October 1512

While the King and Queen sat on their thrones at the head of the ballroom, Prince Henry was sure to revel in what they were not. Here in the tiltyards, there were no Spanish traditions, none of his brother's instructions or guidelines and most certainly was not under the watchful eye of Edward Stafford. Here, where jousting tournaments ran as if water, where swordfighting was staged one after the other, rooster fights and dog races and archery competitions, it was all for Prince Henry. It was easy for the second son of England to turn something like an annual Festival into a celebration for his very namesake. In almost every corner of the jousting green the Prince's name was being shouted, called out in praise, making sure Henry was in every which way their beloved champion. On his light footed charger he paraded about the tilts, acting every part of the winner he believed he was..

...despite that he was now ranked second within the lists. His own confidant Thomas Grey had him beat, and with this next round the Prince sought to reclaim his rightful position as champion. These were his tiltyards, after all, these were his people crowded in the stands around him, it was his name coming from their throats as he pranced down them atop his armored horse. His lance was held upright in his strong left arm, and through his lifted visor of his helmet he watched all the people as he rode by them. He gave them all a mighty cheer in return, his face as bright as ever and carefree as he thought any Prince should. Here, he was not archbishop... he was an athlete, a champion, and he would not fail today. Not even a sudden rainstorm could end this day nor this tournament, and as he rounded the tilts and glanced at his opponent waiting patiently at the end of the jousting green, Prince Henry did not falter from his entertainment.

"Good people!" He bellowed, reining in his charger as it came to an abrupt but graceful halt. Its head was held high and neck was arched, making its rider look ever more golden. The crowds gathered in the wooden scaffolds roared for their prince, but the shaded and cushioned section for the nobility remained quiet in their modesty. Narrowing his eyelids, Henry glanced over to the more studious faces of the higher people of England, and with two subtle heels he moved his horse over to them. He had chosen a lighter set of armor, allowing him much more mobility as he stopped his horse just before a young lady he vaguely recognized and lowered the tip of his lance on the railing in front of her. "My Lady Charlotte," he spoke, his lips moving rather affectionately over the syllables as he watched the others surrounding her eye the royal prince with both intrigue and speculations. Henry ignored them. He was the Prince of England! He would do whatever he pleased. "Please," he began, dipping his chin in the most knightly of ways. "Allow me your favors," he glanced back up to her, his pale blue eyes bright in the gray overcast above them. "And I shall win this tournament for you."

The day of the joust seemed overcast to Charlotte as she headed down to the tiltyards accompanied by some of her fellow maids of honour. The others had made their way down earlier or so Charlotte assumed anyway. The air seemed to be buzzing as she made her way towards the area reserved for the nobility and sat herself in one of the seats. She talked quickly with the girls sat either side of her, excited for the tournament to start. It seemed like it would be a good and competitive tournament and today Charlotte was supporting Prince Henry and hoping he’d win.

It was only because she was a maid of honour to his sister, Charlotte supposed. She couldn’t think of any other reason why she’d support him since she was usually neutral. Fiddling with a pale blue handkerchief which she had brought with her due to the fact she somehow suspected that she may soon have a cold. It was the weather Charlotte thought that was making her feel this way, she always did feel strange around October, it wasn’t winter yet and neither was it summer. Far from it Charlotte thought waiting for the tournament to begin, feeling excited still.

Time passed very quickly and soon it was time for the deciding round with Prince Henry ranked second and he was about to joust Thomas Grey. When he stopped and approached the stands where Charlotte sat with the rest of the nobility, then she was astonished when he addressed her with a tone of somewhat affection. The people around her seemed to think so and light murmuring surrounded her. He asked her for her favour and said that he would win the tournament for her. Charlotte was shocked that he knew her name, he was a Prince!

As he was royalty, Charlotte felt obliged to agree with his request. She nodded once and said “Of course your highness,” and stood slightly. Feeling somewhat uncomfortable with the unwanted attention and presented him with the pale blue handkerchief (that had not been used at all much to Charlotte’s relief) “A token of my favour sire,” Charlotte tried to keep her head high and stop herself from feeling embarrassed from the feeling of eyes on her back. She gave him a small curtsey before sitting herself back down upon her seat wondering what would happen next and who would win.

Prince Henry could see the almost unnoticeable waver, even a sort of tremble in Lady Charlotte's body as he approached her. Perhaps even disbelief, that a royal highness would select the youngest daughter of a family, and for favors no less! Henry liked to see this reaction, liked to see that his charm and affection could flatter even the most cold of people. He saw the Lady Charlotte as not particularly icy, but her elegantly straightened back and proud fingers as she dropped the blue handkerchief on the tip of his lance told Henry it was as if she was waiting for a moment like this. To be noticed, and in any small way, to shine. A slow smirk touched his lips as he watched the piece of fabric fall delicately onto his lance, his pale blue eyes averting back to her face by the time she'd resettled herself upon her cushion. Seeing her there, it seemed she was no longer confident but instead hasty to sink back into normality, into the unseen and unnoticed, and as the prince bowed his head and collected the handkerchief into his fingers, he was suddenly very curious of this Lady Charlotte Hastings. In just these few moments, in just a few carefully spoken words and just a few tiny steps, the young maiden had shown the prince many faces of her personality. Henry was all the more keen to them now.

