Disclaimer: I neither own Reign, nor profit from this story.

By the next day there was no sign from Catherine to indicate that anything had been amiss at all. Dressed, polished, and bustling through her schedule for the day, she was back in full force.

He was glad to see her feeling better, but he was still incredibly curious about what exactly had happened which caused her to retained such vivid memories form her childhood.

After a week without hearing another word on the matter Henry decided to try and push her along just a little. He knew this could backfire, but Catherine had never been one to freely share anything.

He had been making a point every night since witnessing her nightmare to stop by her rooms before he retired for the evening. They would usually exchanged a few polite words, but he left soon after bidding her goodnight.

Henry decided to invite her to a lunch he had prepared to inquire about her receptiveness to spending a whole evening alone with him. He had arranged for Mary and Francis to occupy the younger children for the evening with an adventure so they would not miss their parents' presence. Even when there was a party or gathering, Catherine always made a point of making an appearance during their evening meal and later to tuck them into bed. However, if all went well she wouldn't feel the need for either tonight.

She agreed hesitantly and so he did his best to tread gently with his preparations, but he was a man on a mission. This led him to enlisting the lady who had assisted Catherine during her nightmare to glean a bit more information. Coercing her into helping him, he used the good grace he had been earning of late to ascertain a few more specifics about her difficult nights to try and pry the information from his wife gently.

This could go very very badly, but he had to know.

Henry had planned a dinner in one of the secluded gardens, followed by a walk that let them to a meadow set a short distance from the Castle. There a carriage waited for their return trip, and held the contents of a small picnic with several desserts and sweet wines. He had also packed a blanket for them to recline on and look up at the stars.

It was early spring, but a warm enough night that they were comfortable without the need for heavy capes or furs.

As Henry unfolded the blankets and set about opening the food and drinks Catherine looked on with appreciation at his continued efforts to regain her affections. She had seen this enthusiasm many times over the years, just never applied to her, and rarely lasting this long for anyone else…at least not without a suitably attractive reason.

When he invited her to join him on the blanket her smile grew as she moved to join him, taking his hand and lowering herself to the ground.

They enjoyed the wine and the treats, regaining the rhythm of conversation that had begin to grow before her…event. She had to admit that she was pleased by how he had handled himself since, never pushing but staying near enough that she knew he cared.

After a particularly amusing statement on his end she found herself laughing freely and they both ended up collapsing back on the blanket side by side, her head resting on his shoulder as they stared up at the stars. After a moment Henry began pointing out different constellations and she eventually joined in. It was one of the pastimes from their youth that they had enjoyed in the weeks before their wedding and many months after.

He knew more than she did at the beginning, but she was never one to be bested by the simple acquisition of knowledge. Catherine soon became familiar with the patterns in the stars so that she could join him as an equal, and was even able to teach Henry a few herself.

Eventually she noticed that his gaze had left the stars and that he was staring at her alone. She felt her breath catch in her throat and for a moment she felt as if even time had stopped.

Knowing that look too well, she realized that his thoughts were no longer on the stars. One of his hands came up to caress her cheek, his eyes remaining fixed for a few more moments before he spoke.

"Caterina Maria Romula di Lorenzo de' Medici, I would very much like to kiss you now."

So caught in the intensity of his gaze, she could only nod her ascent and watch him slowly rise up on one elbow to move his body over hers. When their lips were just a breaths width apart he paused before continuing, "tu sei la mia rosa, mio diletto, la mia vita, e io sono sempre la vostra."

She could have cried. The words spoken in her native tongue touched her so deeply that she couldn't have stopped the journey he had begun if wanted.

To try and decipher who began the kiss or who was currently leading whom would have been a lost cause. Henry had moved nearly on top of her, though his weight rested on his arms, while Catherine's hands moved to grasp his shirt and shoulder to anchor herself and hold him to herself. But eventually Henry began to lighten the kiss and draw away slightly so that they could both catch their breath. He also needed to gauge her reaction a bit more objectively before committing to continuing with his plan.

Save some very awkward moments in the beginning, they never had much trouble coming together physically. They were always equally matched when it came to their shared passions. She was his lioness, and when she began a hunt she always returned with a very satisfying prize.

He was almost hesitant to carry on with his plans, but for once he would not be satisfied with only claiming her body, without the rest of her as well.

Still propped on one elbow, his hands began to wander lightly, asking for nothing but the freedom to touch her as a man newly returned to the arms of his lover. Eventually though, he settled on her hip tracing the lines of an angular scar he now knew she bore underneath, gently, slowly, lovingly.

Her eyes remained dazed from their encounter and he dropped a few more light kisses before speaking again.

"You know without the stars and the constellations, it would be nearly impossible for sailors to navigate the vast spans of the oceans."

Moving his hand to trace another scar on her side, this one a curved arc than ran from nearly her front to back along a rib.

"They mark the way and tell stories of our history, of events that have happened which brought us to the very place and time in which we now reside."

Lost in his words, Catherine did not make the connection until his hand moved once again and trailed along a particularly jagged scar on her thigh. She had always worked especially hard to keep this one from him as the mark felt like an accusation, a blemish that blatantly reminded her of the past. As far as she knew, by the time his gaze got anywhere near it, he was usually far more distracted by other endeavors to notice…and as a result to wonder.

When he traced the exact pattern though of the mark she knew too well, she came to full realization of what his words were leading to and shoved him off of her before getting to her feet enraged.

"How dare you, Henry! You bring me out here and distract me with you words and you kisses, all the while desiring nothing more than to pry out my secrets and strip me bare about a past that does not concern you! Which you have not earned the right to know!"

"I'm just trying to understand, Catherine! Please just…" he tried to get up but her eyes flashed in such a way that he froze in place.

"No Henry," she said, her mere words enough to strike him dead. "I told you that I would tell you some day, but how can I ever trust you enough to tell you when you won't show me that you are willing to give me that time? You have proven once again that you are an immature, pleasure seeking child whose only concern is for your own desires and curiosity, and I am not amused!"

Finishing on a deadly note, she made to leave but turned back to him long enough for one final thought. "And if you aim dear husband was to bed me tonight, you'd better plan make other arrangements."

She turned to make her way back to the Castle so fast, he couldn't have grabbed her shadow if he had tried.

Defeated, Henry collapsed back on the blanket and he considered where his plans had gone so wrong.

He knew from the start that this was a risk, but he didn't think it would go quite this badly.

Now he didn't know if she wold even speak to him tomorrow.

Signing he moved to pack up the remains of the evening and return the carriage to the stables.

When he finally made it back inside the Castle, he walked through the halls and paused when he neared her rooms. Considering whether or not he should seek her out, he thought better of it. She would need to cool down and he would need a new plan, even to just get her back on speaking terms with him.

What a mess he had made.

**Italian Translation: You are my rose, my beloved, my life, and I am forever yours