-r-die · 2 years

Text

Prisoner - Part 26

A/N: I don’t even care if this chapter sucks, I just needed to finish it and get it up. Anyway - we’re in the home stretch! Probably only a couple more chapters left in this story now!

Masterlist

Thomasin’s sleep used to be peaceful and deep, so deep that her father sometimes joked she’d sleep through the second coming of Christ. Since Henry left – and since she started feeling unwell – it was often disturbed.

Her dreams were strange these days, and they came when she was awake as well as when she was asleep.

Her favorite dream was of a little boy with dark hair and blue eyes chasing after Kal, waving a stick around like a sword. Following his father as closely as a shadow, mimicking all his mannerisms. His cheeks would turn a pale pink when exposed to fresh air, just as Henry’s had when he was young.

In another – her favorite as well – she saw a little girl with pale hair a shrill voice who delighted in making loud noises that bothered others. She was mischievous and hellish and had her father wrapped around her little finger. He’d go to discipline her for something she did wrong; she’d distract him from his purpose. “I love you, Pappa,” she would say in a sing-song voice, batting her sapphire eyes, and he would forget why he was ever displeased with her to begin with.

She lay on her bed, staring up at the ceiling and listening to Kal snore and agonizing.

Her father told her the world always balanced itself out. One thing ends and another begins. What if Hammond died and Thomasin had a child to take his place in the world? She didn’t want to make that trade.

She loved Hammond. She did. They were never close, but he was her family. And what she did to him when she saw him on the road to London – warning Henry that he was there, potentially risking the lives of Hammond and his men in favor of invaders – was unforgiveable.

He had every right to shoot her on the road that day. If she were in his place, she would have done the same thing.

She didn’t deserve to have these daydreams come true. She didn’t deserve a willful little girl or a red-cheeked, energetic boy. Not when her brother could be lying dead in the woods somewhere.

Dead at the hands of her husband – her, kind, playful, thoughtful, absurdly beautiful husband. And she’d barely tried to stop him.

Kal made a sound like a sigh and put his face on the pillow beside Thomasin’s. His eyes looked especially large in the darkness. She rolled onto her side to face him, one hand closed around the signet pendant at her neck.

“I don’t know what I’ll do if he . . . If either of them . . .” She swallowed hard, unable to speak past the lump in her throat. Kal nosed her cheek and she cracked a smile. “Sometimes I think you understand every word I say.”

She lay there for a long time, twining her fingers in the dog’s thick fur, before she finally rose from bed.

“It’s time I see Elaine.”

***

It was only a couple of months ago that Henry and the others were combing the keep from top to bottom looking for Thomasin. Most of the soldiers were only half-looking for the woman; they were picking over the castle’s contents, looking for anything of value that they could keep as mementos or trophies. They were conquerors; they were entitled to the spoils of war regardless of how tasteless or cruel it must seem to the people they conquered.

Now only its footprint remained: cornerstones and bases scorched black by flames in a cluster of connected shapes. Pale flakes of ash had settled over the wreckage like snow. It lay undisturbed, almost peaceful.

Henry tried to recall the details of the keep as he walked its perimeter, but he only ever saw it once, at night, and he couldn’t call much to mind. All he could really remember was Thomasin.

The pale, delicate skin of her wrists as he closed his hands around them. He tried to be gentle when he lifted her from the darkness beneath the chapel, but he was sure his crude touch would mar her perfect skin. And then her hair and how the firelight made it glow. Made her glow.

He plucked her from her home like a flower, then destroyed the ground in which she grew and thrived. And he was so afraid he’d have to watch her wither away.

Charlie sat on a high heap of rubble where the keep’s primary entrance used to be, running a whetstone over his blade with relentless determination. He had not said a word since exiting Roger’s tent at sunrise.

He’d remained there even after Roger’s body was removed for burial. He had no desire to face the world outside, to answer the questions his brother would surely ask, to see the pity in some people’s faces and the disgust in others’.

But all Henry said to him was, “I did not know.”

Jarin seemed to be in shock. He and Roger grew up together. They’d been friends as long as they were alive. The men in general were itching for a fight; Roger always kept morale high. He always had a smile for everyone.

Hammond emerged from the trees on foot. He was armored for once, carrying a broadsword instead of his usual bow and arrow. His hair was the same deep oily black that Henry remembered. He didn’t have a full beard – he probably couldn’t grow one – but the same dark hair dusted the lower half of his face and neck.

Henry stepped forward to address him before anyone else had the chance. “Hammond. I ask you as your family, as your sister’s husband, to –”

Hammond’s face, which had the same bone structure as Thomasin’s but different features, was impassive. The way Thomasin spoke made it sound like he swung back and forth from apathy to anger and then back again, usually without warning. “That whore is no sister of mine,” he said calmly.