Keeping his eyes on her, he lifted the unused fabric of her favor to his nose and inhaled quietly, slowly. His eyes were still on hers before he raised it towards her, as if in a silent cheer, and folded it into the collar of his breastplate. Pivoting his charger, Henry trotted proudly off from the stands and to the tilts, finally taking his place at the other end. Thomas Grey sat quietly on his horse, his own lance finally being handed to him by a page on the ground. Henry watched and smiled brightly, his teeth showing even through the distance between he and his opponent. The trumpets sound and a small flicker of blue fabric could be seen from the collar of his armor, and as he raised his lance towards his opponent, Henry's heart was all but racing. "May the best man win!" He cried out, his warning ringing clear even with his most delighted expression. Thomas Grey was no fool... he would not dare proclaim himself the better man and beat the Prince of England. But Henry did not consider this; he was convinced, even in second place, that he would always win by his own effort and not by the propriety of other men.

Lifting his free hand to his helmet, Henry secured his visor over his face and seated himself further in the saddle, a tiny smirk always upon his unseen lips as the flag was raised and finally dropped. Immediately his stallion rose in a half-rear, emitting out a quiet whinny as he plunged forwards and charged down its side of the tilts, only the wooden railing separating the oncoming Thomas Grey and his aimed lance. Henry's, though, was the first to come in contact, whether by Thomas' doing or the prince's could be disputed, but never to Henry. The prince had won, had nearly toppled his opponent from his saddle, and rounding the other end of the jousting green, Henry reined in his horse and dropped the lance to the ground. The crowds had already begun to roar for their champion, and as he lifted the visor of his helmet, the prince's expression could not be mistaken. Taking off the helmet altogether, Henry dropped it too to the ground ad nudged his stallion back down the tilts, meeting his opponent in the middle to share both a bow of the head and comradely claps on the shoulders. Indeed, Henry Tudor would always be the better man.

Once his defeated opponent turned his horse and headed back towards the ends of the jousting green, Prince Henry was left to the whims of his cheering people. He praised them heartily for their support, their love, and though the section reserved for nobility remained quiet (save for their soft claps,) Henry knew they were watching him with equal affection. Never mind if they thought their King's brother was frivolous; he was Prince! A champion of his own country! His smile stretched further across his face as he trotted back over to where Lady Charlotte sat, already her blue handkerchief in his hand. "Lady Charlotte," he spoke, bowing his head. "Were you watching? I told you I would win." He flashed her a subtle wink and rocked atop his excited charger. "Now what shall I do for you? It seems your favors bring me great fortune!"

Charlotte watched Prince Henry raise the blue handkerchief towards her and she nodded at him. A simple nod to wish him good luck in this round of the tournament. Of course she believed that his majesty would win the this, he was Prince Henry after all. Though Charlotte did think that Thomas Grey would let his highness win. It was the correct thing to do in front of all these people gathered to watch the tournament. He had promised that he would win the tournament for her so Charlotte was of course wanting him to win like he had promised.

Though then the attention would be on her, something that Charlotte wanted but did not want at the same time. A part of her was happy that she, a mere youngest daughter and maid of honour to the Princess Mary was to be chosen for this honour of Prince Henry winning a tournament in her name. But everything else was screaming in fear, being noticed! She was always the Hastings child that everyone forgot about, just the youngest. She wished a little bit that he had picked her older, certainly more beautiful sister for that honour of giving her his favours.

But this was her chance to be noticed! So lost in her own thoughts Charlotte only seemed to be focusing on the tournament when an almighty cheer arose. Of course, Prince Henry had won the tournament. Champion and victorious as usual, as Charlotte Hastings had always expected the outcome to be. Applauding his highness's victory, she rose when Prince Henry approached her again and curtseyed slightly to him again. "I knew that you would win your highness, I had complete faith in the fact that you would win today," Charlotte responded, her cheeks turning slightly red at his subtle wink to her.

What shall I do for you? Charlotte could think of nothing, absolutely nothing. "I am only pleased that you won the tournament today sire and I am glad that I have brought you good fortune on this day," Charlotte said politely to Prince Henry deciding that it was the best course of action to take rather than insult his highness by declining his very generous offer. She kept a pleasant smile upon her face as she did not want to appear her usual icy self that she played to strangers, that would of course be highly disrespectful and very improper to his highness.

Henry liked to see the scarlet in her cheeks, that subtle rise of warmth as he singled her out amongst her fellow nobility. He liked to see that he could flatter her, that he could make a woman so easily nervous... that his image, his shining golden image was enough to immediately humble anyone he crossed paths with. Yes, he liked this very much, and his happy expression did not falter as he looked up at her from his charger. "I did not know I would win," he replied, his eyes sparkling. "Perhaps I will keep your token, then, as it seems to know more than I!" He chuckled and shook his head, turning his horse so that it did not face her, but rather stood to the side so the prince had to turn his head to look at her.

"Or shall I come to you more often, asking for your advice? Do you suppose I will have more of a chance at winning with your guidance?" Henry, atop his horse and in his jousting armor, the crowd cheering for him, was feeling so very playful and carefree. Glancing down at her handkerchief, he only smiled and moved the soft silk between his fingers, placing it back into the collar of his breastplate. "Thank you again, Lady Charlotte," he spoke loudly and clearly, dipping his head in honor to her graciousness. "Any prince would be grateful for your hand." Flashing her another wink, Henry turned his charger towards the crowd and addressed them freely once more.

"Good people!" He called out, answered by a mighty, exuberant roar. "By the good grace of my dear Lady Charlotte Hastings," he glanced over his shoulder and let out an echoing laugh. "I have won this tournament! Praise her name!" He laughed again and turned his horse back to her, extending a strong arm in her direction as if to parade her about without even moving a single step. "Would you like to ride with me, my Lady? Address your people?"