A/N: This is Greenfield's, a songfic for a young Catherine of Aragon (between the death of Arthur and her marriage to Henry), set to Taylor Swift's 'Hey Stephen'. Please review!
Hey Stephen, I know looks can be deceiving
But I know I saw a light in you
And as we walked we were talking
I didn't say half the things I wanted to
"Good morrow to you, Princess"
Catalina (or Catherine, as she was now known) drew her gaze reluctantly away from the swans on the river that rushed beside her new home. Swans mated for life, she recalled, just as she and Arthur would have done, had he lived. Had the marriage been consummated. A terrible, sinful part of her was almost glad Arthur was dead. She had been strong, ready and willing to do her duty as the future Queen of England, but Arthur had been weak, and she knew that if their marriage had continued, no children would have ever been born to her, and she so wanted children, the country needed heirs. She would not pretend that she had loved Arthur as these two swans loved each other, despite the fact that she was swathed in black.
"Princess?"
Catherine had turned without seeing, but at this prompt, she did see. And what she saw startled her.
A messenger stood before her, looking to be roughly the same age as herself. He was very handsome, with curls of golden hair like the angel Gabriel and dark eyes that shone with a vivid inner light. His smile was warm and friendly – his was the only friendly face she had seen in the year since Arthur's death that she had been neglected, other than that of her beloved Maria de Salinas. She could not resist smiling in return, though it was quite against decorum to smile so amiably while in mourning.
"Yes?" she tried to sound distant, as she was supposed to with the servants, but she was sure than her emerald eyes were betraying how delighted she was to see such a handsome and cheerful man in the gardens of her run down new home. She was sure he had noticed, for his smile deepened. He had dimples in his cheeks.
"I have a message for you that the King has passed on, from your mother" he paused, "It is a lengthy message"
"It is?" she cocked her head, longing to release her bright auburn hair from its restricting hairstyle, desperate to catch his eye, "You may walk with me, young sir, to relay your message" another pause, "What is your name?"
"Stephen, Princess"
Of all the girls tossing rocks at your window
I'll be the one waiting there even when it's cold
Hey Stephen, boy, you might have me believing
I don't always have to be alone
'Cause I can't help it if you look like an angel
Can't help it if I wanna kiss you in the rain so
Come feel this magic I've been feeling since I met you
Can't help it if there's no one else
Mmm, I can't help myself
From that day onward, Catherine appointed Stephen to join her meagre household. She could not afford to pay him, but he insisted that her friendship was enough, and Catherine found that she felt the same. She felt young and giddy, like a teenager again, and she was behaving much more like a serving girl than a widowed princess of Spain and England. And although she knew that nothing could happen between them, her heart inexplicably ached for Stephen; she adored him. Maria scolded her about her lack of decorum, but Catherine just laughed.
"This country is so dull, Maria, and I feel so alone; surely I may have Stephen as a friend?"
"He is far below you, my lady"
"He is a dear friend, and he makes me feel younger, like I felt back in Alhambra with my sisters"
"I fear that your affection for him is too deep"
Catherine shook this off and protested, but each day she would wake at first light and run to wake him, throwing pebbles at his window. They talked and romped like children sometimes, and she loved having someone to care for her and amuse her. The other servant girls glared at her behind her back, this foolish princess, and tried to catch Stephen's attention themselves, with their loosened hair and loose-laced gowns and fluttering eyelashes. But Stephen paid them no attention, content to walk around with his Spanish princess and devote his time to her for days on end, even when the dull English weather caused rain to fall upon them.
Hey Stephen, I've been holding back this feeling
So I got some things to say to you
I've seen it all, so I thought
But I never seen nobody shine the way you do
The way you walk, way you talk, way you say my name
It's beautiful, wonderful, don't you ever change
Hey Stephen, why are people always leaving?
I think you and I should stay the same
Catherine and Stephen were huddling under a slowly withering oak tree one evening as the rain tumbled down around them. It was improper for her to be alone with a man, especially at this time of day, but Catherine found that she no longer cared. Surely no-one would suspect her of any wrongdoing with a servant like Stephen, surely? Even though he was so handsome...and if word of her dalliance with him got back to court...to the ears of her father-in-law...
But nothing had happened between them and, although Catherine would have liked it to, she knew it must stay that way. She would not risk her reputation; she needed to make a good marriage here in England, to stop the expense of the voyage being a complete waste for her mother and father, although, before Stephen, she would have liked nothing better than to return to the Alhambra.
