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I.
When he shifts back into his human form after their first day at the palace, his natural instinct is to find her, which is a peculiar feeling.
So far in their marriage, they have simply co-existed; but after recent events, he’s found himself shifting, and not just from his human to Ethian form. This second shift, he thinks, is in his heart. He’s never been one to ponder whether love was in the cards for him, as his predicament made that nearly impossible. This was why he’d resigned himself to a life of raking and fucking about.
Now, after kissing her soft lips and holding her in his arms, he questions everything he ever thought he wanted. She still wants a divorce, that he knows, and yet, he can’t help but wonder if their recent change of circumstances will delay that.
While he wanted to go to her straight away, he first made the necessary visit to his father. Now, dawn soon approaches and he doesn’t know where she is, yet his body is pulling him to the North Tower, as if an invisible string connects him to her.
When he opens the door to the tower, he sees her form, looking rather goddess-like in the moonlight, leaning out the tower window. His heart pangs.
As he approaches Jane, he pushes down the feeling growing in his chest, one of deep devotion, care, and- he stops himself from thinking it. They will be getting divorced, as soon as they find a cure. That feeling will only complicate matters further.
He reaches out a hand to her shoulder, aware that she’s likely to be startled, and he recalls what happened last time he startled her; a fake sword fight, her body on top of his, an attack on their lives, a real sword fight, her lips attacking his, their almost consummation. A series of events he would only like to partially relive.
She turns around upon his featherlight touch.
“Guildford.”
The look in her eyes is one he recognizes, he’s seen it now a few times before. She feels the weight of the world on her shoulders.
“Are you alright?” he asks sincerely, again, finding he cares deeply about her welfare.
“ Eh, you know,” she says, looking upon the verge of tears. “You?”
Wanting her to feel solace in her exasperation, he responds, “Oh, you know.”
A beat passes. He wants to wrap her in his arms but isn’t sure if that’s what she wants.
“Sorry I was delayed, I-”
“You went to see your father.”
He’s taken aback by how she already seems to know him as well as he knows her, knowing his motivations and actions. They discuss his father and her cousin’s murder for a minute, but he still finds her the more pertinent topic of discussion and it is almost dawn.
“I wish you could stay,” she says, with perhaps the most endearing look he has ever seen set upon her face. He’s never hated his curse more.
“Vulnerability,” he says, taking a step closer to her. “From the indomitable Jane Grey?”
“Sensitivity from the unconscionable Guildford Dudley?” she retorts, and his heart aches, yet again.
He moves even closer, feeling the desperation to kiss her, and he almost does. He is just about to move his head the final little bit it needs to for their lips to meet when she pulls away, sighing.
“We can’t do this.”
And his heart shatters, but he doesn’t want her to do anything she doesn’t want to do, so he agrees with her, even if it is the last thing on earth he wants to do.
He knows it’s time to leave, for him to return to the stables, but he hates leaving her like this, alone and clearly scared. It’s then that little three word phrase bubbles up on the tip of his tongue.
I love you.
But he can’t say it, not when she doesn’t want to stay married. Not when she’s now Queen of their country. Not when he is a man that turns into a horse everyday. She deserves more than that.
So he swallows those words down as he turns around to leave, feeling as if he’s choking on them like acrid vomit.
Walking to the stables, he admits to himself, because Guildford Dudley is a straightforward man, that he is irrevocably in love with his wife, and there is nothing he can do about it.
II.
He was not known for being gentle, or rather, considerate, in bed. It was not like he abused the women he fucked, but his foremost goal was always his own pleasure.
But now, after consummating their marriage, Guildford is certain that for the rest of his life, the only way his pleasure will be derived, is from pleasing her.
Holding Jane in his arms on the makeshift hay bale bed, he already knows the previous hour is one he will re-play in his head for eternity.
“What if I didn’t want a divorce?”
When she first entered the stable, his utmost concern was her safety. He was venomous after Rupert told him what Mary did to Jane, but of course, he couldn’t just go around killing princesses, so he was forced to wait in the stables, knowing Jane would come to him sooner rather than later. He’d expected intimacy, yes, but in the form of conversation, which had quickly become something he yearned for constantly.
When she told him to shut up and kiss her after he did a quick glance over her to make sure she was unharmed, he felt like his soul was ascending to the heavens above.
