Lady of the Wood

XI. Genevieve

It didn't take me long to find Henry. He was throwing pebbles into the stream, just where I thought he would be. I dismounted and left Ophelia to graze with her sister. As I walked over to Henry, his head jerked in my direction as his hand flew to his belt, where his sword was sheathed.

"Genevieve," He whispered. "Oh, Genevieve." He stood up and walked over to me, pulling me to him and wrapping his arms around me tightly.

"Henry," I echoed, wrapping my arms around him one hand on his shoulder, the other tangled in his hair. "Why did you run off?" I asked as gently as I could.

"I couldn't do it," was all he said before burying his face in my neck as his shoulders started to shake ever so slightly. He was crying, I realized. High King Henry Bartholomew Bennet William III was crying for me.

"Couldn't do what, love?" I pulled him even closer to me and held him as he cried. After all the times he'd held me as I cried, it was the least I could do.

"I--" He choked on his words, "I couldn't stand to look at the face of the woman I loved, and know that she had suffered like that. I couldn't stand the idea of you living like that, helpless, scared, and broken at the hands of your own father." He straightened his stance, still holding me close but looking me in the eyes. He moved a hand to cup my cheek, and he continued, "It angered me that he would have the audacity to treat a woman as angelic as yourself like she was no more than a wild dog. It angered me that you were left defenseless against his wrath, that I can't protect you from the thing that haunts you most."

"Henry," I looked up into the emerald pools of his eyes that had captured my attention from the moment I first caught sight of them. "If it bothered you so much, why didn't you say something? I wouldn't have told you as much as I did if you had told me how much it pained you to hear it." I let my fingers twist the hair at the back of his neck around them and pressed my forehead to his.

"I don't know why I didn't say something," He closed his eyes. "All I could think about was that I couldn't bring myself to stop you because I had to know. I had to know what kind of a monster he really was, but what upset me most was to see you so distraught at the mere memory of your father. I can't imagine what it must have been like for you, and, selfish as it may be, I don't want to imagine it. And yet, I couldn't help but picture you alone in your room, cold, hungry, and aching."

"Shh," I comforted him. You don't have to imagine it ever again, my dear, never again," I reassured him as we stood there, foreheads pressed together, breath mingling between us. Every single nerve in my body was on fire. As close as he'd held me before, it had never been as desperate of an embrace as this, clutching me to himself as though I were the only things keeping him from slipping into madness.

"Good," His breath bathed my cheek as the words rumbled through his throat. "You'll never suffer like that again, Genevieve, I promise." With that promise he tipped my face to his, and pressed a kiss to my lips.

When he'd kissed me before, it was tentative, nervous even, but not now. Now he kissed me with confidence, with need, and with a strength I hadn't known he possessed. One hand was planted firmly in the small of my back, effectively keeping me from slipping out of his grasp, the other holding my face to his, fingers slowly creeping into my hair and knotting themselves there. I kissed him with the same fervor, suddenly hungry for his kiss. My hand slipped up his back to clutch at his shoulder and the other tangled itself further into his golden curls. A tear slid down my cheek, and another followed it. Henry started to cry again too, and soon I couldn't tell who's tears belonged to who.

He only pulled away when he ran out of breath. He rested his forehead against mine again, his lips barely hovering above mine, and smiled softly. I let out a shaky breath and smiled along with him. "Henry?" I whispered.