October 29th, 1505
20 years later
He hadn't turned to look at her since she entered the room. He had continued to stare through one of the room's windows, appearing lost in thought as he watched the snow gradually falling on his land. His hands were clasped behind his back, his shoulders squared and back in regal pride and grace. His brown hair was streaked with grey, but still long, dancing just above his shoulders.
Adelaide wished he would turn to look at her. She wanted to know how he had changed. Did his face have more laugh lines than frown lines? Was he still as handsome as she remembered? Was there anything remaining of the boy she had left behind so many years ago?
"You can set up your things over there," Henry said rather solemnly, still not directly addressing her. She had intended to follow his instructions, but when she went to move towards the canvas placed in the center of the room, she found her limbs lethargic and heavy.
How did one address a king again? She had served several over the years in various courts, but suddenly any words of formality were lost to her.
She readjusted her bag of paints and brushes as she contemplated an appropriate greeting, and the sound drew the King's attention to finally turn and look at her.
Brown eyes met blue, and the room seemed to go utterly still.
Adelaide couldn't even hear the fireplace crackling in the room or the distant sounds of servants bustling through the halls. The only thing she could focus on was the sharp intake of Henry's breath as his gaze widened in shock and disbelief.
He looked like she'd just slapped him.
And Adelaide couldn't help it, she laughed.
"Surprise?" She said sheepishly. And then she cringed. Those had not been the first words that she had wanted to say to him. Adelaide had rehearsed their reunion in her head and dreamed about it a countless number of times, but just as she had forgotten royal etiquette, none of those fantasies sprung to mind.
Henry continued looking at her as if he was seeing a ghost. The quiet of the room hung and unlike in the past, it was not a comfortable silence between them. Adelaide shifted on her feet, coughed to clear her throat, and gravitated towards the easel. There wasn't much else set up in the room, which meant there wasn't really anything else to distract her attention. She contemplated gazing at the portraits that hung on the wall to give herself something to focus on, but she never liked looking at the work of others before she herself painted. She found their images stuck in her head and distracted her from her own style.
"Would you like to take a seat?" Adelaide asked rather stiffly. She gestured towards the single chair positioned in front of the canvas as she began to unload her supplies. She added after a beat, "Your Majesty?"
Henry's mouth snapped closed as he shook the daze from his head. "You were sent to paint me?"
"I was," she nodded, refusing to make eye contact as she ran her brushes through her hands. "I've painted a number of things for the Holy Roman Empire, so when Herman Rinck proposed hiring me, Emperor Maximilian [I] had no opposition."
When Henry didn't respond, Adelaide finally raised her head to face him. She wasn't prepared for the amount of pride she would see in his eyes.
"You've been hired by the Holy Roman Emperor?" He asked in astonishment as he finally began to migrate towards the center of the room. His nearing proximity had Adelaide's heart racing. She almost wanted to scoff at her body's reaction. It had been twenty years and she was still reacting to him as she had as a child?
"I've been hired by a number of people," she said coyly, allowing herself a small egotistical smirk. Henry's laugh eased some of the tension in the room, and she felt much more relaxed as he took a seat in front of her. He straightened his posture, turned slightly so that his profile was at an angle, and took a steadying breath as he stilled his movements. Adelaide, for a moment, couldn't stop the flash of memories that bombarded her as she recalled the times she had painted him in the past. Those had all been informal, though. Now, in front of her was a king, a king who was clearly well-accustomed to being painted.
They were silent for a moment as Adelaide started working. She mixed a few colors together to get the background she wanted before she set the paintbrush on the canvas and began.
Second by second, minute by minute, the portrait began to take shape. The blue-green background, the shape of Henry's shoulders, the sharpness of his nose, the reds and gold of his robe. He didn't move, barely even blinked as she painted, and gradually the silence that stretched became less suffocating. An old comfort slipped into the space that separated them, and for a brief moment, it was as if no time had passed at all. She was seventeen again, him sixteen, and she was drawing his profile intending on slipping the image underneath her pillow where it would remain hidden from him. The memory had her smiling to herself.
"What happened after you left?" The question was asked in a voice barely louder than a whisper, but the words rang clear as if they'd be shouted. When Adelaide focused on Henry's face, his brows had furrowed together almost as if he regretted asking the question.
She paused before saying, "I returned home."
Adelaide didn't immediately continue and Henry didn't press her to elaborate. She finished another section of the painting before sighing and lowering the brush.
"I had wanted to reunite with Mirian. Thank her for all she had done for me. But I learned from her son that she had passed away a few years prior. An unknown sickness had swept through the town and claimed her along with her two daughters. Her son and her husband were kind to me, though. They allowed me to stay with them for a while, and after a couple of weeks, I made the decision to head back to France.
"Jean de Paris was still interested in my talent and managed to convince Lady Anne to offer me a position in her court again. Seeing as it was probably rude to reject her twice, I accepted," Adelaide paused as she resumed her brush strokes. She found it strange revisiting the past like this. It was both pleasant and uncomfortable.
"Is that why you look like that?" Henry asked, indicating with his eyes to her short hair and men's clothing.
Adelaide nodded with a half-smile. "I didn't really have a desire to be either a man or a woman at that time. I still don't particularly care. But being a man is more convenient and I like pants more than skirts, and short hair is easier to manage."
Henry laughed again, but this time the sound was more restrained.
