Late summer, 1390

[tiltingwithlips]

It's been a tense few days.

Margaret, for all her patience, made it clear that Kate was not going to be negotiating with the Douglas again, and Kate can't say that she objects. She just wishes there were something, anything she could do to help. As it is, she spends a great deal of time pacing, riding, reading -- or at least staring at books. Rereading Harry's letter.

The sun is on the way down towards the horizon, the shadows lengthening, as she makes another round of the castle's courtyard.

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[tiltingwithlips]

She grabs him by the front of his jacket, still looking incredulous -- but no, he's solid and absolutely alive and right here.

It's not very decorous, no doubt, but she puts a hand on his cheek and yanks him into a kiss.

[valiantrebel]

Decorous, by the devil -- his heart's not bothered with decorum now. 'Zounds, how he's been dreaming of this moment, the warmth of her, the taste of her, the press of her against him.

When they do break, he has little appetite for it. He'll kiss her again, and for as long as he can.

[tiltingwithlips]

Nnnnnnnope.

When they break apart, she takes a deep breath; when he goes in for another kiss, she shoves him back as hard as she can.

"A fortnight, you said!"

She smacks him in the shoulder.

"Nay, ten days! More a game than war!"

[valiantrebel]

"Ow!"

What? This -- no!

"Steady, Kate, I hardly--"

[tiltingwithlips]

"And you come back with no word," she continues, looking towards Northumberland -- and then cuts herself off, blinking at Bolingbroke.

Bolingbroke gives her a nod. "My lady Percy."

"My -- my lord of Lancaster."

[valiantrebel]

Northumberland holds up his hand. "We'll not deny you your reunion, daughter."

"Did our letter not reach you? We sent a letter." Harry's more annoyed than pleading; he was rather envisioning his glorious return a bit differently.

[tiltingwithlips]

"When?" she demands, all skepticism.

[valiantrebel]

"They sent him!" Harry jabs a hand at his father and Bolingbroke. "Though apparently they did not pay him enough."

"We paid enough," says Northumberland, drawing his eyebrows together.

Harry glowers for a moment, then turns back to Kate. "Anyway, I'd have been home some weeks sooner had suitable terms been arranged--"

[tiltingwithlips]

Kate stiffens, offended. Then she sets her jaw and turns to Northumberland and Bolingbroke again.

"My lord," to Bolingbroke, "welcome -- and Father -- welcome home, and with a happy burden in tow indeed."

[valiantrebel]

Northumberland -- can't help but sort of not smile. "Happy indeed, and a burden, perhaps. We gladly bring him, though we regret the delay, and the surprise."

Harry sighs, loudly, and shakes his head. "Is my mother at least at home?" Someone should welcome him home without smacking him or insulting him, at least.

[tiltingwithlips]

"I sent for her."

STILL MAD AT YOU, HARRY. All cold shoulders over here.

"Have you ridden far? We must see to a bed for my lord of Lancaster -- will you stay here long, sir?"

"Tonight, at least," Bolingbroke says, with another deep nod, "and my thanks for your hospitality. I am glad of the welcome."

[valiantrebel]

"I for one will be greatly heartened to see my own bed again," Harry says, perhaps a little too loudly and pointedly. At which he strides off into the castle, stiff-legged and shaking his head.

[tiltingwithlips]

Kate opens her mouth, turning after him, and then hesitates, torn between pride and relief and responsibility.

"I -- I cry your mercy, lords, but will you pardon me--?"

[valiantrebel]

Northumberland all but shoos her away. "Go to, my lady!"

[tiltingwithlips]

She breaks into a smile for the first time, a little embarrassed but mostly just relieved, and turns to follow Harry.

[valiantrebel]

Northumberland just watches them go; he shoots Bolingbroke a knowing look. They'll have plenty to discuss on their own.

Harry, meanwhile, is still stalking his way through the halls -- his halls, his home, his free ground, God. The sight of his own servants, his own furnishings, is strange now -- disorienting. He finds he can't quite bring himself to slow down or stop.

[tiltingwithlips]

Well, she has a fairly good idea where he'd be headed.

She doesn't catch up to him until they've reached the hall that leads to their room.

"Harry--"

[valiantrebel]

At that, he'll turn. He's still a chum of irritation and elation and exhaustion, though.

"I'm glad to see thee, Kate, I am--"

[tiltingwithlips]

Almost simultaneous: "I cry thy pardon, my lord, I have been--"

[valiantrebel]

Maybe it's a newfound maturity that stops the rest of his words. Most likely it's simply missing his lady wife. He pauses.

More softly, though no more steadily: "I must cry thine, Kate. Thou'st spoken aright; I promised thee much less."

[tiltingwithlips]

"I know thou couldst not help it."

She pauses, still a few yards away.

[valiantrebel]

He snorts. "I should have chanced an escape. Thou'st seen what company the Douglas makes."

[tiltingwithlips]

A faint laugh. "I had rather have thee back late and whole than see thee hurt in an escape."

[valiantrebel]

"Wilt thou, then, have me back at last?"

Maybe they can... try that whole reunion thing again?

[tiltingwithlips]

Laughing again, a little stronger, she holds out her hands.

"I'd like nothing better."