Topic: A Plan That Comes Together

Brynhilde · Date: 2016-06-10 11:18 EST

November 11th, 1615

The Edessans might have been savage by comparison with the other kingdoms of Meringia, but they knew how to host their guests. The Great Hall had rung all evening with the sound of laughter and music, a far cry from the more genteel feasts Henry had attended in the past. Here, there was free movement between the tables as men and women sought out friends to talk with as they ate, and only the King and Queen - Sigmund and Anne - remained sat at their high table. Even the princess and the prince moved freely as they enjoyed their meal, and Henry had found himself drawn about the hall by both of them, witness to the genuine sibling affection that had been lacking in that morning's greeting.

He was introduced to every clan chief, honored by each of them for his relationship to the High King, and was even asked if he would like to join in with the sparring that was the evening's entertainment. Brynhilde and Sigfried were denied the sparring - no one wanted to see the fight that was certain to erupt if one sibling rose above the other, even in sport - but they were a part of the dagger dances, terrifyingly wild celebrations of the knife and axe performed to the heady beat of the drum.

With ale flowing freely and good companionship, it was a wrench to leave the wild hall, but Philippe knew when not to stay. The High King took his leave as the moon began to rise to its zenith, close to the midnight hour, and drew his retinue away with him, leaving the Edessans to their play.

Henry thought there could not be two more different people than Sigmund and Anne, nor two more different countries than Edessa and Pomerania, and yet, there was something to be said for those differences. He even found himself laughing and forgetting his own troubles and worries for a while in light of the evening's entertainment, and though neither Sigmund nor Anne had much to say to him, both Brynhilde and Sigfried were friendly and warm as they introduced him to every clan chief, like he was an old friend. And when it was over, he found he was smiling, his head a little woozy with ale, and his stomach full, feeling relaxed and even happy.

"Say what you like about Edessa," Philippe groaned happily, dropping into a chair by the roaring fire in his apartments. He gestured for Henry to join him, sliding his slippers from his feet to reveal that even the High King of Pomerania and all her dominions was prone to holes in his socks. "They do put on a good feast." He chuckled, looking over at his nephew. "You've had a fine welcome, Harry."

"I should think it is you who they are welcoming, Uncle," Henry said as he, too, dropped into a chair by the fire, careful to wait until the king had taken a seat and gestured for him to join him. Even as relaxed as they were, even though they had a blood bond, Henry never forgot that Philippe was High King.

"Oh, they've seen me before," Philippe chuckled, shaking his head. "I've never seen the dagger dance performed quite like that before, though. The sheer enthusiasm of these people can be quite frightening." He smiled at his nephew. "Oh, do relax, Harry. Tell me what you think of Edessa."

"What I think of it?" Henry echoed, relaxing in the chair and stretching his legs out to warm them by the fire. He felt more relaxed than he had in a long time, though he wasn't quite sure if it was the ale, the evening's entertainment, or the company. "It's ....different," he said, unsure what other word to use to describe it.

Philippe nodded in amusement. "It is, at that," he agreed. "You know, many people believe that if Edessa had not sworn allegiance to Pomerania all those years ago, they would have poured out across Meringia and remade it in their image. There are times when I am not sure that would have been a bad thing."

"They live life to the fullest, it seems," Henry remarked, something he'd realized only that evening, though he wasn't quite sure just how far that love of living extended. "That is something to be said for them, certainly."

"They have a warrior's culture," his uncle pointed out. "If life is to be cut short at any time, where is the harm in living it to the fullest' They see the world at the point of a sword. It makes for an interesting view when it comes to politics." He stretched comfortably. "And the people, what do you think of them' The king and his family?"

"I think they are sad," he blurted before he could stop himself. If he hadn't been so relaxed, he might not have said it, but it just sort of came out with little thought of what he was saying until it was said. He frowned a little at his own words, at his own opinion and observance of the royal family. Despite the good show they had put on that evening, he knew there was trouble brewing beneath it all.

