I had a bunch of things written down for this, little passages jotted into a notebook I had taken on vacation with me, and they blossomed into this. I hope you all enjoy it c:

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When George was younger, the church on the grounds at Hever Castle had frightened him. Not overly elaborate, the building had always seemed to loom over the grounds, the pale stone giving way to black bricks that extended into a point far above – so high that, when he was younger, way younger, before the fear, George had been convinced that he could climb up and reach the clouds; that God would shield him from danger, and allow him to return safety to the green earth that he would often race across, hand-in-hand with his sisters, their laughter free and their hair wild as they ran and ran and ran. But even then, there was a limit to how far, and how fast, they could run. As his sisters grew older, George had thought that limit to be his father. As George himself grew older, he found it instead to be God.

But maybe that was just because he had realized just how much he feared the idea of such a being.

He had always been regaled with tales of Heaven and tales of Hell, but he quickly learned that it was not something to take lightly; that sins would weigh down one's soul, and that if there were enough of them, he would not ascend to Heaven. Instead, his soul would instead sink below the earth into the waiting clutches of sin's master, the Devil; the fallen morning star. Perhaps that wasn't even correct, but it was the base message that had stuck with him all the same. At a young age, he had sworn with vehemence that he would never give the Lord reason to reject his soul.

Up until now, he had upheld that promise. Then he had met Mark Smeaton.

Even now, as Mark speaks in spirited tones to his sister, George finds himself watching him, a smile in place that confuses many that pass him by, for he has never been one to do something like that for no reason. Perhaps many of them will just assume he is smiling for Anne, for her happiness with Henry (for though his sister used to deny it, George can see she loves him very much), and not for the talented musician that flatters her so sincerely, praising her beauty and her skills, and he can live with that. He prefers to live with that, actually, because if he's honest with himself this relationship frightens him a little on many levels.

Sodomy is a sin, one he has known about for as long as he has lived. "A man should not lie with another man," he had once heard, and though he would have once laughed at such a thing occurring he suddenly finds himself feeling like the air has been rushed from his lungs, because as he stares at Smeaton with his smile and his beautifully tanned skin and black hair and his music, he realizes just how deeply he has entangled himself in and with the other man. For he has lain with Mark, and so much more, and he finds that he doesn't regret it, not now, not when such a person belongs to him and solely to him, yielding and unyielding and a challenge and a secret and, if he's honest, a small shame. Even so, the thought strikes George like a tumbler of wine to the head: I gave up Heaven for this man.

A laugh resounds beside him, warm and familiar and filled with undertones he recognizes in an instant, and he feels Mark's hand brush subtly against his before the musician stands beside him, grinning that wide smile of his.

"You look like you're thinking way too hard about something, Boleyn," Mark says jovially, one eyebrow rising. "Half angel for your thoughts."

George chuckles lowly, glancing around the room before returning his attention to Mark. This part is nothing he hasn't seen before, and he'd be a fool if he spent too much time focused on ladies in masks and lies. "My thoughts aren't worth anything less than a Crown of the Rose."

"Ah, but you forget that I am little more than a poor court musician," Mark returns, a spark appearing in his dark eyes.

"Spare me your fake humility," George says with a small snort of amusement.

Mark clicks his tongue, laughing warmly as he inclines his head, his eyes tracing a woman in a green skirt, even as his fingers curl into George's palm, silently assuring him.

"Whatever your thoughts then, Boleyn, keep them for now, for I will find out soon enough!" It is said in a light-hearted tone, and Mark laughs to accompany it, several of the ladies glancing at him coyly from behind their fans before being swept off by their partners. None of them hear the promise infused into those words; none of them hear the invitation, the promise, and George represses a shiver as a dark and entirely pleasant emotion works its way through his body. Without anyone seeing, George curls his hands around Mark's wrist before smirking as the musician withdraws, raising his violin with a small smile and an incline of his head as he makes his way to where the other musicians play.

George is a God-fearing man, and he knows he's done things that he cringes about even now. He was needlessly cruel to his wife on their wedding night, and he regrets that – regrets the mistake of ale, and the roughness in which he treated her. He regrets the way he has responded to many things in the past, regrets his father's ambitions concerning Anne, but as he watches Mark play again – and he will never get tired of watching those fingers fly – he finds that he would relive these regrets and more if it once again lead him to where he was now. For despite Heaven now being lost to him, he finds that, in the darkness of Mark's eyes and the shine of his smile, he no longer cares.

This is his Heaven now, and he is going to enjoy it for as long as he possibly can.

Currency note: A "half angel" was a form of currency introduced by King Henry VII, and was worth around 40 pence. He also introduced the "pound coin," more commonly known as a Sovereign. When King Henry VIII took over, he made some changes, and as a result the "half angel" was changed to a value of 44 pence. He also introduced the "Crown of the Rose," which was worth 54 pence.