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selkie at 12:13pm on 19/05/2005
selkie at 12:13pm on 19/05/2005[Selkie wrote this a few days ago, and then unlocked it, but it wasn't showing up on my friends list, so I've attacked her journal to repost it. Neener. -rami]
"Anne." His voice touched her, in the half-dark, as much as his hand touched her bared shoulder. She startled, but only curled deeper into the bedding. The white of her shift crumpled askew with the russet and gold of her bed-jacket; a book was open in her left hand, but the pages were bent down at the corners. Her right hand was between her teeth, wound up with a strand of her hair.
"Anne. Will you not have your ladies in to you? Will you let no one see to your health?"
There was a sound, keening, perhaps no. He drew his hand back from her skin.
"The queen's grace must do as she pleases," he said, as if he agreed, and he turned.
"Tom!"
When she cried out her voice cracked. He had to turn back to her, to gather her close though his clothes reeked of weather and horse. She hid her face in the neck of his shirt and held fast. The hand closest to him was the one bearing the ragged red marks of her bite. Her hair was dulled and darkened with sweat; he stroked it back from her face, because his hands needed something to do while his mind found words.
"Treason," she gulped out. "Treason for you to be here..."
"Hush, Anne, my brave, my bonny. It's all treason, these days, one thing and another." When she lifted her face and looked at him, he smiled. It was not what he felt. "Will you speak to me, love?"
"I wanted you," she said. "I felt it happen. I wanted you here." She chewed down on her lip. "He was so small. It seemed he slipped out from me. There was so little blood, and so little water. The king -- the king was vexed and said the boy was ill-made, and did not favor him --"
He stopped her mouth gently with his hand. Her lips were very cold, or his hand was. She took his hand between hers, and he kissed her, just to bring the warmth back; that was how it had always been between them.
"Was he fair?"
"He was fair," said the queen, with her fingers still keeping his, "and like to his father."
"Anne." His voice touched her, in the half-dark, as much as his hand touched her bared shoulder. She startled, but only curled deeper into the bedding. The white of her shift crumpled askew with the russet and gold of her bed-jacket; a book was open in her left hand, but the pages were bent down at the corners. Her right hand was between her teeth, wound up with a strand of her hair.
"Anne. Will you not have your ladies in to you? Will you let no one see to your health?"
There was a sound, keening, perhaps no. He drew his hand back from her skin.
"The queen's grace must do as she pleases," he said, as if he agreed, and he turned.
"Tom!"
When she cried out her voice cracked. He had to turn back to her, to gather her close though his clothes reeked of weather and horse. She hid her face in the neck of his shirt and held fast. The hand closest to him was the one bearing the ragged red marks of her bite. Her hair was dulled and darkened with sweat; he stroked it back from her face, because his hands needed something to do while his mind found words.
"Treason," she gulped out. "Treason for you to be here..."
"Hush, Anne, my brave, my bonny. It's all treason, these days, one thing and another." When she lifted her face and looked at him, he smiled. It was not what he felt. "Will you speak to me, love?"
"I wanted you," she said. "I felt it happen. I wanted you here." She chewed down on her lip. "He was so small. It seemed he slipped out from me. There was so little blood, and so little water. The king -- the king was vexed and said the boy was ill-made, and did not favor him --"
He stopped her mouth gently with his hand. Her lips were very cold, or his hand was. She took his hand between hers, and he kissed her, just to bring the warmth back; that was how it had always been between them.
"Was he fair?"
"He was fair," said the queen, with her fingers still keeping his, "and like to his father."
(no subject)