"Oh, Princess, your gown is soaked through!" Stephen cried as they huddled close beneath the thinning leaves. Catherine was, indeed, dripping wet, and shivering to boot. Stephen pulled off his shoddy cloak and draped it around her, and her fingers sought to pull it closer around her, breathing in his scent and taking in his warmth.
"Thank you, Stephen" she said quietely.
"Catalina" Stephen replied softly, smiling, and said nothing more. Catherine shuddered with delight. No-one had called her by her true name for such a long time, and to hear from Stephen's lips, the man who meant so much to her – the man who, she realised, she had fallen quite in love with.
"No-one has called me that for so long!" she exclaimed. Stephen looked startled.
"Did I do wrong by you, Princess?"
"No!" Catherine cried in protest, "No! It pleases me so to hear you call me by my real name. It makes me feel as though...as though I am back home"
"Good" said Stephen quietely, "I do want you to feel at home in my company, Catalina"
'Cause I can't help it if you look like an angel
Can't help it if I wanna kiss you in the rain so
Come feel this magic I've been feeling since I met you
Can't help it if there's no one else
Mmm, I can't help myself
They're dimming the street lights, you're perfect for me
Why aren't you here tonight?
I'm waiting alone now, so come on and come out
And pull me near and shine, shine, shine
The eve before Christmas, Catherine finally changed out of her morning clothes. Stephen had been away at court, to catch up on events and see if there were any messages for her, as was his duty, and he was due back that very day. She wore a beautiful burgundy gown bought from Spain, and a wreath of holly and ivy leaves in her flaming hair. She knew that she looked exotic and beautiful, and she was sure that Stephen would notice.
Maria tutted, but knew better than to argue with her mistress. She took relief in Catherine's good sense, knowing that the young woman would do nothing to damage her reputation.
"Catalina" Stephen bowed, his handsome beam glittering in the firelight, "You have come out of mourning, I see"
"For the festive period" Catherine explained with a smile in return, patting the seat beside her, "Come sit with me, and tell me news from court"
She ached to kiss him, now that he was so near. Oh, she so longed to kiss him.
Stephen suddenly pulled her into a bone-crushing embrace, startling and delighting her. Catherine embraced him in return, lifting her glowing, golden face up to his, eyes bright with joy.
"Oh, Stephen, I – "
He leapt away from her to the seat at opposite instead, at a more proper distant. His cheeks were pink.
"I am sorry, Madam, I forgot myself. Would you like me to leave?" a golden curl hung over one of his dark eyes. Catherine was trembling all over from the embrace, and was staring at him.
"Why, no!" she exclaimed, "No, I – please, come here and sit beside me"
Stephen looked at her in surprise, and moved back to his original seat. They smiled awkwardly at each other.
Hey Stephen, I could give you fifty reasons
Why I should be the one you choose
All those other girls, well, they're beautiful
But would they write a song for you?
"Would you like to hear a Spanish tune?" Catherine asked, "It is from my childhood. A song for Christmastide"
Stephen nodded, smiling once again, "I should be glad if you would oblige me with such a song"
Catherine smiled and opened her mouth. The song was an ancient one in celebration of the birth of Jesus, and, sung in her rich Spanish accent, it had a new level of depth and meaning to it. Stephen watched her, mesmerised, and Catherine sang every word with her eyes fixed on his angelic face.
"That was beautiful, Catalina" Stephen praised when she had finished, and hesitantly reached up to stroke his hand against her rosy cheek. Catherine drew in a sharp breath and her smile grew; he traced her lips.
The kiss came naturally, at last, and Catherine could not imagine that she had would ever be this happy again.
I can't help it if you look like an angel
Can't help it if I wanna kiss you in the rain so
Come feel this magic I've been feeling since I met you
Can't help it if there's no one else
Mmm, I can't help myself
If you look like an angel
Can't help it if I wanna kiss you in the rain so
Come feel this magic I've been feeling since I met you
Can't help it if there's no one else
Mmm, I can't help myself
Several years later, standing at the altar with a golden haired man who was not Stephen, Catherine could not help wondering what would happen to Stephen now. Her widower's household had been dissolved, aside from Maria, and she knew not where he was. All she knew was that young Henry, in his looks, at least, reminded her of Stephen, though his eyes were piercing blue rather than dark. But she missed Stephen's sincerity, so different from Henry's youthful exuberance.
She would never forget Stephen, who had drawn her out of her shell in this harsh, unfamiliar country and who had loved her as much as she did him.
Of course, no-one would ever know what had passed between she and Stephen. She had erased most of it from her own mind, thrown herself deep into religion rather than the sin of lust and adultery.
But she would not forget how he had been her angel.
Myself
Can't help myself
I can't help myself