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[livinginmyglass]

Viola isn't sure whether she had that strange magic flu or just a nasty cold, but whatever it was, she slept for about three days straight and woke feeling much better.

(She thinks she was herself the whole time, but then again she has a hazy, feverish recollection of dreams of the shipwreck, of a rescue that was not her own-- of waking, and seeming to see the room through her brother's eyes before drifting to sleep again.)

But she's better now, so time to set all that aside (not least her encounter with Hal, which she blushes even thinking of. It was far less scandalous than kissing, of course, but somehow the memory of it-- of trailing his other self, of looking so wretched in front of him, of curling up on the couch at his side-- embarrasses her more.)

But setting that aside-- the library. That's always a safe, calming place.

Comments

[never_promised]

Hal makes a face. "I know none. Dost thou?"

[livinginmyglass]

"None in this place. Indeed, it seems all do occupy a most lofty estate," she adds thoughtfully. "I had never thought of it before. If any others be servants, 'tis a title they claim not. Though in this, perhaps, they are wiser than I!"

[never_promised]

"Mm." Fine, Viola, go distract him from nonsensical excuses to get handsy with each other. Be that way. "I know not lofty. The Frenchman Bahorel will declaim loudly to any who will hear it, how his people are peasants, his parents farmers, he is sprung from the French mud itself, and so forth. But 'tis true he is no man's servant."

The music changes, and he stretches to look at the screen: a video now, with a crowned and ermined man trudging along a path carrying some sort of folded contraption. Okay, then.

[livinginmyglass]

"Why, sure thou hast such gown about you!" She grins. "Or is't not strange enough to fulfill thy promise?"

[never_promised]

"Nay, I brought not my ermines..." Just the extremely luxurious gown he'd worn to die in. And his crown. "The promise was to dress as Boy George, and this is some other man." He looks over at her, leaning on the back of the couch. "--Wilt sit with me?"

Probably she won't, without the excuse of illness.

[livinginmyglass]

"Why, 'twas thy promise to observe the doings of these strange men, not mine," she says.

But she sits. Not nearly as close as she did the other day.

[never_promised]

...fair enough. He doesn't do anything to close the distance; let her keep it if she wants. (If she wants.)

"I'll wait until I see that Jim again--again himself--before I try it," he says, continuing as if there had been no move. "For I would see whether he recalls aught of his time as another man. Myself, I do not."

[livinginmyglass]

The care with which she maintains it may suggest, in fact, that she does not want. But is very aware that she ought to want.

"Truly, nothing at all?" she tilts her head curiously. "I would have gladly known how 'twas, to be another, and to know it and yet not know it."

[never_promised]

He thinks it over, partly so as not to think about whether Viola wants to move closer.

"Thor was my brother," he says slowly. "I was sure of that, and the sureness remains to me. Thor was my brother, and the elder. Well, we were much of an age, but there was a throne meant for him and not for me."

[livinginmyglass]

"Why, thou shalt never be rid of thrones and kings," she teases-- or means to tease, but it doesn't come out quite right.

[never_promised]

"And brothers," he says mildly, letting that slide. "I recall some confusion, ere I was fully myself: if Thor was my brother, and Humphrey, and Thomas, and John, where was there room for poor Hal?"

[livinginmyglass]

"Poor Hal, indeed! Why, there was a time-- it must be many years ago, by thy reckoning-- thou wouldst, I think, have gladly doffed thy title." But maybe that's presuming too much. She quickly adds, "Or else it pleased thee to do so when idling here."

[never_promised]

"'Tis not a condition that can be set aside, once it is thine." He slouches forward, hands clasped between his knees, and looks down at the floor. "I may toss my crown to the floor, say The king is but a man and this man is Hal of London, but Hal of London will still have led England's armies and that crown will still have held King Henry's thoughts both high and low."

He glances sideways to Viola and smiles a tight little smile. "Didst thou prefer me with no title?"

[livinginmyglass]

"Oh, why--" She wants to look away, but feels she can't. "It is not for me to like nor dislike that which is so."

[never_promised]

He makes a small frustrated noise. "Come, thou'rt full of opinion, thought, feeling."

[livinginmyglass]

"And thou art wise," she replies, suddenly frustrated. "Well thou know'st what I would say: ay, I was happier to think you but a gentleman's son, as I am a gentleman's daughter."

[never_promised]

He's quiet for a few moments, then: "I had rather hear you say so, thus, even with that bite of anger, than to hear you say It is not for me to like nor dislike."

[livinginmyglass]

"I, I am not angry," she protests quickly. "But I pray, do not play the priest and catechize me, posing questions whose answers you know."

[never_promised]

"Then--then speak to me not of how I would once have doff'd my title, extract no confessions from me, if thou'lt share none of thine!"

[livinginmyglass]

"Why, there, again!" She laughs, but there's a frustrated edge. She passes a hand through her hair. "What shall I confess that thou dost not know?"

[never_promised]

"Thou givest me too much credit for wisdom, my lady: thou'dst have it that I need ask no questions to know thy mind, that I might sit here silent and know thy heart! Thou wouldst have it that I can hold both sides of a conversation with thee, that I know all thy words in advance--a practiced player who has conned all the parts and can speak one as easily as another! Well, then, say I am so wise: may I still not speak just to hear thy voice?"

[livinginmyglass]

She blushes and ducks her head. "Pardon me, sir. My speech was unfriendly, 'tis true. Methinks--" She takes a breath. "Methinks my bearing towards thee when last we spoke was something too-- familiar. And in my shame to think of it, I read thy tone amiss."

[never_promised]

He drops his head and scrubs his face with his hands, laughing tiredly. "I saw no cause for shame. But I own I would make a poor maid to young ladies, were I called upon to scold them into the strictest propriety. Art thou sick at the thought of sitting too near me for its own sake--it may be I have an ill breath or a pestilent look!--or because nice customs dictate that a gentleman's daughter may not sit where a page would lounge with ease?"

It's probably an unfair question, and he waves it off. "I have a fine plan: go and catch thee another cold, so that we may sit and talk. Or shall I make thee knight of the garter, that thou shalt have it ever in writing: Honi soit qui mal y pense?"

[livinginmyglass]

She laughs. "I would not have thee think I scorn thy company! And I fear no ill thoughts-- save thine."

[never_promised]

"Well! I cannot promise to harbor no ill thoughts, ever--but I can say it would take some very grave misdeeds to make me think ill of thee. So long as thou dost not steal sugar from babes, kick puppies, murder my brothers..."