People Who Hate Happiness for Henry

[ali]

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[bunny]

62. My muse comforting yours after a nightmare.

THE SOUND OF YELLING rouses Henry from a deep sleep. He shoots up, looking around the room for the noise. Benedict and Sophie are staying at his estate for a getaway away from the city. He stumbles out of his room in a silk robe, looking around for the source of the noise. The yelling stops as he makes it to Sophie's room. He considers. No, Benedict would not make her scream like that. He knocks a few times before entering the room. Blast -- he should have a candle. He stumbles right into some furniture and curses under his breath. 

"Sophie?" He asks as he rubs his side from the corner. "Sophie, darling, are you all right?" Henry approaches the bed the best he can with the moonlight coming in from the windows. He makes it to the corner of her bed and sits on it so he does not knock into anything else. 

"You can talk to your old friend Henry." He offers with a soft smile, eyes adjusting to the darkness. "Or we can just sit here until you're feeling well. Or, we can go to the kitchens for tea. It is perhaps the only thing I can cook." Henry chuckles softly and yawns just a bit. 

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[ali]

    She hates this, more than anything else in the world, but it is not something that she found too surprising. Far more often than she dared to admit, her mind wandered back to those days when she worked for her stepmother, the horrid treatment she received when under her supposed care. Sometimes it didn’t take something setting it off for her mind to wander. She just felt guilty that it had been here, in a place that was far from her home and worse than that in a stranger's home. Sophie swallowed slightly, looking around the room as though that might calm her, knowing further that she was not back there.



    Moss green eyes were filled with tears and her breathing was labored as she sat up in bed, trying to get a grip for her surroundings and soothe herself, not wanting to wake anyone else, but thus proved to be ineffective as she heard Henry’s voice, Sophie swallowing just a little, trying to think on what to say, finding herself both thankful and not that it was Henry who had woken up and not Benedict.



    Her head looked down to the ground, trying to avoid his gaze though she was sure he couldn’t quite see her in the dark. “I am quite alright. It was simply a bad dream based on some sour memories is all. My apologies for waking you.” The fact that he was reacting so kindly despite the fact that she woke him up was bizarre to say the least, but she found herself thankful still. Taking a moment before looking where she felt the bed sink, she let the softest of smiles graced her lips, hoping that it was not clear how forced that it was. “If you wish to return to bed I will continue to be fine, though getting up, walking around, and drinking a quick cup of tea sounds lovely.”


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[bunny]

"IT IS NO TROUBLE," Henry insists, holding up a hand -- even if she won't be able to see it well in the darkness. "I know too well memories we would wish to forget." He's soft as he speaks, wanting to be gentle with her while she's in such a state. "I believe I would like some tea now that I'm up." He says, and he gets off the corner of her bed to the candle on the nightstand beside her. He opens the drawer and feels for the matches. . . before procuring one. "Aha!"

And he scrapes it across the box, igniting it, before he lights the candle. "There, to illuminate our journey." Henry turns to her and smiles in the dim light of the candle, offering his hand to her. "Shall we, Sophie? And if you'd like. . . you can share those memories, or we can leave them behind in the darkness." Perhaps he will share some of his troubles to empathize with her; he does not know if she needs that or not. Either way, he wishes to help her in any way that he can. 

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[ali]

    Even with barely making out anything in the dark, the words the lord- Henry speaks are enough to soothe her worries, if only slightly. She sniffs, wiping her tears from her eyes as she nods, another gesture that might not be seen just yet, but she can hope that she manages to look a little more composed that she feels. “...Unfortunately I find that most people do have them.” She could only hope that his own experience was nothing like hers. Part of their stories could not possibly line up, she knew that, but still, no one deserved what her stepmother had put her through and the hard life after. And she hoped that Henry was doing well, despite his ill memories.



    As the candle was lit, even if it would not provide much for the room, Sophie forced a smile on her lips, small, polite, but still there, somewhat hesitantly taking his hand and giving him a slight nod, silently asking him to lead the way. “I simply… lived a difficult life before starting to work for the Bridgerton’s.” That was a start, at least. “Life here is far more kind than the life I knew before.” Even if things were far from simple. She changed the subject, never preferring to talk about herself for too long. “What about your memories, if it is not impolite of me to ask?” She was not sure how much she would share, but after everything that he was doing for her, Sophie wanted to at least listen, maybe even help soothe them in some way.


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[bunny]

"I CAN ONLY IMAGINE," Henry says as he holds her hand, giving it an assuring squeeze. "You were thrust into a world that you only knew from a completely different perspective. . . but hopefully, it is a better one." He leads her out into the hallway, starting their journey through the manor to the kitchens. He does not expect her to ask about his nightmares. His inclinations are not a secret to her now, not after the parties. He considers what to tell her, what -- will be suitable. Henry does not want her to pity him. 

"My father was far from kind," Henry offers as he continues down the path, walking slow so that she may not lose pace with him. "He had a very particular way he wanted my siblings and me to act, and when we did not meet those expectations, he sought to punish us." Henry does not carry any physical scars of those encounters, but. . . well, he does not wish to dwell on the bad. Not when his life has been so good. "I still have nightmares of him, even though he has been dead for half a decade now." He figures that could suffice, and she does not... want the darker memories, the darker nightmares. He does not wish to frighten her. There have been a few closer calls, but he has managed on the other side of it. 

He goes to turn down another hallway only to be greeted by a wall. Henry stares at it, blinking, before he laughs. "I suppose it is harder to remember the layout at night." He turns to her with a smile before glancing down the hall. "We will manage. I hope." 

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