Title: Drenched Once More to the Skin
Fandom: Historical RPF/Highlander/Henry V (Shakespeare)
Rating: Teen
Length: 574 words
Content Notes: Choose Not to Warn
Author Notes: Haerviu is an Immortal who once lived a life as Jehan, Montjoye King of Arms in the early 15th century. In They Who Sleep In Elysium, he and Henry meet after their respective "deaths" and tend to live lifetimes together. Henry is immortal in the same fashion as Eternal Plantagenet, where he is brought back from death by the Morrigan (who is quite fond of him).

Summary: Henry comes back into Haerviu's life with an infant daughter in tow.

"I cannot take care of her alone." Henry is drenched to the skin, as he is too often when Haerviu meets him after they've been walking separate roads, and he's holding a bundle that appears to be mostly a great coat.

"Get inside before you drown." Haerviu smiles softly, ushering Henry into his small home, glad that he's living a quiet and simple life this time. No kings or princes to make demands upon his time as when he'd met a young English king in a chill northern court, and more than once since. No wife, either, though he knows Henry has married more than once in their times apart.

Henry returns his smile only after he's peeled the coat away from a tiny face, making sure the tiny child is as close as he dares bring her to the low flames on the hearth. The infant can't be even a year of age yet, and Haerviu wonders how far Henry's traveled, and kept her alive.

"Her mother died five months ago. The wet nurse vanished in the night a week ago, and left her behind." Henry doesn't look up from the infant yet, his brow furrowing as he strokes the girl's cheek with a careful fingertip. "Mary, for my mother."

Haerviu hangs the great coat next to his own on the wall, the empty peg finally of some use, before coming over to look down at Henry's daughter. "There's a woman in town whose son is a similar age. I usually hire her to take care of the laundry."

Henry chuckles, shifting so Haerviu can see little Mary better. "If she cannot or will not, I've been feeding Mary gruel. She's not terribly impressed, but she has lived on it."

Shaking his head, Haerviu reaches out to rest a hand gently on Henry's back. "Neither, as I recall, is her father, when fever makes it impossible to feed you much of anything."

Under his hand, there's the vibration of suppressed laughter, and Henry looks up at him with mirth in his gaze. "It isn't the most inspiring of meals, even when ill. I wouldn't think bread soaked in beef broth is the best for an infant, either, though, no matter how much I find it better when I have need to recover my health."

"I suspect it is not what either the physician or the midwife would suggest to feed an infant for which you cannot find wet-nurse after the mother is dead." Haerviu gently traces a fingertip over Mary's forehead, before letting out a quiet sigh. "I haven't anything in the house suitable for an infant, much less a girl, you realize."

Henry shrugs, looking at him out of the corner of his eye. "I have money enough to purchase what needs be bought, and I'm not entirely helpless with the making of necessities." There's a smile that takes any sting out of the words, and Haerviu can feel Henry leaning into him a little more. "We'll manage, as we have before."

"So long as you do not manage to attract so much attention we need flee before the wrath of the mob." Haerviu leans into Henry a little himself, selfishly glad to have Henry with him once more, even if he must share his heart with tiny Mary.

He'd never minded sharing; after all, Henry has been his since a muddy field and an unlooked-for victory for a small English army.