"You have good eyes," Philippe complimented him with a somber nod. "Sigmund is a good man, he has been a good king these past thirty years. A better king than his father was, was all accounts. But he will not last the winter, and by spring there will be a new ruler on the throne of Edessa. So tell me, Henry ....what do you think of the prince and princess?"

Henry frowned a little at the knowledge that Sigmund was ailing. As much as the man tried to hide it, it seemed everyone knew that he didn't have much time left. Edessa needed someone to take his place, but he was not sure whether it should be Brynhilde or Sigfried. "I think it is sad that they are being forced to compete for the crown when they should be thinking of their father. I cannot imagine the pain they must be feeling."

"A very diplomatic answer," his uncle pointed out. "But not the answer I was looking for. Come now, the truth. I would like your honest opinion on them, on the man and woman they are. You have spent more time in the girl's company than I have; you are better placed to make sense of her character for me."

"Woman," Henry corrected. There was nothing girlish about Brynhilde, though he knew his uncle had only referred to as such due to her age. He frowned thoughtfully, unsure if he could put his thoughts into words. "She believes if her brother is chosen to inherit the crown, her life will be in danger," he said, coming straight to the point. It didn't quite answer his uncle's question, but it was what concerned him most.

Philippe frowned curiously. It spoke volumes to the High King that this was his nephew's first concern, and it took effort not to smile at the natural concern in the young man's voice. It seemed as though Stephan had made the right call when they had been discussing this journey. "Harry, I can promise you that neither of them will die," he assured his nephew confidently. "I am not so heartless as to place either one of them in a position where their sibling may have to pay that price."

"We both know you are going to choose Sigfried," Henry said bluntly. Later, he'd wonder what had gotten into him for being so honest, but he thought that was likely what his uncle valued most and perhaps why he'd been asked to come along. "How are you going to prevent something from happening to them?" he asked further.

"To prevent civil war, there is no one else I can choose," Philippe pointed out. "If there were another way, I might choose Brynhilde. She is not influenced by my fool of a sister, after all." He sighed, rubbing a hand over his brow. "Aye, you might as well know. Sigmund will be telling them tonight himself - it'll be announced at the Clansmoot tomorrow. Brynhilde is to marry Peter of Carib. She'll be a queen in her own right, and that land needs a strong leader."

He'd had a good part of the afternoon to think about things, and Henry had thought he might have come up with a solution to the problem, but he had not expected the High King to have a solution of his own, and certainly not one such as this. He wasn't sure why it surprised him, but he was new to the politics and diplomacy of nations, and he couldn't help but turn a look of shock on his uncle - shock and dismay at the thought of such a match. "Peter of Carib is an old man," Henry pointed out, though he knew Philippe must know this already.

Brynhilde · Date: 2016-06-10 11:19 EST

"That he is," Philippe nodded, "and not long for this world, either. But he has agreed to this match, and for the same reasons that I proposed it ....when he dies, Lotharingia will strike at Carib. Divided as it is, that land will not be able to resist the heretic council, and we cannot afford for them to gain a footing with easy access to the sea. If Peter weds Brynhilde, he gains a strong queen, who will be able to force the barons and the horse lords to forget their petty differences and reinforce their border. Lotharingia does not have the men to strike at a country ready to defend itself. Or do you believe she is not strong enough for such a task?"

"No, she is strong enough," Henry replied, confirming his uncle's choice was a good one, and it had been made for all the right reasons. Why, then, was it bothering him so much' He felt almost heartsick about it, though he thought Brynhilde might be happy about such an arrangement. At least, she would not have to worry about being assassinated or having to spend her life in exile somewhere. He turned quiet a moment before speaking again. "You have decided, then."

Philippe considered him for a long moment, his eyes narrowed as he studied his nephew. There was a sense of defeat about the young man as he spoke, a sense that piqued the High King's interest. "If the decision was left to you," he said thoughtfully, "how would you resolve it, Harry?"

