thequitecontrary | inbox for fasti

"...I did not consider an Italian summer."

It would be a shame, Henry thinks, to see Mary's fair skin burn an angry red under the relentless onslaught of the sun. Certainly it won't hurt to see how the natives protect themselves.

Wryly, he remarks, "We shall envy Vulcan's Chosen their immunity."

It's through Xu Shu that he knows their house suffers no harm from any heat. He's seen the strategist stick a hand directly into the hottest part of a flame and emerge unscathed.

Mary has been wearing light shawls of linen and she usually has her parasol with her. Those help to combat any sort of burning or tanning. It's hard work to keep her fair skin here, but she is fastidious about it. Ladies do not tan. It is the sign of being a commoner.

"Indeed. That is a rather useful power," she says. "I find mine to be useful as well though." Enhanced hearing and sight have served her well, even if they have led her to learn things about her fellow Chosen that she might not have wanted to know. They're useful for eavesdropping, which she's sure she will have more cause to utilize in the future.

Henry tilts his head at Mary, curious. Talking of powers reminds him of his sin, but that doesn't mean that he isn't interested. Quite the opposite.

"Have you gained a new one of late?"

She must have, if he did even before he made an offering.

"It's not terribly new, as I gained it at the beginning of April. I am able to hear and see even more clearly, probably better than the average human would be. It can be quite useful, as you might imagine."

Mary smiles at him. She likes it most of the time, and she's usually able to turn them off so as not to be overwhelmed by visual and auditory stimuli all the time.

"Did you receive a power?"

Henry raises his eyebrows, impressed. "A true boon, in and out of battle."

His own are much less useful, except in very specific situations. But that fact is not why he pauses before he answers.

"...I did." Henry touches his chest and glances up to the sky. "It changed my lungs. I may now breathe as easily at the peak of a mountain as I do here on the ground. Or so I sense."

He can't exactly test it from inside Rome. Yet he knows innately that his breathing is no longer hindered by high altitudes.

Henry falls quiet, then. His jaw tenses and he dips his head. "That was the first. The one gifted to me. The second—"

He exhales sharply, looking to the medallion tied around his wrist. He has worn it that way since day one because it feels wrong to wear it as he would a crucifix.

"I have committed a grave sin, Mary. I offered to Jupiter."

To see if Jupiter would answer, despite Henry's faith dictating that God is the one true god. Though the act lacked religious devotion on his part it remains idolatry.

Her face grows more concerned as Henry continues to speak. She hadn't exactly realized that one could pray to their host deity for another power, but that is a matter for another time. This is clearly bothering Henry. Knowing that he is a Catholic, and from much earlier than the Reformation, Mary can understand the severity of what he's feeling.

"I'm sorry that it has disturbed you so," she replies. Mary isn't sure what exactly he wants from her. An assurance that it's alright? A scolding? "Is there... something that I might do?"

Henry lifts his head and looks to Mary, placing a hand on her arm linked through his.

"...'Tis wrong of me to ask when you are already burdened by your loss."

Yet despite those words, he does ask.

"I knowingly took that sin upon myself. I shall do so again. But I cannot repent 'til I return home. So if I should die here—" he grimaces to say that, aware that she was widowed, "—will you pray for my soul?"

He knows it's an intimate request he makes. Too intimate, maybe, when she is not ready for such things. But it is done now.

"Henry..." Her voice is soft. She was not expecting such a serious request from him. In the wake of Thor leaving, if again makes her confront the fact that this place is transient and unpredictable. Again the question comes up: is it better to not get involved with anyone or to try and make the most of the time they might have? Either way, it's not reflective of him or his request of her. "If that happens, I will surely pray for you."

Mary lifts his hand to her lips and kisses the back of it. After a moment of quiet contemplation of the nature surrounding him, she looks at Henry once again. "Do you believe that our God is here with us?" she asks.

Henry exhales in relief, a weight off his soul. "Then you have saved me," he breathes.

A rush of tenderness swells in his chest and he tucks Mary closer to his side. Though he does not embrace her, he yearns to.

He is caught in that longing for a moment, before finally answering her question.

"I do. God is omnipotent... surely He allowed our involvement. Maybe that is why Jupiter took no affront at my faith when I made my offering."

She holds his hand as they continue to walk. It's the closest she'll allow herself to come to embracing him for now.

"My Lord," she begins quietly, "I hope that you will likewise not judge me for the fact that I have prayed and sacrificed to Juno. I admit, I was praying for Thor's safety back home, but that is how I was gifted with my new rooms."