Kissing her was his favorite activity. And now, she was welcoming it, when their previous kisses all ended with whispers of “we can’t do this.”
What they just did, he finds himself thinking of it as love-making and that scares him because he knows that’s what it was. It was tender, passionate, full of emotion-soaked caresses. It was unlike any sexual experience he’d had before.
Holding her in his arms feels like heaven, and the moonlight illuminates her like a star.
He realizes now he’s only ever gotten to see her in the moonlight. What he wouldn’t give to gaze upon her, in his human form, with his human eyes, in the golden sunlight.
They’re talking, her head resting on his chest, and he wonders if she can feel how fast his heart is beating.
She asks if he knew about his father asking her to name him king. When she then asks if that is why he married her, he almost says it: I love you, I married you, and now I am in love with you.
But he doesn’t, because he is still a horse half the time and how could she love a horse?
So instead, he deflects, says he wants his cure. He knows how much she relishes being valued for her brain. It’s rare in the world they live in, for a woman to be valuable beyond her looks and womb. A sad reality. He hopes she never thinks he thinks of her that way. If she only knew how he revered her, her mind, body and soul.
What he doesn’t say when he says “I just want my life to be mine again,” is that what he means by that is he wants to hold her hand while walking through a field on a warm sunny day. He wants to wake up in the morning with her in his arms, see the break of dawn casting light on her face. He wants to not have to say goodbye to her because he can’t control when his becomes a fucking horse.
She settles in closer to him, and he’s grateful that they technically can spend this night together, here in the stable, where he can hold her until he turns. But he knows she deserves better than that.
He glances down at her, the sudden realization that now it seems he is holding his entire world in his hands. He knows that feeling is love. He places a chaste kiss on her forehead, the first time he’s ever done something like that. He prays to whatever Gods are listening that he gets to do that over and over again, for a long, long time.
III.
A ball with the Kingdom’s most stuffy and pretentious nobility is the last thing on his list of “fun nights,” but he is so soddingly in love with her that it doesn’t matter.
He holds the earrings in his hands as he walks down the corridor to her dressing room, hoping she will love them, despite their simplicity. Palace staff bow their heads to him as he passes, action he is not yet used to. There is not much protocol for how a Queen’s consort is to be treated, as England has had far fewer Queens than it has Kings. For now, everyone mostly leaves him alone, which he enjoys.
His outfit is a bit ridiculous and sparkly for his liking, but he knows it was made to match whatever Jane is wearing, and he finds he rather likes the feeling of outwardly belonging to her. It’s a primal feeling, knowing the inverse too, that everyone will see their matching outfits and know she is his.
Knocking, he gently saunters into the room, and he takes in the back of her, awestruck at just how…well, queenly she looks.
“Hi,” he says softly, aware her maids are still in the room. He can hear the smile in her voice when she greets him back, and then, thank the Gods, the maids understand the unspoken cues and leave.
Walking closer to her, he breathes her in, wishing he could somehow commit her scent to memory. He’s earnest when he tells her, “You look beautiful.”
The gold of her gown, the crown on her head, even whatever that dratted collar thing is that makes access to her neck, which he very much likes to kiss, more difficult-it all makes her the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen.
He holds out his closed fists, an earring in each one, and tells her to pick one. The way they can tease one another, play their little flirtatious games, it’s something he will never grow tired of.
When Jane looks at him and points to his left hand, he smirks at her and reveals the contents. It’s incredible how the twinkle in her eyes when she sees the earring makes him feel, and her joke of not having to cut off an ear when he reveals the matching earring too.
They’re looking down at the pearls in his hands when she says, “ They’re lovely,” and he’s so grateful.
“They belonged to my mother,” and he wishes so desperately the two Janes of his life could have met.
Jane starts shaking her head softly, “Oh, Guildford. No, that-that’s too much.”
Gently, he shuts her up with a kiss, because now that they aren’t divorcing, he’s more free to do that. And because he needs her to know that it isn’t too much. Those earrings deserve to be worn by great women, women like his mother, women like her. Women he loves.
