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.

Comments

[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."

[valiantrebel]

He pauses.

And smirks, just a little.

And holds out his hand.

"'Twas thee that struck me."

Your move, Kate.

[tiltingwithlips]

Kate rolls her eyes and comes forward to takes his hand.

"What sort of soldier art thou?"

[valiantrebel]

"A heartsick one in need of my wife's sweet nothings! I've been in Scotland, my love. I'm in great need of coddling."

[tiltingwithlips]

"Thou'rt a wretch," Kate says, rolling her eyes, and moves closer to kiss him.

On the cheek.

That's coddling, right?

[valiantrebel]

Only if he doesn't move.

Then it's a kiss on the lips!

[tiltingwithlips]

!!!, says Kate, more or less.

[valiantrebel]

Harry grins against her mouth. "Wilt thou strike again?"

[tiltingwithlips]

"I think thou merit'st it," she mutters, before kissing him again.

[valiantrebel]

"Most likely."

So he might as well progress to a two-hands-on-the-face kiss.

"What else should I merit, mm?"

[tiltingwithlips]

"Nothing that I shall give thee out in the hall for all to see."