Fic: Queen of Hearts
Title: Queen of Hearts
Author: roh_wyn
Rating: PG
Words: 1194
Characters: John/Eleanor
Disclaimer: Little John belongs to the BBC and to legend. Queen Eleanor belongs to history and the world.
Notes: This is a bit more angsty than I originally intended, but I hope it still captures the theme properly. This has not been beta-read, so apologies for any atrocities on spelling and/or grammar.
Summary: A post-S3 look into John and Eleanor's future.
May 1196
Somewhere in Sherwood Forest
When the green of spring is washed away by the first spatter of summer rain, Little John decides to leave. Life here no longer holds his interest. Robin is gone, Allan is gone. The others have scattered, making new lives and finding new loves.
Even now, a year on, John is not sure why he stayed behind in the forest. His first instinct had been to find them-Alice and Little Little John-the ones he had once loved and lost to cruel fate and circumstance. But they had a life separate from his now, and being an unwelcome intruder into their happiness is too bitter a thought for John to bear. So he puts them out of his mind and walked a different path.
At first, without the constant threat of the Sheriff hanging over his head, he rather enjoys forest life. It is steady, quiet, an outward expression of his inner soul. But that same soul calls out, tired of the unbroken solitude, and John listens. He will go wherever his feet take him.
--
June 1196
Aquitaine
When John arrives in Poitiers and walks through the massive doors to Queen Eleanor's stronghold, he is humbled by the size and stature of the place. Nottingham Castle is no more than a lowly manor house in comparison, and he is dwarfed by the structure as much as the occasion.
There are other reasons for John to feel small. He arrives in the grand hall, mud caked on his boots, looking grizzled and far older than his years. He feels out of place, a forest thorn among the velvet-and-silk clad flowers at Eleanor's Court of Love, and when the lady herself graces the place with her presence, skirts trailing majestically on the stone floor, John wishes the earth would open up and swallow him. He is coarse, unworthy, ashamed.
He is so busy staring at the tops of his boots, lost in though, that he barely notices when she approaches him. The look on her face is frank, one of amusement rather than shock, and for that, John is eternally grateful. He tries to speak, but the words stick. Instead, he bows his head in respect and awe.
She laughs, the sound like the peeling of church bells at Christmas. When he looks up, she is holding her arms out to him, welcoming him. "Big Bear! How lovely it is to see you again. Come, you must walk with me."
--
June 1199
Aquitaine
Eleanor shuffles her feet, frowning at the state of her new slippers. She has only herself to blame, because she has been silly enough to wear the dainty things to John's house, set as it is among the bush and brambles at the edge of the woods.
He is now her game warden, and though the position is one of power, he does not care for its trappings. Though it has been three years since he first came to her, he is little changed. As a concession to her, he dresses as the others at court do, and keeps his beard and hair neatly trimmed, but this does nothing to hide the real man, as wild and strong as the forest itself.
She likes him, far more than she likes most men these days. She has known men of great power and wealth, but she is tired now. In the autumn of her life, she no longer wants men who play with their words and toy with her desires. She wants only the truth, and of all the men she has know, John is the only one who speaks it.
Of course, not everyone in Aquitaine admires John as she does. There are those who snigger when she walks with him, calling him Le Petit Ourson, a play on his English name and on Eleanor's nickname for him. John takes it in stride, thinking it a clever joke. But Eleanor knows better. She knows he is resented for having her ear and her heart, over men of better birth and more wealth.
She clucks her tongue in annoyance, catching John's attention.
"Ah, what is it now, my lady?" He insists on addressing her this way, even if she hardly behaves like a lady in his company.
"Let me give you a house. In town. It's more fitting a man of your-"
"No. I tried it once, remember? It doesn't suit me." He takes her hand and steers her towards the bed, shifting their conversation to more pleasant matters.
She giggles and slips her hand into his open shirt collar. "I don't like what they say about you."
He kisses her softly and sits her down on the edge of the bed. "It doesn't matter to me. I'm bigger than that."
Eleanor laughs at the clever pun and wraps her arms about his neck, pulling him down to her level. "Oh, I have no doubt that you're the bigger man. But perhaps you’d like to show me?"
--
March 1204
Fontevraud Abbey
It has been three years since circumstance-the bloody struggles of her son and grandson-have forced Eleanor to take the veil. She is not a willing bride of Christ, but she is true to her word. Once she is sequestered in the Abbey, she keeps away from all matters of state. Leaving behind her court is of no consequence, for she is happy for the respite from its intrigue and malice. She regrets only that she cannot see John. The separation is difficult at first, but after a time, John stops pressing her to visit him. He understands her situation, and she admits that he is, in all things, wiser than she is. But he does not leave Aquitaine, much to her surprise, and so she lives in hope that she will see him again one day.
Eleanor is close to death now. Indeed, she can almost see the Gates of Heaven. She does not lament the end, nor does she gather her loved ones around her, to weep and wail at her death. Instead, she asks only for her Big Bear. At first, the abbess does not understand the request, but after a few days, when Eleanor has explained, the abbess chuckles fondly and sends for John.
She cannot see him well in the darkness of her room, but when he takes her hand, she feels his strength through her fingers. He is all truth and goodness, and she thinks it a shame they are to be parted soon. When he hears these words, he shakes his mane of hair and tells her only that she will live forever.
She laughs, the effort dissolving in a racking cough. "Ah, Big Bear, no. I don't want to live that long. But I shall see you again in Heaven, if God wills it."
He nods and she sees the first tears forming in his eyes. She scrubs at them with a weakened hand. "Only, I ask you to not keep me waiting too long, John. It is not right for a queen to wait so long for the king of her heart."