Tonight, he wants to tell her. Of course, he doesn’t know if she feels the same way- he thinks she might- but he knows he needs to tell her. There is so much that could happen with her on the throne, and he knows she has spent much of her life not being properly loved by her family. He is her family now and he wants her to know from this day on, she will always be loved. As he puts the earrings on her ear lobes, he begins to confess his devotion.
“Before I met you I was in despair. I drank, I gambled, I fought, I fucked…everything up. “
She is quiet, and he loves how good she is at listening, always attentive to those around her, everything a good queen, a good leader should be. He wants her to know how much she has changed his life, and how much he wants to be there for her, to protect her, support her, love her.
“And now for the first time in my life, I have hope,” he says. “You’ve given me hope, Jane.”
He is about to say it, tell her he is in love with her, but he can tell something is swirling in her brain. Just as she is about to tell him something, his father walks in.
Ah, parents. Knowing exactly when to ruin a moment.
Later, after their fight and his storming off, when he is sitting with a metal collar around his neck, he regrets, so deeply, that he did not say it. Now, he fears he will never get to tell her how much he loves her. That one of them will die without it being known that he is in love with her. So, when he finally breaks free of his chains and his Ethian form begins running, he knows the next time he sees her, it will be the first thing he says.
IV.
Scaling a wall to climb into a room is not surprisingly, something he’s done before. When he was younger, it was his way of sneaking in and out from under his parents' grasps. Now, he’s grateful for that experience and for his strength, and he climbs to his wife. The previous few days have been hell.
When he returned to the palace to see her being captured, his instinct was to storm in immediately. But quickly, the rational part of him took over, knowing that would only make things worse for them both. So now, after he’s formed a semblance of a plan, he’s desperate to see her.
Seeing her sleeping form, he’s relieved she looks to be unharmed. He wakes her, and he moans his gratitude when she kisses him, then chastises him for leaving her. And when she pushes him away then pulls him in again, he is determined to rectify his behavior. They hear a sound and she turns her head to assess it, and he finds comfort in the crook of her neck, a place that has come to be one where he feels safest.
“Can you forgive me?” he asks, prepared to beg her on his knees if he must. Her eyes swirl with a hundred different emotions and then they’re kissing again, and he knows that’s her answer, and that she loves him too. At that moment, he wants nothing more than to keep kissing her, but he remembers where they are and what is happening and his top priority is immediately getting her out of there. But when she refuses and throws down the cloak he handed her, he resigns to stay with her.
Dying with her, rather than living without her, is a better fate, he knows.
He thinks he will need to resort to begging after all, when she all but pushes him out the window, asking him to leave. Her devotion to others, her desire and drive to make sure no one is hurt on account of her, is one of the things he loves most about her. So when she turns her back to him, he can’t help it but let carnal instinct take over.
As he pulls her hair to the side and puts his mouth to her neck, her cheek, he knows that if one or both of them are to die soon, it will not be in vain. They will be husband and wife again in the most basic act of human nature. This time, unlike their first, she takes control and he can’t think straight with her atop him like this.
After, when she tells him she knows what happened to his mother, he is relieved. He hates how ashamed he is, and how he doesn’t deserve her mercy, but she gives it to him, nonetheless, because she is a good person, the best he will ever know. When he confesses his cowardice to her, he is overcome by what she does next.
“Look at me, look. Would a coward risk certain death to rescue me?”
Then, he needs to kiss her, because he knows that this might be the last time they ever have the chance to. And that nearly kills him.
He couldn’t save his mother, and now he might not be able to save his wife.
“I wish to hell you’d let me,” he pleads desperately.
When she talks of her trial, and the potential of her death, he is certain that if she dies there will be no reason for him to go on living either. So it is now, when they are on the very brink of death, that he knows he must tell her, because it quite literally might be the last chance he gets and he will not have her die never having heard him say what he is about to say.
“Jane, I,” he starts, wanting to properly express his feelings. In minutes, he will rue his choice to be delicate, rather than brash. He isn’t able to say it before the door to her room is being unlocked and she distracts the guard so Guildford can escape. When he is captured not long after, it takes everything in him not to scream it up towards her room, in the hopes she will hear it: “Jane, I love you!”
V.
The guards bring him, in his Ethian form, into the throne room and he sees her face turn white as she yells “no!”