Everyone looked to Henry. He was shaking with the force of his fury, but he didn’t respond and he didn’t attack. His voice was dangerously low when he replied. “What would your father say to that?”

Hammond’s cool demeanor cracked so easily. He looked like a wild animal. “You don’t know anything about my father.”

“I know what Thomasin’s told me,” Henry replied. “And he was far closer to her than he was to you.”

***

It would be single combat, but neither side was likely to stick to their champion’s promise if he was cut down. If circumstances were different, if it were just a quarrel between barons, they would have all honored the pact. But honor had no place in this.

Charlie volunteered to fight. His body language and the expression on his face suggested he was ready to wrestle a lion if need be, but the look in his eyes was hollow, like he was slowly collapsing in on himself.

But Henry didn’t stop him or try to take his place. He wanted to fight the man – more than he was willing to admit, more even than Charlie did – but he wouldn’t. For Tom’s sake.

Hammond was an archer, not a swordsman: Charlie soon knocked the blade from his grip and, to add insult, opened a huge gash on the back of his hand. Hammond’s fingers spasmed; no doubt Charlie had cut through muscle or nerve, something essential. Blood poured down his knuckles, dripping from the tips of his fingers.

Hammond clutched his mangled hand to his chest, groaning at the pain. Charlie relaxed his stance the slightest bit.

But that’s what Hammond was waiting for.

Hammond threw himself at Charlie in the brief moment the Norman’s guard was down, knocking he wind out of his lungs as his back collided with the ground. The weight of his armor pinned him there. He struggled like a bug on its back.

Then, like a wolf, Hammond descended, his knees crushing Charlie’s arms into the dry, frosted dirt. And he started hitting him.

Charlie didn’t move an inch, didn’t cry out.

“Get up!” Henry shouted to his brother.

But he didn’t.

Over and over the Saxon’s fist connected with the Norman’s face. Hammond shouted a battle cry each time. Charlie’s face dripped with crimson blood, but it was impossible to tell whose it was. Hammond’s injury clearly wasn’t as bad as Henry first thought.

Had he done it on purpose? Allowed Charlie to disarm and cut him, let him believe that he had the upper hand?

“Charlie, get up!”

Henry tried to go to his brother, but Jamie and Edwin stopped him. “We’ve given our word,” Edwin growled. “We will not interfere.”

“I’m not going to stand by and watch my brother be beaten to death,” Henry spat.

“Sir –” Jamie started.

He isn’t even fighting back, Henry screamed inside. Why isn’t he fighting back?

But he knew the answer: Because he doesn’t have left it in him. He doesn’t have anything left at all. Not even the burning fury that was always there, either just beneath the surface or in the pit of his stomach, was left.

“Get up!” Henry shouted. “Get up!”

Charlie was probably unconscious by now, probably couldn’t even hear Henry, but Henry kept shouting anyway. It was clear when Hammond started to lose energy. Henry could see how difficult it was for him to breathe, to keep raising his fist. He could see Hammond’s weakness, and the warrior in him demanded he strike.

He set off at a full sprint, bending low at the last moment. His shoulder slammed into Hammond’s stomach, knocking him onto his back. Henry put his knees on the Saxon’s arms to pin him down. Then he leaned forward and started to hit him. Henry’s signet ring opened cuts along his opponent’s face with every strike.

But Hammond, unlike Charlie, fought his attacker. Hammond jerked his head forward, hoping to crack Henry’s nose, but Henry was too fast. He sat up fast, his weight temporarily shifting from Hammond’s arms to his chest. It was only for a moment, but that was all Hammond needed.

Suddenly there was a blade in his hand. With one final burst of strength, he lifted his arm high enough to drive the point into Henry’s thigh, all the way to the hilt.

Henry cried out in pain and Hammond smiled. The Norman’s hand shook as he reached down. He took three deep breaths and wrenched the blade from his flesh, crying out once more.

He didn’t even pause to catch his breath before he thrust it into Hammond’s wrist, in between the bones. Hammond cried out as Henry twisted it, tearing the complex web of nerves, muscles, and veins. He pulled the blade back out and blood spurted from the wound.

Hammond’s arm was already stained red from the cut across his hand. The blood from his wrist pooled around him, seeping into the frosted ground, dripping onto his hauberk.

He was too surprised to cry out. He just stared down at the wound, watching his life blood pour out.

Henry could’ve killed him then. He should have. But he hesitated. He didn’t want to destroy the only surviving person from Tom’s old life. He couldn’t do that to her.