"I studied alongside Jean for a couple of years before I chose to leave France," Adelaide eventually continued. "I wanted to see Italy in particular. I had heard so many incredible things about the art there. When I was in Florence, I met a man named Leonardo da Vinci, and I studied under him for a while. He took me to Hungary to meet King Matthias Corvinus, and to Milan to paint for the Duke. I learned a lot from him. We still speak on occasion. He's back in Florence at the moment designing a mural for the Signoria."
"I've heard of da Vinci," was all Henry said in response.
"I've traveled a lot, Henry," she said softly, not even realizing how casually she was speaking with him. "I've seen and met a number of people. Been commissioned for a number of art pieces. It's been an adventure."
Adelaide finished speaking and took a step away from her canvas to regard her work's progress. As she looked between it and Henry, she startled, her chest tightening as she registered the pain on his face.
"What's wrong, Henry?" She panicked, stepping around the canvas and moving towards him. There was unmistakable sadness in his eyes, and Henry practically darted away from her, moving swiftly to the opposite end of the room. He ran his hands repeatedly over his face, his breathing harsh and quick, and his body trembled. When he spun towards her once more, unshed tears swam in his gaze along with an emotion she couldn't name.
"Did you never love anyone?" His voice cracked as he said the words. "You never married?"
And then as if someone had turned a key, everything clicked in Adelaide's head. The unknown emotion? It was guilt.
She considered lying to him. But the thought was pushed aside almost as quickly as it had arrived.
With a shake of her head, Adelaide smiled sadly at him.
"I have only known two loves in my life, Henry: art and you."
Something broke in Henry at her words and she almost regretted telling him the truth. But before he could run from her again, Adelaide was across the room and taking his hands in her own. She forced him to look at her. Even just maintaining eye contact seemed to be causing him physical anguish.
"I do not resent you for loving her, Henry," Adelaide whispered, pouring every ounce of honesty she could muster into her voice. "If anything, I am glad that you did."
Some of the pain ebbed from him, but the unshed tears lingered. He opened his mouth to speak, but words failed him.
Adelaide was patient, though. She waited, just as he had done for her.
"I didn't want to," he admitted, his voice catching at the end. "I tried to keep her at a distance, but after our son was born—" the mention of his firstborn had the tears finally spilling. "After our son was born, things changed between us. She became my greatest support, and before I even knew it, I loved her."
They were silent for a moment. Henry seemed unable to look at Adelaide now, and it was with a soft touch that she tilted his chin upwards.
"Henry," she said softly, a gentle smile easing easily onto her face. "After we parted from one another, I was so incredibly miserable without you. I had even hoped that you were as miserable as me. But after some time, when I learned you had named your son Arthur, I realized I did not want you to be in a marriage with someone you did not love. I did not want to be a constant and painful reminder for you, something you grieved and longed for. I wanted you to look back on our time together fondly, not dread it or regret the choices you made. I wanted you to be happy, Henry. I wanted you and Elizabeth to both be happy."
At some point, Adelaide had joined Henry in crying. He brought her into his arms without hesitation, and they stood clinging to one another.
"Thank you for naming him after me," she said into the crook of his neck. "It is the greatest honor anyone has ever bestowed upon me."
"The honor was mine," he said back, his breath tickling her ear. "I wanted to acknowledge you in some way. Your support. Your love. I had wanted to give it to him."
Adelaide knew his tears were not just for her and the guilt he bore for moving on. He cried now for his deceased wife and his deceased son, along with all the grievances he had to bear on his own without them or his uncle.
"I visited Jasper's grave not long ago," she found herself saying to him, her grip tightening. "I wish I could have been there for his burial."
"You were," Henry said, increasing the strength in his embrace as he straightened. "He never stopped thinking of you."
Adelaide hiccuped through another stream of tears.
"I do not think I'll be able to finish the painting today," she said gently as she stroked his back, his hair. He cradled her against him as if she was fragile and she hugged him as if it would keep him from falling apart.
"Will you return tomorrow?" He uttered after gaining better control of himself.
"Of course. If you'll have me," she said back just as quietly.
They broke apart after another moment, and Adelaide wiped his tears from his cheeks as he did the same for her, a soft smile pulling at the corners of his lips now.
"Would you like to accompany me as I go in search of my son? I hear you made him a knight after the Battle of Blackheath. He's apparently an outstanding jouster, too," she commented while moving to gather her things.
"Roland grew into a fine, young man, Adelaide," said Henry. Pride swelled in her chest at the words. "He has two daughters, too: Grace and Jane."
"I'm a grandmother?" Adelaide nearly shouted, spinning to look at Henry in bewilderment. The King of England threw his head back and laughed loudly at her reaction.
"You're not alone," he tried to say while clutching his stomach. "Kayden has been a grandfather for a few years now, too."
A prick of melancholy shot up Adelaide's spine. "Is he here as well?"
Henry nodded, his laughter subsiding into chuckles. "I'm sure we can find him somewhere around here."
Adelaide gave a soft nod as she laughed. She gave her workstation one last once over before following Henry out of the royal rooms.
"Will I see you again after the painting is finished?" He asked as they walked. His tone was hesitant as if he partially feared her answer.
With a sweet smile and a slight step closer to him, Adelaide folded her arms behind her back and said again, "Of course. If you'll have me."
And that promise was enough. For both of them.
THE END