When she runs to him, begging Mary to leave him alone, he desperately wishes she wasn’t such a caring, selfless person; wishes she would deny knowing he is Ethian, deny that she knowingly denied a divorce from him once she found out. Anything that will keep her alive. They can kill him for all he cares, but he needs her to stay alive.
Dusk is shifting to nightfall and he knows what’s about to happen and what it will mean for the both of them.
The crowd gasps when he shifts but he doesn’t care, his eyes are locked on Janes and he knows they are both crying instantly. Guards grab him and he falls to his knees, as does his wife and here, again, he wants to say it. He wants to tell her he loves her, but all he can manage to say as he takes her in, as beautiful as ever, is that he is sorry. For it all. That she was forced to marry him, that he is not the man she deserves, that because of him she is going to die. That he is selfish and in love with her and didn’t cut her loose when he had the chance. That she is crying and he can’t take her in his arms and comfort her. For everything.
He cannot tell her he loves her now, not when his love for her has led them to this: her head about to be on the chopping block and his body burned at the stake. In this moment, he is again reminded of his mother, and how his love for her is ultimately what killed her as well. Then, for just a second, he is thankful he is going to die, because his love will finally stop him from killing those around him.
When they yank him away from her, she sobs, and he hates himself more than he ever has.
+ I.
The guards tease him as they tie him to the pyre, but he doesn’t care. Soon, there will be nothing left worth living for and he couldn't care less about whatever quibs they have to say to him.
He wishes they would burn him now, before Jane is brought in, so neither one of them has to watch the other die, but then he sees her being escorted in, and he yells her name, knowing it will do no good. When she reaches the top of the platform, they lock eyes and his heart stops. There is not a person on this earth less deserving of the brutal death she is about to face. He knows the flames that will soon burn his body will not hurt as much as the pain he will feel when that axe swings down and ends her life.
Jane’s eyes are covered with a black cloth, and despite the horror of the situation, she is still the most beautiful woman he has ever laid his eyes on. The scene before him, were it not the worst thing he’s ever witnessed, is like a painting. He hopes that in hundreds of years, the world will know his Queen’s name, that she will not be forgotten in the history books and that people will know her story, know how good she was.
She bends down and struggles to find the block and he wants to scream.
The executioner raises his axe, and Guildford forces himself to look away. He will not let the last image of his beloved wife that he sees be her head exiting her body.
Suddenly, he hears the screech of a hawk and the screams of the executioner and then all hell breaks loose. Mary yells at guards to burn him and they do, lighting the pyre.
But then she is there, on the pyre with him, his brave, beautiful, reckless wife.
“Jane, what are you doing?”
“Shut up, I’m saving you.”
She will burn and he tells her so, even while she saws at the ropes tying him up with her hairpin, and he is so in love with her, watching her face as she tries to save him.
She can’t break the ropes and he knows Mary wants her dead and this is Jane’s chance to escape. He has failed at keeping her safe so many times, but this time, he can, so he tells her to leave him.
“Never,” she says, and he has never felt so cared for before. “I’ll never leave you.”
“I love you,” she tells him, and he knows he has been a fool, waiting this long to tell her the same, wishing he had said it the very first moment he realized it all those weeks ago. But now, he finally says it and the incandescence he feels when he does is a feeling like no other.
“I love you, too”
And then, despite the chaos going on around them and the fire surrounding them, they’re kissing, because what else can they do after confessing their love but kiss so fervently right then and there. He’s crying and he’s pretty sure she is too, and he knows he is so happy, mad, terrified, gleeful, sad all at the same time.
Then, he feels a tight pain in his chest and forces her away, feeling, for the very first time ever, in control of his shifting body.
When he shifts and she jumps on his back, riding away from the tower, he has never felt more alive.
They run for miles and miles, hours and hours, until it is safe. When he shifts back, of his own free will, they both burst into laughter and he spins her around in the air.
“Well Jane Grey, it seems there is a cure after all,” he teases, kissing her again. Dawn is breaking and he gets to look at her face in the early morning light for the first time, through his human eyes. “True love.”
She smiles up at him and he thanks the gods for her.
“I am in love with you,” he tells her. “From the minute you bested me at swordplay.”
They laugh again and discuss what comes next.
For the rest of their lives, no matter where they go, he will not let a morning pass, day go by, or nightfall arrive without telling her, over and over again, how much he loves her.