He didn’t have to.

Saxons came pouring out of the trees, crashing over the ruins like waves on a rock. Henry barely had time to stand back before a clump of men flew toward Hammond. Someone threw him onto the front of a horse, draped over it like Thomasin was after she was shot.

At the same time, Henry, Jarin, and Crispin surged toward Charlie. They grabbed him under the arms and pulled him back toward the shelter of the trees. His dragging feet left an uninterrupted trail.

“Take him!” Henry howled over the din. He let go of his brother and drew his sword to protect their retreat.

Men on both sides stumbled over the rubble as they raced across the clearing toward each other. The weight of their armor held them down as Charlie’s had, making them easy targets. Passing warriors stabbed them in the face or throat as they went by.

Henry caught sight of his squire, a bow in the boy’s trembling hands. He was terrified, but nearly every shot hit its target.

“Jamie!” he shouted.

The squire ran through the throng of men. “Sir?”

Henry’s breathing was labored. He set his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Stay close. I need you to protect my back.”

Jamie shone with pride.

***

The battle only lasted an hour or two – short, by Norman standards, but too long for the Saxons.

Hammond’s men weren’t accustomed to prolonged fighting. It didn’t take long for them to lose stamina. Most retreated when they realized they were outmatched. The Normans didn’t pursue them.

Hammond was not among the dead strewn on the battlefield. Most likely he bled out on that horse while his men evacuated him. Maybe he was still alive. If he was, he’d probably die soon anyway.

Henry didn’t care. Honestly, he didn’t want to know. He didn’t want to be the man that killed Thomasin’s kin, but he didn’t want to think of Hammond alive and well and plotting his next move.

But it didn’t matter. Henry did what he had to do, what the king told him to do. Now he was going to grab his wife and get off this bloody island once and for all.

William himself was soon to return to Normandy, leaving a pair of regents behind to govern in his absence. Even he didn’t want to be here anymore.

Now the Normans were catching their breath – cleaning the blood from their armor and identifying the bodies of their fallen comrades.

Henry was exhausted but he couldn’t sit and rest with the others.

“Jamie,” he called.

The squire, still shaking, followed his master to the waiting horses.

“Where are you going?” Edwin called.

“Home,” Henry said simply. “To my wife.”

45 notes · View notes

greensleeves888 · 3 years

Text

I’ve not reached this season yet but I think these are stills from the Tudors. Correct me if I’m wrong. They’re just so beautiful…

#henry cavill #the cavillry #the tudors #duke of suffolk #charles brandon

136 notes · View notes

loveformoviesandshows · 3 years

Photo

Helena Bonham Carter as Lady Jane Grey (Lady Jane, 1986)

Lady Jane Grey: Daughter of Frances Grey - daughter of Mary, Queen of France (Dowager Queen of France, Duchess of Suffolk and younger sister of King Henry VIII; and the Duke of Suffolk, Charles Brandon) and Henry Grey, Duke of Suffolk.

When his mother’s cousin, King Edward VI was soon to die of illness, he appointed her as the heir to the throne, instead of his sister Mary Tudor -daughter of King Henry and Catherine of Aragon. The young King was a devotee protestant and wanted to avoid England falling into the will of the Pope and the Vatican and, knowing that his older sister would make the country Catholic again, he declared her and Elizabeth, his other sister, bastards so they could not claim the throne.

The Duke of Northumberland, John Dudley, who was the King’s adviser after the execution of his uncles Thomas and Edward - both judged for treason, looking to use the King for their personal gain, married Jane to his youngest son Guilford Dudley, expecting him to rule the country on his behalf by controlling the Queen. The Duke was unpleasantly surprised to see how smart and strong willed the young Queen was, wanting to rule on her own, ignoring his advice.

The people of England disliked Jane’s father-in-law and supported Mary’s claim and catholic beliefs. The people joined Mary and so did weapon suppliers and later the noblemen -knowing that there was no way for Jane to win and seeking a way to survived and keep their wealth and lands, they begged for Mary’s forgiveness.

Mary was successful in her rebellion and was proclaimed Queen of England, France and Ireland, putting an end to the Lady Grey’s reign after only 9 days. Later, despite her personal desire not to end Jane’s life, Mary agreed to the execution of Lady Grey’s execution -as well as her husband’s.

Lady Jane Grey was beheaded on February 12th, 1554 at the Tower of London, England.

532 notes · View notes

Last Seen Blogs

momomomochi23

life's a peach

dahliadaria

DahliaDaria

maxvkisser

Ilay¹

thefemalemarkcohen-blog

From Here On In I Shoot Without a Script

asexual-cat-furry

Welcome to my Hellhole