Mistakes Are Made To Fix

Sorry

Mary Jane woke up in a chamber she didn't recognize, wearing clothes she didn't remember wearing. She tried to sit up, but the aching pain in her waist kept her lying down. Mary wanted to cry; and she did. She was crying to herself when Catherine came to see her. Mary wiped her tears and tried to appear brave before the queen.

"I am so sorry, Mary Jane!" Catherine hurriedly sat next to her.

"You? Oh, no your maj..."

"If only I hadn't sent you to..."

"It's only the king to blame," she didn't hold back the accusation.

Catherine held Mary's hand, humming in thought.

"Ma'am?" Mary called her.

"Hmm?" The queen woke and turned to her.

"You're thinking something."

"Oh, yes. I was thinking... now that Henry has had you. Perhaps..."

"You're asking me to sleep with your husband?"

"I can't stop him from sleeping around. So if he must, I'd rather it be someone I can trust." Catherine smiled warmly, "you've never let me down, Mary Jane."

Mary reciprocated the smile and managed to sit up a bit.

"I don't intend to."

Catherine stood and kissed the girl's head.

"That's my girl. It's getting late. You should get some rest. You have breakfast duty tomorrow."

The queen left and Mary finally thought over everything that had happened to her. Eventually it occurred to her what had happened. Tears felled her eyes. Here she was being a loyal friend, a sister, and she was being played. No one was in her corner.

The next day, King Henry was having a very busy morning. He was in meeting after meeting, having no time to even eat. He was sustained on wine. He had two lords arguing in his chamber when a guard came to announce breakfast.

"Busy," Henry shooed the guard, not interested, especially given the probability that it would be someone else.

But the guard stood erect, not meeting the king's eye as he cleared his throat.

"It's... your usual, sir."

Now the guard had Henry's undivided attention.

"Send it in," he very happily told the boy and almost leapt of his throne. "Gentlemen! If you'll allow me, I'd like to break my fast."

The door opened and his meal was brought in. The lords watched Mary Jane come in with the trolley, and had to be reminded by Henry to leave. He studied her, her eyes never lifting from the floor. His hand passed over her back as he took his seat. She didn't flinch.

"I would never have expected to see you here so soon."

"Is it not treason to starve the king?" Mary told him plainly.

"And here I thought I meant something to you," he teased her as he took his cup. His fingers brushed her hand and she pulled away.

Henry tilted his head in attempt to catch her eye.

"You fear me."

"You hurt me."

"I'm sorry."

That finally made her look up at him. With everything that had happened to her, out of everyone who had abused her, it was the King who apologized. Though, looking back at their rapid fire conversation, he was probably just stuck in the moment. But nevertheless, it was the first apology she'd gotten. Mary put down the jug on the tray and slipped motionlessly down against the footboard of Henry's bed.

The king of England got off his throne and joined the stunned girl on the floor. Mary turned to look at him.

"The queen informed you, didn't she? About the ho-"

"Probably," he said stiffly.

She returned staring at the opposite wall.

"She's been sending me to you. Filling me with words to tell you."

Henry scoffed at the same wall. "I imagined as much."

"Why me?" Mary asked his profile in a thinning voice. "What does everyone see in me, that- that they think they can use me to their will?" She let out a dry laugh. "My life was going fine enough when no one knew I existed."

"You're too special to be ignored," Henry said to himself before he turned to smile at her. "My mother said that to me once. I was the second son. Not as important as my brother, nor as useful as my sisters. Now look at me," he leaned his head back to stare at his own portrait. "I own the world."

Henry put his head on the bed, hand lazily rubbing her neck. "You can ask anything in the world from me, and you shall have it." He said softly as he sat up, as if for her ears only.

"Yesterday, you took as you wished..." even as she accused him, Mary put a gentle hand on his cheek. She could have slapped him and he would have thought it were roses.

Henry raised a brow, curious for what she'd say next.

"Next time, wait for me to give."

The king smirked, his lips turning in to her palm. So, it wasn't completely off the table.

Caught in the moment: her eyes fixated on him, her thumb on his mouth, Mary leaned in to kiss him. His lips were wet and warm; they always were. But this kiss felt different.

This kiss wasn't for Catherine.

It wasn't for her family.

This kiss wasn't even for Henry.

It was for her. It empowered her. He took from her, now she would take from him.

Mary parted her lips and kissed him again, more confidently. Henry's fingers crawled up in her hair, holding her close, but he didn't take control. Somehow he understood, that this wasn't for him. He let her lead, following her movement, letting her explore his mouth. His other hand traveled over her stomach downward, rubbing circles as if to soothe the pain he had caused. Henry felt her tears down his face, and let go of her neck to wipe his thumb across her cheek.

Without warning, he picked her up and took her to bed. Mary quickly pulled away, watching as he put her down, expecting him to join her. But instead he knelt next to her.

"Rest, Mary Jane," he whispered as he pressed his hand over the crown of her head. "You are no use to me hurt," he joked, "but I await the day when you grant me you."