--
Author: roh_wyn
Rating: PG
Words: 1194
Characters: John/Eleanor
Disclaimer: Little John belongs to the BBC and to legend. Queen Eleanor belongs to history and the world.
Notes: This is a bit more angsty than I originally intended, but I hope it still captures the theme properly. This has not been beta-read, so apologies for any atrocities on spelling and/or grammar.
Summary: A post-S3 look into John and Eleanor's future.
May 1196
Somewhere in Sherwood Forest
When the green of spring is washed away by the first spatter of summer rain, Little John decides to leave. Life here no longer holds his interest. Robin is gone, Allan is gone. The others have scattered, making new lives and finding new loves.
Even now, a year on, John is not sure why he stayed behind in the forest. His first instinct had been to find them-Alice and Little Little John-the ones he had once loved and lost to cruel fate and circumstance. But they had a life separate from his now, and being an unwelcome intruder into their happiness is too bitter a thought for John to bear. So he puts them out of his mind and walked a different path.
At first, without the constant threat of the Sheriff hanging over his head, he rather enjoys forest life. It is steady, quiet, an outward expression of his inner soul. But that same soul calls out, tired of the unbroken solitude, and John listens. He will go wherever his feet take him.
--
June 1196
Aquitaine
When John arrives in Poitiers and walks through the massive doors to Queen Eleanor's stronghold, he is humbled by the size and stature of the place. Nottingham Castle is no more than a lowly manor house in comparison, and he is dwarfed by the structure as much as the occasion.
There are other reasons for John to feel small. He arrives in the grand hall, mud caked on his boots, looking grizzled and far older than his years. He feels out of place, a forest thorn among the velvet-and-silk clad flowers at Eleanor's Court of Love, and when the lady herself graces the place with her presence, skirts trailing majestically on the stone floor, John wishes the earth would open up and swallow him. He is coarse, unworthy, ashamed.
He is so busy staring at the tops of his boots, lost in though, that he barely notices when she approaches him. The look on her face is frank, one of amusement rather than shock, and for that, John is eternally grateful. He tries to speak, but the words stick. Instead, he bows his head in respect and awe.
She laughs, the sound like the peeling of church bells at Christmas. When he looks up, she is holding her arms out to him, welcoming him. "Big Bear! How lovely it is to see you again. Come, you must walk with me."
--
June 1199
Aquitaine
Eleanor shuffles her feet, frowning at the state of her new slippers. She has only herself to blame, because she has been silly enough to wear the dainty things to John's house, set as it is among the bush and brambles at the edge of the woods.
He is now her game warden, and though the position is one of power, he does not care for its trappings. Though it has been three years since he first came to her, he is little changed. As a concession to her, he dresses as the others at court do, and keeps his beard and hair neatly trimmed, but this does nothing to hide the real man, as wild and strong as the forest itself.
She likes him, far more than she likes most men these days. She has known men of great power and wealth, but she is tired now. In the autumn of her life, she no longer wants men who play with their words and toy with her desires. She wants only the truth, and of all the men she has know, John is the only one who speaks it.
Of course, not everyone in Aquitaine admires John as she does. There are those who snigger when she walks with him, calling him Le Petit Ourson, a play on his English name and on Eleanor's nickname for him. John takes it in stride, thinking it a clever joke. But Eleanor knows better. She knows he is resented for having her ear and her heart, over men of better birth and more wealth.
She clucks her tongue in annoyance, catching John's attention.
"Ah, what is it now, my lady?" He insists on addressing her this way, even if she hardly behaves like a lady in his company.
"Let me give you a house. In town. It's more fitting a man of your-"
"No. I tried it once, remember? It doesn't suit me." He takes her hand and steers her towards the bed, shifting their conversation to more pleasant matters.
She giggles and slips her hand into his open shirt collar. "I don't like what they say about you."
He kisses her softly and sits her down on the edge of the bed. "It doesn't matter to me. I'm bigger than that."
Eleanor laughs at the clever pun and wraps her arms about his neck, pulling him down to her level. "Oh, I have no doubt that you're the bigger man. But perhaps you’d like to show me?"
--
March 1204
Fontevraud Abbey
It has been three years since circumstance-the bloody struggles of her son and grandson-have forced Eleanor to take the veil. She is not a willing bride of Christ, but she is true to her word. Once she is sequestered in the Abbey, she keeps away from all matters of state. Leaving behind her court is of no consequence, for she is happy for the respite from its intrigue and malice. She regrets only that she cannot see John. The separation is difficult at first, but after a time, John stops pressing her to visit him. He understands her situation, and she admits that he is, in all things, wiser than she is. But he does not leave Aquitaine, much to her surprise, and so she lives in hope that she will see him again one day.
Eleanor is close to death now. Indeed, she can almost see the Gates of Heaven. She does not lament the end, nor does she gather her loved ones around her, to weep and wail at her death. Instead, she asks only for her Big Bear. At first, the abbess does not understand the request, but after a few days, when Eleanor has explained, the abbess chuckles fondly and sends for John.
She cannot see him well in the darkness of her room, but when he takes her hand, she feels his strength through her fingers. He is all truth and goodness, and she thinks it a shame they are to be parted soon. When he hears these words, he shakes his mane of hair and tells her only that she will live forever.
She laughs, the effort dissolving in a racking cough. "Ah, Big Bear, no. I don't want to live that long. But I shall see you again in Heaven, if God wills it."
He nods and she sees the first tears forming in his eyes. She scrubs at them with a weakened hand. "Only, I ask you to not keep me waiting too long, John. It is not right for a queen to wait so long for the king of her heart."
--