But Henry was no fool. He wasn't sure if his uncle was testing him, or if he sincerely wanted to know what his nephew's opinion on the situation was, but the young man already knew it was a no-win situation. "I don't like that we're changing a law that's been in place for centuries, but I understand your reasons for doing so," Henry replied, honestly, albeit a little grudgingly.

"Oh, I will be making it absolutely clear that this is an exception and not the rule," Philippe assured him firmly. "And you can guarantee that Sigfried's queen will not allow him to pass over a daughter in favor of a son when the time comes. Very traditional, these people. But that does not answer my question, Harry. Be honest with me now ....how would you solve this dilemma?"

"There is no satisfactory solution without putting Brynhilde's life at risk," Henry replied without hesitation. "If you decide to uphold the law, there will likely be an assassination attempt on her life so that Sigfried takes her place, without challenge. You cannot exile the queen without reason, though she is clearly the antagonist behind all this, indulging Sigfried's desire for power. If it were not for the queen's interference, there would be no animosity between brother and sister. There are those who support one, and those who support the other. Without a clear declaration from you, there will be civil war, so you must do what you must do." Henry frowned a moment as another thought came to mind, one that made him feel like a fool for mentioning to Brynhilde. "She does not deserve this. She deserves to be a queen, and you have found a way to give that to her. You might as well know I offered her a place at Ayleth, but it seems that will no longer be necessary."

Philippe's brow rose thoughtfully as Harry spoke, absorbing what was being said with a slow nod of his head. "And what place did you offer her at Ayleth?" he asked shrewdly. "She is no kitchen wench, nor is a woman of her rank able to keep a man's household without wedding him. Did you think that far ahead?"

"I offered her a place training soldiers. After all, she is a soldier herself, and she comes from a place that is well known for its warriors," Henry said, though he had not been quite that specific. "I suppose I could have offered to wed her, but what would she want with an earl, when she could have a king?"

"And if you were a king?" his uncle asked mildly. "Would you think yourself worthy of her then?" He wasn't asking purely to confuse the boy; Philippe had a plan, and it had already been arranged with Peter of Carib. But it would be made easier if the unknowing participant was willing before he was ever made aware of his part.

"If I were a king, I would not hesitate to ask," Henry found himself saying, though he wasn't sure why. He had never been very popular with women, and he knew it was unlikely he'd ever have the chance to marry for love. Perhaps friendship was all he could ever hope for, but if that was the case, wouldn't it be better to marry a friend than a complete stranger" And who was to say that friendship might not grow into love"

Philippe was silent for a long moment after that, marveling at Stephan's insight into his cousin. Though it might have seemed that Stephan had only suggested Henry because he wanted to keep his own brothers close, that suggestion was already bearing fruit. "Your cousin, Harry, is going to be a far better king than I have ever been," he said with a faint chuckle. "I wonder ....if I were to tell you the rest of this plan, would you be patient enough to see it through to its end?"

"I'm sorry, Uncle ....I don't understand," Henry said, brows raised, clearly confused. He knew Stephan would make a fine king one day, but he wasn't so sure he'd be a better king than his own father had been. He envied Stephan in a way - or perhaps it was just the fact that Stephan had a loving wife and children and Henry did not. But Henry had a sister who loved him and was devoted to him, and he had gained a family, but he doubted he'd ever rise above duke or marry for love and raise a family of his own. Yet, he was content to serve his king in any way he could.

"When Peter dies, Brynhilde will be alone in a world that will not recognize her authority, for the most part," Philippe explained to him, taking a chance on his nephew's good sense. "She will need a husband, a king to sit beside her and create a new dynasty. It will fall to me to choose that husband, Harry, and I would rather choose someone I know and trust, someone who will honor her as much as he honors the position he is given."

Henry's eyes widened. His uncle could not possibly be talking about him, could he" "Brynhilde was born to be a queen," he argued. "It is what she has trained for all her life. It is her birthright and what she was born to do. I am little more than a commoner, but if this is what you wish of me, I will do my best not to disappoint you," Henry said, only just realizing what it was he was accepting. He was not only accepting an arrangement that would make him King of Carib someday, but also husband to Brynhilde.

