Fics like in good faith

“Why did you agree to this marriage, Mary?” The question is sudden, but soft. Mary can hear the hoarseness on the edges of the words; as though Henry’s body does not want him to ask it, but he asks it simply nonetheless. It is a simple question. Mary does not think she has a simple answer. Mary thinks she is running out of answers for him. “Duty,” she says, and he is still looking at her, and the burn of the sun is so bright through the window that he looks half on fire, himself. It could be an omen, or a blessing; or nothing at all, but the orange-yellow cuts his face oddly, ethereal, so he looks more marble than man, a statue of empires long dead. “Opportunity,” she admits; “If not England, I would have had to marry one of my nobles, which would surely have lead to my short death." He says nothing. He stays still, standing frozen in the sun, and Mary thinks that she may leave him there and return years later, only to find him unchanged. That is not the truth, though. He is as subject to the laws of mortality as Mary is, whatever their birthrights; he bleeds, as sure as she does. He ages. Time passes, and leaves scars in its wake. For both of them, it already has.

Fics like in good faith

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