[FICATHON] Yield Day to Night, or, The Problem with Imported Queens, for fionn_a_bhair
Title: Yield Day to Night, or, the Problem with Imported Queens
Author: roz_mcclure
Play: between Henry V and 1 Henry VI
Recipient: fionn_a_bhair
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Katherine/Suffolk
Summary: "Ned, I think the Queen Dowager is hitting on me," the fourth earl of Suffolk was overheard to say in the Temple Bar on a Friday afternoon during the recess of Parliament.
Rating: PG
I.
Katherine wept the way she did everything else: beautifully, and with purpose. Suffolk was not yet experienced enough that he remembered to assume the latter was true with court women as well as court men. He took her arm, left the king's brothers, ignored Bedford leaning on his sword outside the Abbey and led the queen to sit on a stone bench. It was late September and the air was cool. The great towers of Westminster, where the king's body lay that night, were black against the sobering blue sky and the white points of stars beginning to show themselves.
"What, um." Katherine was sniffling and he'd vomited in his only handkerchief when the king's body passed him that afternoon. Suffolk laid a comforting arm around her slender shoulders and scrabbled silently through his clothing with his other hand. Silk, anything? His cloak was velvet, as was his doublet; his stockings! Suffolk worked off his shoe and stroked her hair. "There, there."
The queen stopped crying, sat up suddenly and stared at him fixedly. Christ, Suffolk had forgotten how unnerving she could be. Katherine was supposed to be the pale, wilting flower that Harry had saved from her possibly poisonous and undoubtedly terrifying mother's influence; but Isabel de Valois may have squeezed in more of that venomous drip than any of the English men suspected. "I like your 'at," Katherine said.
"Thank you," Suffolk said after a moment. His left stocking was sagging down his calf. Although he knew the queen might start weeping again at any moment (wasn't that what bereaved women did at funerals? He couldn't remember Harry's father's; he and Somerset and Somerset's uncle Winchester had been in the back pew of the Abbey with a barrel of communion wine), Suffolk's mind was less on finding a makeshift handkerchief than on whatever the queen was doing to his doublet points.
II.
"Ned, I think the Queen Dowager is hitting on me," the fourth earl of Suffolk was overheard to say in the Temple Bar on a Friday afternoon during the recess of Parliament. The fourth earl of Somerset was seen to look to the ceiling and remove his friend's drink.
"You wish," he said.
"What was that?"
"Ywis!" Somerset responded cheerfully with a false grin.
Suffolk leaned back in his seat and hooked his boot heel on the table leg. "What am I supposed to do? She nearly had my upper layers off before Bedford stalked by with his shining and thank-god-it's-whocking sword, all Hero of Agincourt, so she got upset and dashed off, leaving me to explain what I was doing with my doublet all unbraced and my stockings around my knees. You know Bedford, Ned-"
"Nasty piece of work," Somerset nodded.
"-and now since he's all Designated Protector he'll be following her, she'll be following me...hey! Do you think if we could make Exeter jealous enough to start following Bedford around, we could start a secret conga line?"
"My friend, I don't say this to you very often," Somerset said, "but this is a stupider idea than the Great Ravenspurgh Bender."
Suffolk sighed. "You say that all the time. Ned, what am I going to do?"
"Stop drinking. I have a plan..."
III.
"That was, er, new," Suffolk said. He looked for his clothes and found them neatly folded on a high-backed chair beside the bed. How had they gotten there? He last remembered his shirt in a flung heap on the floor, and his hose tangled somewhere at the foot of the bed. Whoever the queen's new wardrobe-master was, he was good. Or possibly voyeuristic. No reason why the man couldn't be both.
"New for you?" Katherine trilled a delighted laugh. "I am flattered - it was an excellent first try - but I thought you were a married man?"
"I am," Suffolk said. "Not, I didn't mean my first time ever. Just with a widow - although I suppose that isn't strictly true - no, with a queen." He sat up and reached for his hose. "What do you mean, good first try?"
Katherine looked gracefully down just long enough for Suffolk to suspect it was not an unpractised embarrassment. She reached over and rang a bell on her dressing-table. "Perhaps I think you should go," she said.
"Perhaps I think I should, too," Suffolk said. He rubbed his eyes. Somerset's plan had involved plying the lady with bereavement wine and then distracting her with...something. Maybe Somerset was going to do the distracting. Whatever it was, Suffolk had forgot it halfway through the third bottle, and whenever Suffolk forgot something he tried to seduce someone to make up for it, and - in retrospect, sending him out into the wolf's keep with shiny new points and a case of wine wasn't one of Somerset's best plans, either, so he could shut up about the Great Ravenspurgh Bender already.
A tall Welshman entered, with the royal wardrobe-master's badge on his chest, bearing a pressed dressing-gown. Katherine brushed the sheets from herself and directed him to lay it on a chest in the far corner. Suffolk looked him up, looked him down, picked up his own sorted clothing and stomped out to dress himself in the corridor.
He was squinting around the corner for the stables when a rough arm clapped heavily on his shoulders. He heard the familiar swish of an always-unsheathed sword and gulped.
"Nice morning, isn't it?" Bedford said.
"Hey, is that Owen Tudor leaning out the queen's window?" Suffolk said, ducked and ran.
IV.
Somerset hardly looked embarrassed at all when Suffolk told him how their plan had failed, and even laughed a little and had no answer when Suffolk demanded, "What did you think was going to happen?"
"I knew she had your style, Pole," Somerset said. "No worries about Bedford chasing you around now."
Some time later, Suffolk said, "I tell you what, though, Ned. French queens. Never. Again."
