[werewolf AU] A long night

[tiltingwithlips]

King Henry is ill, most likely dying, and the kingdom has known so for some time. For now, at least, the English are thinking more about succession than about rebellions, past or future.

The palace in London is still and quiet tonight. The air is heavy with tension, thick with the smell of worry.

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[tiltingwithlips]

Kate watches him for a moment, her expression unreadable, then touches his elbow.

"Then get thee gone from the castle. This coil is 'long of me."

[valiantrebel]

"Shall I leave thee here alone? Nay, nor shall he think I've fled him. What sort of man should that make me?"

[tiltingwithlips]

"A safe one -- and a living one!"

[valiantrebel]

"Enough!" He shakes his head and straightens. "We'll go ahead of him. That we are in his palace we cannot help, but we'll ensure that which we can. If thou wilt keep him where we might see, I'll to our security."

[tiltingwithlips]

"So be it, then." She turns, sniffing the air, and leads the way down the corridor.

[valiantrebel]

The hue and cry is making its way through the halls of the palace; lords and prelates and guards are all in a confusion. Harry is little good at sneaking, and must remind himself more forcefully than ever not to engage and not to invite the need for defense.

An old thread of incense seeps toward them from the left; thank God, the architects of Westminster knew how the king might need quick access to the Lord.

[tiltingwithlips]

Kate's nostrils flare, and she grabs Harry's sleeve to lead him down to the left. There are one or two near misses, as they pass intersecting hallways and a few rooms with people moving about, but at last they make it to the chapel unmolested.

Getting inside is not exactly a relief. Who knows who else might come seeking a quiet place for prayer before the prince can make his way here?

[valiantrebel]

Or how long they must needs wait.

Harry cannot help but prowl the space. The lay of it is exposed enough in the middle, but there are dark corners, tall columns, tables to throw in the path of pursuers. The quiet is unnerving after the bustle of the halls.

He peers through a door: open spaces only, no place for a party of soldiers to hide. "He'll not surprise us, if he means an ambush."

[tiltingwithlips]

Kate watches him move through the room, clasping her hands together.

"I do not think it, Harry. He smelled -- I know the smell of a man ready for a fight," she says, dry.

[valiantrebel]

He stops and glares at her.

"There is a smell for that? Marry, thou speakst false to vex me."

[tiltingwithlips]

"What sayest thou?" She glares back. "Think'st thou I do not know the smell of my own husband?"

[valiantrebel]

"Does 'husband,' then, mean aught but 'brawler' to thee?"

He frowns.

He knows what she's doing.

It's marginally more calming than simply waiting, though.

[tiltingwithlips]

"Oh, it means a deal of things, my lord, but that is chief among them."

[valiantrebel]

"Why, I am young yet, but I know a little of wives, I'll wager."

[tiltingwithlips]

"A little," dry.

[valiantrebel]

"Shall we roar about it, afore God?" He gestures at the chapel, shoulders stiff.

[tiltingwithlips]

"Better that than to howl before the Devil," she mutters, folding her arms.

[valiantrebel]

"The Devil keep thee, for telling such untruths. A smell, for temper?" He snorts. "Needst thou a nose for such a thing?"

[tiltingwithlips]

"Nay, not with such a one as thee! A man might be blind and deaf and have no more nose than a fish and still know thy humours."

[valiantrebel]

"And should a man mince and smile and hide what he is? Has the world patience for such womanish men?"

[tiltingwithlips]

"It has patience for such women," she snarls.

[valiantrebel]

A door falls back into place, which had only lightly been cracked.

Hal stands with both hands on the handle, head canted.

"I'll not trouble you, Lord and Lady, if the moment should not allow."

[tiltingwithlips]

Kate whirls, her lip curling to bare her teeth before she can stop herself.

[valiantrebel]

Harry grabs Kate by the arm.

"Your majesty," he says flatly.

Hal shrugs. "God save the king."

[tiltingwithlips]

It's actually embarrassing to lose control of her instincts that way -- though, she supposes, as she ducks her head and presses her lips together, better to be embarrassed in front of other wolves than caught out in front of anyone else.