"I named no names, and yet you accept without question," his uncle pointed out, but there was real approval in his eyes. "You are a good man, Harry, and you will make a good king. With a wife like that one, you may even be a great king. You may tell Brynhilde of this, if you wish, but no one else. You will be able to take people with you, friends, even family if you and they wish, and we will help you prepare as best we can. Brynhilde, too, will take lessons in her new kingdom before she leaves Pomerania, and once she is there, she will pave the way for you, I am sure. But you must be certain, Harry."

No, his uncle hadn't named names, and yet, it seemed perfectly obvious to Henry that he had been thinking of him. It all made sense now. This was why he had been brought along, instead of someone else, but he was not quite as certain as his uncle was that he would make a good king, and the more he thought about it, the more it worried him. He'd been worried enough about one day inheriting a duchy, and now Philippe was offering him an entire kingdom. "May I speak with her first before giving you my answer?" he asked, not wanting to insult his uncle by refusing his offer, but it was very sudden, and he had a lot to think about.

Philippe chuckled gently. "Of course you may," he assured the young man. "But think on this, before you speak with her ....I will have to choose someone to wed her, and if it is not you, then I have only a handful of men I can choose from. Some are young, some are old. But it is in your power to grant her a lifetime with a husband who will, if not love her, then be her friend and honor her counsel."

Brynhilde · Date: 2016-06-10 11:19 EST

"I understand," Henry replied, though he still wanted the chance to talk to her before he made his final decision. "Does she know?" he asked, unsure how much had been said to her already.

"Sigmund was going to tell them all tonight about the proposal from Peter, and urge her to consider it," his uncle told him. "He will not want any of them to react openly when it is announced at the Clansmoot tomorrow. She does not yet know that a second husband will be chosen for her when Peter dies, but she is a sharp young woman. She will work it out for herself."

"This is the best she can hope for, isn't it?" he asked, already knowing the answer. The High King could not risk a civil war in Edessa and Peter of Carib would not live forever. It was a good solution, a fair solution, though it still irked Henry that the young woman was being forced out of her own birthright and into marriage with a strange man in a strange land.

"It is the only way to save her life," Philippe said sadly. "If I name her as Sigmund's heir, Anne will have her killed. If I name Sigfried as the heir with no provision for Brynhilde, Anne will have her killed. Even if she were to find sanctuary in Ayleth, Anne would still see her as a threat. But as queen of her own land, many miles from here, she will have power to exercise her birthright in the way she knows how. And I have no doubt she will bring the barons of Carib to heel, one way or the other, and scare Lotharingia witless in the process."

"No, I agree," Henry said. In fact, put that way, he could think of no one else who might be able to unite Carib and defend it against her enemies. He was not as certain about his own part in all this. "I am honored you have chosen me, but I am not sure I can live up to your expectations," he admitted with a doubtful frown.

"So don't," Philippe suggested. "Set your own expectations and live up to those, instead. If I lived up to everyone's expectations of me, I would have gone mad years ago. The only person whose expectations I cannot bear to disappoint is my wife and queen, and she has never expected more of me than I have been able to give." He sighed, stretching with a gentle yawn. "But I am an old man these days, and I need my bed, empty as it is."

Henry nodded, knowing the evening was drawing to an end, though he doubted he'd be able to put his mind to rest with all the thoughts that were now whirling around in his head. He moved to his feet, offering an arm so that he could escort the king to his private chambers. "Thank you, uncle," he said, though those simple words could not properly express the gratitude he was feeling - not because his uncle had offered him a kingdom, but because he simply believed in him.

Groaning with the effort, Philippe hauled himself onto his feet with Henry's help, leaving his slippers behind to be found later. The young man's gratitude made his frown as they headed toward his bedchambers. "You should never have to thank anyone for believing that you can be more than you are, lad," he said gently. "You are my blood, but that does not make you who you are. And who you are is a man I am very glad to be able to call family."

