Heir of the Night

    The rain began to pelt the cobble stones on the street. It had never been this cold in months. The moon was graciously shining in the dark, cloudy sky; a rare occasion of sorts when it rained. The sound of horses' hoofs on the street could be heard from afar, a slight whiny echoing off the narrow alley's walls. He ran frantically through the streets, men's voices shouting inaudibly and the flicker of torches across the brick walls of London could be seen. He wrapped the little bundle tighter beneath his arms, holding it closer to his chest in fear that it would make a sound. Even with the moon's slight glow, London had never felt so dark and damp; the Tower's dungeons felt more welcoming and safe than tonight had. He feared being found; he was supposed to protect this precious cargo that he dearly held onto with his life. The fate of a kingdom was now laying in his hands...
    That morning the Queen had given birth; it was a b*****d. The identity of the child was to be kept secret for the Queen was unmarried and a child not of full noble blood could never reign. She had fallen in love with him, an earl who had just been betrothed to her royal Majesty's lady-in-waiting, a perfect match said to be made out of political power and money. He was young, younger than she. His hair was golden brown with beautiful, curly locks that hung loosely behind his ears. His eyes were a piercing deep auburn that sparkled and danced whenever he laughed. He was fair on the eyes and his smile made the whole room light up. Anyone would have been jealous of his attributes. She loved more than all of him; she loved his truth, his passion, his happiness, his love. If only he had remained faithful to his vow, the fate of a great nation would not be threatened. Instead, they had a secret love affair.

***

    She was young when her mother died; the Queen no one loved. Her political power and adulterous ways led to her failed reign, and consequently, left her headless. Elizabeth's mother had won the eye of the feared Henry VIII, beautiful and graceful in his youth, merciless and despised in his old age. Not much after the Queen's death was Elizabeth's fate to be determined. Her father had favored his son, Edward, over his lusted offspring of a child, and left Edward the rightful heir to the throne. However, Elizabeth would not know that her fate would otherwise change. She was well admired while growing up in the kingdom. She was of fair color, with elegant reddish blond hair that collected at the nap of her neck in lush coils. Her eyes were a pure deep blue and her laugh was like the song of a sparrow's. Many had fallen in love, and many had failed in their love. It wasn't a secret that many desired the pleasure of the Queen but her heart desired only one.
   He had come to the court at a young age, a son of an earl. His father had died and he was to be a scholar in the courts of the Queen. He received an education incomparable to others, learning the craft of literature, swordsmanship, language. The greatness of a nation and power were now at his hands, and fate would soon determine his destiny. The marriage had been arranged and the fear of a loveless bed chamber ached stronger. He loved her, the Queen; her voice, smooth like rose petals, her smile, so radiant and full of life, her presence, so powerful, elegant, demanding, more than any other Queen who had walked those halls before her. He touched her, passionately for her skin was soft and precious like the curves of a porcelain cup. He had never desired something so much before. He knew he must obey, for after all, she was his Royal Majesty, the Ruler of England.

***

   Elizabeth loved plays; full of merriment, tragedy, passion, corruption. It was her comfort, her confidant. Before her reign as Queen, Elizabeth had experienced the despair of the Tower during her half-sister, Mary's reign. But now, Elizabeth placed herself in laughter and joy of the court, filling it with plays. It was there she saw him, seated erect in his chair, eyes bedazzled by the play. She watched his mouth move, forming into a perfect little circle, his teeth peering ever so slightly between his formed lips. His gaze returned hers. She had never seen such beauty, for more beautiful than the intricate detail of the artist, Holbein's greatest masterpieces. She had never known this feeling and did not understand its receptiveness. She dared not smile, for she knew her lady-in-waiting was to be betrothed to him.

Author's Note

Based on the theory that Queen Elizabeth I had an illegitimate child with an aristocrat of the court during her reign. The story is not complete, just want feedback on what I have so far :]