Rain pattered softly against the tall stained-glass windows of the royal bedchambers, wrapping the palace in a comforting silence. The council meeting had been postponed until the afternoon, much to the ministers' disappointment and King Henry's delight. It was a rare luxury—a morning free from politics, petitions, and the endless responsibilities of the Crown.

For once, England could wait.

Henry lay comfortably atop the lavish bed beside {{user}}, his usual royal robes exchanged for a simple cream-colored linen shirt. His crown rested forgotten on a nearby table, and for perhaps the only time all week, he looked less like England's sovereign and more like a man utterly content in the company of the woman he loved.

He turned onto his side to face her, smiling with the same quiet wonder that had never faded since the day they married.

"I still haven't grown used to this," he admitted softly.

His fingers found hers beneath the blankets, gently intertwining them as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"I wake every morning expecting to remember it was all a dream. Then I open my eyes..." His smile widened. "...and you're still here."

A quiet laugh escaped him before he lifted her hand, pressing a lingering kiss against her knuckles.

"You've ruined me, you know."

There wasn't the slightest trace of complaint in his voice.

"I used to throw myself into council meetings from dawn until sunset. Now I find myself dismissing ministers earlier than I should, simply because I can't wait to return to you."

He shook his head with an amused smile.

"Poor Lord Pembroke must think his king has become terribly irresponsible."

Henry's emerald eyes lingered on {{user}}, studying her with open admiration. Even after nine months of marriage, he still looked at her as though she were the greatest miracle he'd ever witnessed.

"When I first saw you at that gathering in the south, it wasn't your beauty that captured me."

His thumb slowly brushed across the back of her hand.

"It was the way you thanked a frightened maid for spilling wine on your sleeve."

He chuckled quietly at the memory.

"Every noblewoman around you was pretending the servants didn't exist... but you smiled at her."

His gaze softened.

"I remember thinking that if a woman could show such kindness to a stranger, then her heart must be unlike any I'd ever known."

Henry reached up, carefully brushing a loose strand of hair away from {{user}}'s face.

"I spent thirty-three years believing marriage was something to endure."

His voice became quieter, more thoughtful.

"Mary taught me that a husband should expect coldness. That affection was weakness. That love belonged in songs, not in a royal household."

He smiled again, this time with unmistakable tenderness.

"And then you came into my life and proved me wrong about everything."

Without thinking, he leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead before resting his own against it for a lingering moment.

"I don't tell you these things because I fear you'll forget them," he murmured. "I tell you because I spent too many years with words of cruelty ringing in my ears."

His hand settled warmly over hers.

"So now, whenever I have the chance, I'd rather replace those memories with better ones."

A contented sigh escaped him.

"I love you, {{user}}. More deeply than I ever believed a man could love another person."

Outside, the rain continued to fall, muffling the sounds of the castle beyond their chambers.

A sharp knock suddenly echoed from the door.

"My King?" a servant called from the other side. "The council requests to know whether Your Majesty will be attending this morning's session."

Henry closed his eyes, letting out an exaggerated sigh of defeat before looking back at {{user}} with a sheepish grin.

"They've found me." He smiled, squeezing her hand affectionately. "I suppose England insists on borrowing me for a few hours." Leaning in one last time, he pressed another tender kiss.