Oneshot: Conversations
The first time he met her, he was eighteen, having just heard that his father had died, and he was now king. King of England and France, Lord of Ireland, Duke of Lancaster, and His Royal Highness King Henry the Eighth. It was very much to take in.
She on the other hand was a nobody. Nothing at all, being only five years of age and small and petite, as well as looking nearly like a mirror image of his mother. That had alarmed him at first, thinking that this was his long lost sibling, and she had survived when his dear mother Elizabeth of York had died. Then he looked closer, and he found high cheek bones and amber eyes, instead of the crystalline blue he had inherited from his mother.
They sat on the roof quietly, one reading a book on a strange place, while the other flipping through the Royal Book, a statement on what processions and ceremonies should be carried out. The writer of this book was still managing the real processions of court, and he had virtually nothing else to do, having been cowed into submission by the formidable lady.
"Who are you?" The girl started to break the ice. Henry rose, standing upright and feet apart. His first thought was to impress the girl, the second was to order the girl to tell him his name. Then, he thought, it would be rather rude, especially to a little girl.
"Henry." The girl raised her eyebrows.
"Another one? My father is called Henry too, Henry Tudor." He laughed.
"So is mine!" His suspicious were raised. Perhaps she was his unknown sister?
"Whose father isn't called Henry nowadays?" He started to interrogate her. She didn't take the bait, and quickly changed the topic.
"How old are you?"
"Eighteen."
"Five, going on six." She shrugged. "My name is Elizabeth. What are you doing here, Mr. Henry? Hardly anyone comes here."
"It was rather quiet, and I like it here."
"Being quiet, or being here?" She gave a small grin.
"Very funny, Elizabeth. What are your hobbies?" They started talking about all sorts of things. With music, they talk about the advent of those musical instruments in court music, rather than the horrible trumpets which were limited in terms of the melodies they could place. With the art of ruling, Henry had teased Elizabeth when she had found out he was a king, and she had called him with the common term of Mr. Henry.
As the procession emerged, finally from the palace, Henry could still see Elizabeth madly waving to him as he received St. Edward's crown.