"I am proud to be part of your family and glad to call you uncle," Henry replied, perhaps a little more sentimental than either man was comfortable with or accustomed to, but it needed to be said. "I hope I will make you proud," he added, not because he wanted to be a good king, but because he wanted to be a good man.

"My dear boy, you already have." Philippe cupped his hand to Henry's neck for a long moment, smiling at the young man wearily. "But even kings need their sleep. Try not to let your worries keep you awake, lad. You may need your wits about you tomorrow."

For perhaps the first time since Philippe had sat down to talk with him, Henry smiled - a warm, fond smile for the man who was his own flesh and blood, as well as his king. "I will see you safely to your chambers, Uncle," he insisted, insisting also on the less formal address, at least while they were in private.

"Will you tuck me in as well?" the High King teased him warmly, leaning gratefully on Henry's arm. He wasn't old, and he certainly wasn't ailing, but Philippe was old enough to feel the ache in his joints after a long day on his feet.

Henry chuckled, as the king's sense of humor relieved any awkwardness between them. "I will if you wish, but I would not deign to take your groom's place," he teased back.

"Good man," Philippe nodded cheerfully. "He's a dusty old buffer these days, but then, so am I. We're made for each other." Reaching the door of the bedchamber, he straightened as it was opened for him by said groom. "Sleep well, Harry. Tomorrow promises to be another interesting day."

"You, as well, Uncle," Henry replied, letting go of the king's arm so that he could take his leave. "Good night," he said, offering a nod of his head to the groom. He didn't think he'd be able to sleep for a while yet with everything they had discussed weighing on his mind, but he made his way back to his own quarters, just the same. The king had given him much to think about, much to dream about.

The night was dark, and still there were the sounds of merriment from the city beyond his window, but they, too, began to die away as the Edessans sought out their beds. As the streets fell quiet, soothing the worries of the night, Henry's door opened quietly. A hooded and cloaked figure slipped inside, closing the door just as quietly behind them.

Henry had stood at the window for some time, listening to the sounds of merriment from the city, though it was difficult to see much in the dark. The people of Edessa seemed glad the High King had come to visit, and though they'd been welcoming, he wondered if many of them knew the real reason for his visit. As the night grew quiet outside his window, Henry had at last retired to his bed, extinguishing the candle at his bedside and burrowing beneath the warm pile of blankets, though sleep was elusive.

His near-silent visitor hesitated beside the door, lowering her hood to reveal the pale-blonde hair of the princess who was on his mind. Brynhilde moved quietly toward the bed, reaching for the blankets that were laid over him. "Henry," she whispered, hoping not to startle him awake. "Henry!"

As it happened, he'd been just drifting off when the hooded visitor crept into his room, waking him from his doze with a startled cry. On instinct, he reached for the blade he kept under his pillow, but thankfully, he recognized her voice, the moon casting enough light in his window that he also recognized her features in the dim light. "Brynhilde! What-what are you doing here?" he asked, his voice growing quieter once he'd said her name.

Brynhilde looked shaken in the darkness, leaning over him where he lay. "I need to talk to you," she told him softly. "There's ....there's no one else I can talk to. And it can't wait."

He yawned a little as he sat up, shoving a hand back through his hair and looking a little perplexed, though it was likely too dark to tell. "All right," he said, though he wasn't sure if she wanted to take a seat on his bed or if they should sit near the hearth, where the fire was just dying down. "Are you all right' You seem upset," he said, all too aware of the fact that he was clad only in a loose-fitting tunic and trousers.

Brynhilde · Date: 2016-06-10 11:20 EST

She solved his uncertainty by taking a seat on the bed, rather than have him rouse himself from his warm nest into the chilly night for her sake. "Did you know?" she asked him bluntly. "When we spoke earlier, did you know what your uncle has planned for me?" She wasn't certain quite what she was upset about, though the lack of choice in her future was certainly a part of it.

