#boleynsrex.

It was a rare thing that anyone might have time alone - or at least its approximation - with the King of England, without the watchful eye of courtiers. It was a luxury few could afford, and Richard knew well that he must count himself as extraordinarily lucky to have it. Their shared blood was a boon in this regard, a fact which had created a closeness between them since they were just boys, sharing lessons and hobbies. Tennis was among them, a sport in which they both had much skill, shared competitive streaks brought to life.

"Well fought!" He cried with a breathless laugh as their latest game came to its end, William its victor. "Next time, I will best you. I guarantee it." Dabbing some sweat from his forehead, he took a moment to just survey the King. "You seem in a good mood," he chanced, swaggering closer to the net. "Pray tell, is it merely your great diplomatic victory that has pleased you, or have you found some personal form of joy? The former is a glad thing, to be sure, but it would be a joy to see you finding some pleasure as a brother, as well as upon your throne."

The last time Mary had seen her brother, he had been but a child, not seven years of age. They had spent time together at Hatfield, and even if Mary had been ordered there to serve, the memories were not altogether unhappy. Up until the arrival at Dover, she had struggled to imagine how he might look as a man grown; no longer the doted-over prince, but the King of England.

She was still attempting to reconcile such thoughts when they were introduced, and though they were under the watchful eye of numerous attendants, Mary allowed herself to indulge in a moment of wonder at the sight of him. "You are tall," was the first thing she said, her gaze drawn upward to meet his own. Though there was a marked difference in their features, she could hardly deny how he resembled what she remembered of their father in her mind's eye.