~The last words.~
I have been standing in my corner along with the cameramen, behind the director and his assistants. No one was talking, no one was whispering… because these were the last shootings for Henry V. In silence I crossed my hands on my chest and looked at the actress who was playing the part of Katharine.
Blond… blue eyes… pure white skin… I closed my eyes when I felt the monster of jealousy waking up again inside me. I exhaled and turned my head to look at Tom. It was amazing how the red velvet, he was wearing, was making his eyes having that breathtaking blue. “Control yourself his is just acting…” I reminded myself and looked at the Hiddleston’s ring around my finger.
“O fair Katharine, if you will love me soundly with
your French heart, I will be glad to hear you
confess it brokenly with your English tongue…”
Tom- I mean King Henry, stopped for a second and looked at her while he was standing up and tangled his fingers.
“Do you like me, Kate?” He asked her then.
“Pardonnez-moi, I cannot tell vat is 'like me.'” Princess Katharine replied to him.
The monster rolled over inside me. I tried to stop it but it took over my eyes and looked at what I was looking.
“An angel is like you, Kate, and you are like an angel.” King Henry answered and the monster inside me growled.
“Why are you making such a big deal out of it? He is JUST. ACTING. Control yourself!” I found the strength to scroll myself. The monster didn’t seem to give up. It didn’t seem to even listen to me. “This is madness! Alice! I command you to control yourself. There is no reason for you to feel like this. He is acting, you know it and he has told you so many times, that he loves you! Now he is acting! Get over it!”
“Is it possible dat I sould love de enemy of France?” Princess Katharine asked.
“No; it is not possible you should love the enemy of
France, Kate: but, in loving me, you should love
the friend of France; for I love France so well that
I will not part with a village of it; I will have it
all mine: and, Kate, when France is mine and I am
yours, then yours is France and you are mine.” King Henry said very well.
I looked up and took a beep breath. They continued talking, reciting the words of Shakespeare. Such a romantic scene, so beautiful words, and who would be better to recite these words from Tom?
I remembered last night and a smile appeared on my face while the monster inside me started calming down. Tom had placed his body on top of mine with his head on my belly and from times to times I could feel his warm lips kissing my skin. I was caressing his hair and looking at him. I remembered his voice in my ears, I remembered him reciting me those beautiful words for practise and in the place of the Princesses’ name he was adding mine instead. He had turned his face and looking into my eyes. He had said:
“Then I will kiss your lips, Alice...” I had giggled and leaned forward to him.
Tom then got on his knees, on the bed, placed his palms on my cheeks and kissed me with the most romantic kiss that made my heart winging. When our lips separated Tom had said to me:
“You have witchcraft in your lips, Alice: there is
more eloquence in a sugar touch of them than in the