He frowned at her in the dark, realizing she was upset, and knowing just what she was probably upset about. "No," he told her honestly, feeling just a little awkward with her there on the side of his bed. "I did not know before tonight," he added, unsure if he should tell her the rest of what he knew or wait a while yet.

She relaxed a little, sagging where she sat. "I hoped you hadn't known," she admitted. "I didn't want to think that you were pretending to be friendly with me, just to get a sense of my character." She sighed, her hands fidgeting in her cloak. "What should I do, Henry' Marry an old man, or die in my own bed" It isn't a choice."

He might have taken hold of her hands, if they hadn't been hidden inside her cloak and if he'd been bold enough. As if having a woman - a princess, no less - sneaking into his room in the middle of the night wasn't scandalous enough. Did he dare tell her what he thought, what he'd told his uncle what he'd thought of his plan' "I don't think you have much choice, Bryn," he said, shortening her name, his own upset obvious in his voice.

"And what happens after Peter dies?" she asked hopelessly. "Another match, with another stranger, someone who will not recognize my authority and will treat only as a brood mare to gain children from. I will have to fight the horse lords and the barons in Carib to be recognized as queen at all, and yet as soon as Peter dies, there will be a new king who will not care that I have done most of his work for him. It might almost be better to die in my homeland than to live through that, Harry."

Henry - or as his closest friends and family called him, Harry - frowned, glad for the darkness so that she couldn't see his face flushing hotly. "I, uh ..." he stammered, wondering what she'd think when he broke the news to her that the High King had already worked that part out and that Peter's successor might be him. "I need to speak to you about that."

"What?" Brynhilde turned to look at him fully, suspicion on her face as she considered him. "What about it' Do you know something more that I will have to accept' Do you know who it is that the High King plans to bind me to' If you know, Harry, you should tell me. I would rather know in advance than be left to wonder."

Henry sighed. This wasn't how he'd wanted her to find out, and yet, he supposed it was better she heard it from him than from someone else. He'd meant to broach the subject with her in the morning, but she'd unexpectedly brought the discussion to him instead, and he'd hardly had a chance to wrap his own head around it yet. "It's me," he told her, his voice betraying his worry and even embarrassment. "I only found out tonight, I swear!" he added, just for good measure, not wanting her to think he had befriended her only because he wanted the throne, when nothing could be further from the truth.

"You?" For a long moment, the princess was silent, careful to keep her flare of anger to herself before she spoke. He had told her that he hadn't known any of this before tonight, and she had no reason to think otherwise. Why would he have offered her a place in his earldom as sanctuary, if he had known already what was planned" "You do not sound as though it is a fate you would wish for," she said quietly.

"I'm not quite sure what I wish for," he replied, wondering just how much she knew of his background. "Until a few months ago, I was a commoner. A carpenter by trade. I did not know who my father was. I did not know I was a bastard son of a nobleman. It is only because of the king's kindness that I am anything at all. He has been very good to me and to my sister. There are those who look down on us, I'm sure, but he does not blame us for our birth. I do not feel worthy of the title he has bestowed upon me, but he seems to see something in me that I cannot see for myself. You ask if this is a fate I would wish for. How can I answer such a question when such a fate has always been beyond my wildest imagination?" It was a lot to say, but she deserved an honest answer from him.

She listened in silence, letting him speak, trying to understand. She came from a culture that truly didn't care that he had been raised a commoner, or that he was considered by many to be a bastard. It meant nothing to her. "Is it ....is it the position that makes you pause, or ....or the company you would have to keep?" she asked hesitantly, curious to know his answer but at the same time reluctant to ask for it.

"It is the position," he replied, without hesitation, though he didn't want her to think he was trying to manipulate his way into her bed or that he didn't find her attractive. "What do I know about being a king" You have prepared all your life to lead your country. I know how to make a table," he said glumly. "I want to be proud of me, but I'm not sure I can live up to his expectations."

