Ficlet: ...Is Also a New Beginning
Pairings: Camilla/Henry, Camilla/Charles
Rating: PG-13
Count: 342
Notes: "If you want a happy ending, that depends, of course, on where you stop your story."
When Henry touched her, it was with reverence, as if he was afraid that she'd change her mind if he gave her half a chance, so he was treading with great care. It was his first time, of course, but there was none of the awkward fumbling she'd half expected. He approached sex with the same single-minded focus that he gave to everything else.
With Charles it was always rough and fast, coming out of the blue when she was making lunch, or tidying her bedroom, or working on her Greek. He would attack and hold her down, pulling at buttons and ripping cloth. Charles was a child: grasping, possessive, angry and with no thought for her feeling at all. There had been a time when that was all she wanted - when she had thought she needed it that way; needed to feel passionately desired and owned. Now she felt differently.
She had told them, Francis and Henry and Richard and anyone who would listen, really, that she was afraid of Charles. That he had hurt her, and that she was terrified of what he might do now that his drinking had gotten so out of control. It was even a little bit true. She was afraid of Charles. But mostly she was tired. Tired of his unpredictable moodiness and the hatred she sometimes saw in his eyes. Tired of seeing playing every role in his life. Tired, most of all, of knowing that nothing would ever change; that in ten years, or twenty, Charles would be exactly the same, and that she could never, ever escape from him on her own.
She thought that Henry knew she was using him. Henry would know that sort of thing, and he also wouldn't care. They never talked about feelings or thoughts. In that way, as in most ways, her relationship with Henry was completely the opposite of the one with her brother. In the end, it was the coldness and silence that she craved, and would forever mourn for after Henry's death.
Rating: PG-13
Count: 342
Notes: "If you want a happy ending, that depends, of course, on where you stop your story."
When Henry touched her, it was with reverence, as if he was afraid that she'd change her mind if he gave her half a chance, so he was treading with great care. It was his first time, of course, but there was none of the awkward fumbling she'd half expected. He approached sex with the same single-minded focus that he gave to everything else.
With Charles it was always rough and fast, coming out of the blue when she was making lunch, or tidying her bedroom, or working on her Greek. He would attack and hold her down, pulling at buttons and ripping cloth. Charles was a child: grasping, possessive, angry and with no thought for her feeling at all. There had been a time when that was all she wanted - when she had thought she needed it that way; needed to feel passionately desired and owned. Now she felt differently.
She had told them, Francis and Henry and Richard and anyone who would listen, really, that she was afraid of Charles. That he had hurt her, and that she was terrified of what he might do now that his drinking had gotten so out of control. It was even a little bit true. She was afraid of Charles. But mostly she was tired. Tired of his unpredictable moodiness and the hatred she sometimes saw in his eyes. Tired of seeing playing every role in his life. Tired, most of all, of knowing that nothing would ever change; that in ten years, or twenty, Charles would be exactly the same, and that she could never, ever escape from him on her own.
She thought that Henry knew she was using him. Henry would know that sort of thing, and he also wouldn't care. They never talked about feelings or thoughts. In that way, as in most ways, her relationship with Henry was completely the opposite of the one with her brother. In the end, it was the coldness and silence that she craved, and would forever mourn for after Henry's death.