Mary has no regrets about that at all. If praying to Juno would get her servants and a private cook, she'd pray all day long. She's never been terribly religious, other than what was expected of her as a member of the upper class.

"The Church is different in my time as compared to yours. I am not a Catholic. Most English are not. There was a separation in the early 1500s and eventually England created their own Church."

She hopes that she has not just told him something mind-blowing and offensive and she watches his reaction carefully.

He is content to have her hand twined with his.

What Mary says is mind-blowing, but not necessarily offensive. In his day the Catholic Church has concrete power in everyday life and politics, a force which royalty and the nobility must at times contend with. Henry's relationship with his religion is more complicated than it appears on the surface. And truthfully, while he must seem devout to more modern perspectives, by the standards of his time he is only moderately so. The fact that he bedded her without qualm or regret, despite the Church considering it the sin of fornication, is one indication that he's imperfect and flawed in his piety.

He's mostly shocked.

"What say you...? An English Church?"

He can scarcely imagine it. The notion appeals to him as a man who has spend his life fighting for England's sake. Yet he's still reeling as a lifelong Catholic. It's too large a thought for him to absorb easily or quickly.

So he returns to her other, far more ordinary words. Those he can manage.

"...To judge you for it would be hypocrisy on my part. You have new rooms?"

"Yes... I might explain it by saying that the King no longer wished to be told what to do by the Pope. He was not the first to come up with the idea of breaking away from the Catholic Church, but he certainly capitalized on the opportunity."

She could go into the whole story of Anne Boleyn, but she won't for now. That information is probably enough to suffice.

The fact that Henry slept with her with such ease does puzzle her a bit. She, too, has no regrets about having sex with him, but she would have thought that it might have been a larger issue for a man like him. He has not mentioned marrying her. Practically, she knows that doesn't make sense here, but if they were back home, she presumes she would have gotten a proposal by now. It would be considered the proper thing to do, based on the values of her time.

"I did." Mary grins when she speaks of her new rooms. "It is a much larger space with several rooms on the second floor of the insula." She loves it. Finally, decent accommodations.

That explanation makes sense to Henry — though he'd think worse of it if he knew the particulars.

"Several rooms? A luxury indeed." He smiles to see her delight. "One cannot know Juno's intent, but that seems a promising sign."

Squeezing Mary's hand, he watches her for a moment, before speaking again. "Do not feel that you cannot speak freely of Thor."

Not that he thinks she restrains herself, necessarily. He has, after all, seen her tears. But it does occur to him with this talk of her prayer that perhaps his desires create an obstacle.

"Perhaps I have pleased her in some way, even if I am not a very good fighter," she replies. Mary feels she has made up for that in other ways though and that she has been able to contribute to the complex anyway.

She quirks her head to the side, thinking. "You have not made me feel that way," she says. "I do not hold back, but when I am with you, I wish to speak of other things. You make me happy, Henry."

Being with him makes her think of him, not of Thor. Of course, the god is still on her mind, as he left so recently and Mary felt so strongly about him, but Henry helps her to forget her grief.

That admission from Mary's lips feels like a great victory. He makes her happy — there are few better compliments. When Henry agreed to fight this war and found himself here, he never expected this, her, to be part of the experience.

But she is vital; truly unforgettable.

"I would kiss you, Mary, 'til you are breathless and heady with joy."

Instead he strokes his thumb back and forth over her first knuckle. She has set her boundaries and he will not encroach upon them.

He gives her a lively smile.

"Though the Romans do not mark the start of summer as we do, it yet feels a day for revelry."

Her cheeks do flush at his words. "In due time, Henry," she replies. She wants him to know that once her grief has fully passed, she will be ready to see men again. He happens to be the first and only one that she wishes to see in any sort of romantic context. It won't be long, and he has already proven his patience.

"What would you have us do today then?" Mary asks. Back home, there would be a maypole, but usually children partook in that. She hasn't skipped around a maypole in twenty years.

How beautiful Mary is, with colour on her cheeks and delicate flowers in her hair. She's a sight to treasure.

"Let us find where Rome's musicians hide," Henry answers, his gaze confident and warm. "Then I would prevail upon my Queen for a dance."

For today, at least, Mary is crowned.

"I would be honored to dance with you," Mary says. She squeezes his hand as they head towards the city. She isn't sure where they might find musicians or a place to dance, but Henry's good mood has inspired one in her. It's the happiest she's felt since Thor left, and she looks forward to whatever the day brings with Henry.

inbox for fasti

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject