Crowley's eyes flutter closed for a moment at that brush of lips on his cheek. How has he managed the past years without that?
Three months. They'll have to make the most of it. It's more than they've had for a while, and more than he'd hoped for a week ago. Not that he'd hoped for much, a week ago...
Right. Context, he's trying to give context. A bit of it, anyway. He sighs and keeps going. No way out but through. "So, yeah...came to Castile. Needed to get to know the royals, you know that drill. Arrange a betrothal for the little princess Isabella. She was only five or six at the time." He smiles with sudden sharp wistfulness. "Liked her. She was smart and passionate about justice, even when she was that young. And as royal betrothals went it didn't seem a bad one. The other kid was a second cousin about her age, the two kings were friends and wanting to solidify ties between their nations, joyous intentions all around, etc, etc."
He groaned slightly and rested his chin on Aziraphale's shoulder, heedless of how pointy it might be. "You know how royals are, though, always playing the politics game. Next time I checked in a few years later it'd been broken off and she'd been re-engaged to someone else. A few times over, actually, it was amazing how the suitors were lined up and then un-lined up. Would've expected influence from one of our sides but as far as I could tell I was the only one around. One of her suitors was actually en route to the wedding with three thousand men marching behind him when he suddenly took ill and died. Isabella thought God had struck him down personally in answer to her prayers."
He's skipping bits. Well, so be it, Aziraphale is used to how his brain hops around sometimes. "By that time she was eighteen and every bit as determined as she'd been at six. Lucky for me, we had the same goal. Heaven still wanted her to marry Ferdinand of Aragon, the boy she'd been engaged to at the first, and she was going to have him or no one. God only knows what I'd done if she'd had someone else in mind, I think she would have stood up to Gabriel himself if she thought it was right and necessary..."
Crowley sighed. "Anyway. That part was fun, actually. Theatrical, even. Secret meetings and letters to the Pope, eloping from her half-brother's castle, Ferdinand disguising himself as a servant to come meet her..." He chuckled. "You'd have loved it. I was running my feet off between Castile and Aragon, but it was worth it. They loved each other, you know? It wasn't just political for them, they loved each other. Five years later that half-brother kicked the bucket, Isabella was crowned Queen, and they formalized an agreement to rule their countries jointly and had all sorts of reforms planned. Seemed like they'd be a formidable pair. I gave them my blessing--just my personal goodwill, not an official one--and went on to the next. Didn't come back for a few decades."
He goes silent for a moment, listening to the sound of Aziraphale's breath near his ear, the breeze around them. One leg drapes itself over one of Aziraphale's. He has new clothes, bought somewhere by Aziraphale, black and white and dark grey shades, with a scarlet belt. He likes the belt. He doesn't wear colors often, but it's a shade Aziraphale usually has on his person somewhere, and it's nice to be carrying a bit of Aziraphale with him. Even though the real thing is so wonderfully near to hand.
On impulse he turns his head and kisses Aziraphale's cheek. "You're being really patient with this. With me. Thank you."
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timeasmymeasure
Ehhhh /handwave
Date: 2020-05-31 11:15 pm (UTC)Three months. They'll have to make the most of it. It's more than they've had for a while, and more than he'd hoped for a week ago. Not that he'd hoped for much, a week ago...
Right. Context, he's trying to give context. A bit of it, anyway. He sighs and keeps going. No way out but through. "So, yeah...came to Castile. Needed to get to know the royals, you know that drill. Arrange a betrothal for the little princess Isabella. She was only five or six at the time." He smiles with sudden sharp wistfulness. "Liked her. She was smart and passionate about justice, even when she was that young. And as royal betrothals went it didn't seem a bad one. The other kid was a second cousin about her age, the two kings were friends and wanting to solidify ties between their nations, joyous intentions all around, etc, etc."
He groaned slightly and rested his chin on Aziraphale's shoulder, heedless of how pointy it might be. "You know how royals are, though, always playing the politics game. Next time I checked in a few years later it'd been broken off and she'd been re-engaged to someone else. A few times over, actually, it was amazing how the suitors were lined up and then un-lined up. Would've expected influence from one of our sides but as far as I could tell I was the only one around. One of her suitors was actually en route to the wedding with three thousand men marching behind him when he suddenly took ill and died. Isabella thought God had struck him down personally in answer to her prayers."
He's skipping bits. Well, so be it, Aziraphale is used to how his brain hops around sometimes. "By that time she was eighteen and every bit as determined as she'd been at six. Lucky for me, we had the same goal. Heaven still wanted her to marry Ferdinand of Aragon, the boy she'd been engaged to at the first, and she was going to have him or no one. God only knows what I'd done if she'd had someone else in mind, I think she would have stood up to Gabriel himself if she thought it was right and necessary..."
Crowley sighed. "Anyway. That part was fun, actually. Theatrical, even. Secret meetings and letters to the Pope, eloping from her half-brother's castle, Ferdinand disguising himself as a servant to come meet her..." He chuckled. "You'd have loved it. I was running my feet off between Castile and Aragon, but it was worth it. They loved each other, you know? It wasn't just political for them, they loved each other. Five years later that half-brother kicked the bucket, Isabella was crowned Queen, and they formalized an agreement to rule their countries jointly and had all sorts of reforms planned. Seemed like they'd be a formidable pair. I gave them my blessing--just my personal goodwill, not an official one--and went on to the next. Didn't come back for a few decades."
He goes silent for a moment, listening to the sound of Aziraphale's breath near his ear, the breeze around them. One leg drapes itself over one of Aziraphale's. He has new clothes, bought somewhere by Aziraphale, black and white and dark grey shades, with a scarlet belt. He likes the belt. He doesn't wear colors often, but it's a shade Aziraphale usually has on his person somewhere, and it's nice to be carrying a bit of Aziraphale with him. Even though the real thing is so wonderfully near to hand.
On impulse he turns his head and kisses Aziraphale's cheek. "You're being really patient with this. With me. Thank you."