He drained his glass of rosé and looked up for another.
Author: roz_mcclure
Play: between Henry V and 1 Henry VI
Recipient: fionn_a_bhair
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Katherine/Suffolk
Summary: "Ned, I think the Queen Dowager is hitting on me," the fourth earl of Suffolk was overheard to say in the Temple Bar on a Friday afternoon during the recess of Parliament.
Rating: PG
I.
Katherine wept the way she did everything else: beautifully, and with purpose. Suffolk was not yet experienced enough that he remembered to assume the latter was true with court women as well as court men. He took her arm, left the king's brothers, ignored Bedford leaning on his sword outside the Abbey and led the queen to sit on a stone bench. It was late September and the air was cool. The great towers of Westminster, where the king's body lay that night, were black against the sobering blue sky and the white points of stars beginning to show themselves.
"What, um." Katherine was sniffling and he'd vomited in his only handkerchief when the king's body passed him that afternoon. Suffolk laid a comforting arm around her slender shoulders and scrabbled silently through his clothing with his other hand. Silk, anything? His cloak was velvet, as was his doublet; his stockings! Suffolk worked off his shoe and stroked her hair. "There, there."
The queen stopped crying, sat up suddenly and stared at him fixedly. Christ, Suffolk had forgotten how unnerving she could be. Katherine was supposed to be the pale, wilting flower that Harry had saved from her possibly poisonous and undoubtedly terrifying mother's influence; but Isabel de Valois may have squeezed in more of that venomous drip than any of the English men suspected. "I like your 'at," Katherine said.
"Thank you," Suffolk said after a moment. His left stocking was sagging down his calf. Although he knew the queen might start weeping again at any moment (wasn't that what bereaved women did at funerals? He couldn't remember Harry's father's; he and Somerset and Somerset's uncle Winchester had been in the back pew of the Abbey with a barrel of communion wine), Suffolk's mind was less on finding a makeshift handkerchief than on whatever the queen was doing to his doublet points.
II.
"Ned, I think the Queen Dowager is hitting on me," the fourth earl of Suffolk was overheard to say in the Temple Bar on a Friday afternoon during the recess of Parliament. The fourth earl of Somerset was seen to look to the ceiling and remove his friend's drink.
"You wish," he said.
"What was that?"
"Ywis!" Somerset responded cheerfully with a false grin.
Suffolk leaned back in his seat and hooked his boot heel on the table leg. "What am I supposed to do? She nearly had my upper layers off before Bedford stalked by with his shining and thank-god-it's-whocking sword, all Hero of Agincourt, so she got upset and dashed off, leaving me to explain what I was doing with my doublet all unbraced and my stockings around my knees. You know Bedford, Ned-"
"Nasty piece of work," Somerset nodded.
"-and now since he's all Designated Protector he'll be following her, she'll be following me...hey! Do you think if we could make Exeter jealous enough to start following Bedford around, we could start a secret conga line?"
"My friend, I don't say this to you very often," Somerset said, "but this is a stupider idea than the Great Ravenspurgh Bender."
Suffolk sighed. "You say that all the time. Ned, what am I going to do?"
"Stop drinking. I have a plan..."
III.
"That was, er, new," Suffolk said. He looked for his clothes and found them neatly folded on a high-backed chair beside the bed. How had they gotten there? He last remembered his shirt in a flung heap on the floor, and his hose tangled somewhere at the foot of the bed. Whoever the queen's new wardrobe-master was, he was good. Or possibly voyeuristic. No reason why the man couldn't be both.
"New for you?" Katherine trilled a delighted laugh. "I am flattered - it was an excellent first try - but I thought you were a married man?"
"I am," Suffolk said. "Not, I didn't mean my first time ever. Just with a widow - although I suppose that isn't strictly true - no, with a queen." He sat up and reached for his hose. "What do you mean, good first try?"
Katherine looked gracefully down just long enough for Suffolk to suspect it was not an unpractised embarrassment. She reached over and rang a bell on her dressing-table. "Perhaps I think you should go," she said.
"Perhaps I think I should, too," Suffolk said. He rubbed his eyes. Somerset's plan had involved plying the lady with bereavement wine and then distracting her with...something. Maybe Somerset was going to do the distracting. Whatever it was, Suffolk had forgot it halfway through the third bottle, and whenever Suffolk forgot something he tried to seduce someone to make up for it, and - in retrospect, sending him out into the wolf's keep with shiny new points and a case of wine wasn't one of Somerset's best plans, either, so he could shut up about the Great Ravenspurgh Bender already.
A tall Welshman entered, with the royal wardrobe-master's badge on his chest, bearing a pressed dressing-gown. Katherine brushed the sheets from herself and directed him to lay it on a chest in the far corner. Suffolk looked him up, looked him down, picked up his own sorted clothing and stomped out to dress himself in the corridor.
He was squinting around the corner for the stables when a rough arm clapped heavily on his shoulders. He heard the familiar swish of an always-unsheathed sword and gulped.
"Nice morning, isn't it?" Bedford said.
"Hey, is that Owen Tudor leaning out the queen's window?" Suffolk said, ducked and ran.
IV.
Somerset hardly looked embarrassed at all when Suffolk told him how their plan had failed, and even laughed a little and had no answer when Suffolk demanded, "What did you think was going to happen?"
"I knew she had your style, Pole," Somerset said. "No worries about Bedford chasing you around now."
Some time later, Suffolk said, "I tell you what, though, Ned. French queens. Never. Again."
He drained his glass of rosé and looked up for another.