"I have prepared all my life to lead this country," she told him, the emphasis clear despite her quiet tone. "What do I know about uniting horse lords and corrupt barons under one rule" I can lead warriors into battle, but I have never truly understood politics, how to manipulate people into obeying me. It is a subtlety I have never needed." She sighed softly, one hand creeping from the folds of her cloak to toy with the pale braid hanging over her shoulder. "I will be all alone, in a strange land. But if I could choose, Harry, I would choose a friend to stand beside me."

He remained quiet, listening to all she had to say before forming a reply. He might have told her that he believed in her, even if she wasn't so sure of herself, but he didn't want to interrupt. He watched while she toyed with her braid. Though he resisted the urge, his fingers were almost twitching to take her hand. "I know nothing about ruling a country, Bryn, but I am learning, and I know something about being a friend, if you'll have me," he told her, equally quietly, almost timidly.

The hope that rose on her face could have been almost painful to behold, if it wasn't so encouraging. Her expression brightened as she looked at him. "Truly?" she asked, almost afraid to believe it. "I should like that, very much, Harry. To go into this knowing that, in time, I will have your friendship to lean on. And perhaps, in time, something more."

Again, he was glad of the darkness that hid the heat he was feeling in his face at the thought they could ever be more than friends. "Are you quite certain, Bryn? I am to give Philippe my answer tomorrow, and I told him I could not do so until I spoke with you."

"Harry, you're the first friend I've had who seems to care about what happens to me, rather than the country or the family," she told him quietly. "If you have no objection to uprooting your life and coming to Carib when I need you, then I have no objection to promising my life to yours. I like you, Harry, and not just for your pretty face. You are a good man."

For the first time since talking to his uncle, he felt a flood of relief wash over him, though he knew this would not be easy. He still had a lot to learn, but perhaps with Bryn's help and others around him, he could actually make his uncle proud. "I like you, too, Bryn," he told her, a little embarrassed at the rare praise. It was getting easier to talk to her, and he was slowly feeling more comfortable in her company, though they had only just met. "I promise I will do my best to be worthy of your friendship and belief in me," he said, almost echoing what he'd told his uncle only a few hours earlier.

Brynhilde · Date: 2016-06-10 11:20 EST

"Just be the man you are, and you will never disappoint me," she promised him, relief stark on her face. Without thinking, she lurched forward, wrapping her arms about his shoulders in a warm embrace. "Thank you, Harry. I know what my answer is now."

He lifted his brows, more than a little surprised at her embrace, which he awkwardly returned. "And I know what my answer will be, as well," he replied quietly, his heart beating a little bit faster with her so close. She was warm and soft as any woman, but possessing some inner strength that was solely herself.

Sensing his awkward discomfort, she drew back with a wry smile. "My apologies, I forgot that you aren't used to my ways," she apologized to him gently. Her hand gripped his for a moment, gentle but strong. "Sleep well, Lord Henry Greville. I will see you again tomorrow."

"Do you need an escort?" he asked, unsure if it was safe for her to be wandering around the castle alone, especially with a scheming step-mother who wanted her out of the way, though he thought it unlikely Queen Anne would dare raise a hand against her step-daughter, so long as Philippe was there.

"And who would escort you back?" she asked with gentle amusement, rising from where she sat to lift her hood once again. "I know the city. I'll be fine." Her hand disappeared into the shadows of her hood for a moment, and there was the sound of a kiss in the darkness. Then her fingertips touched his cheek. "Brave heart, Henry. And good night." As quietly as she had entered, she was gone, leaving with a lighter heart than she had brought with her.

She did not stay long enough for him to answer that question, though he would have argued that he needed no escort. After all, he was no one of import - at least, not yet. Who would want to harm him' He had thought that very same thing once before, before learning who he truly was and that he was practically a double for the Crown Prince. He thought he should probably warn her about that at some point, but there would be time for that later.

"Good night, Princess," he replied, as she melted back into the darkness, leaving him alone with his own thoughts and worries once again. Strange as it was, when he finally surrendered to sleep, it was with a smile on his face at the thought of her.