(no subject)
Second drabble, Richard/Phillip, The Lion in Winter:
The King of France. When we first met, you were but a prince, scarcely more than a child.
A boy.
That fateful day you fell from your horse, when we were hunting after dark. You were anything but a child. Beautiful boy as you were, you were a man, an honest man who told me he returned my love. If it had been a lie, do you think I would not know? I, who grew between Henry and Eleanor, doting father and mother?
You loved me then, dauphin, do not deny it. You love me still, Philip, King of France.
The King of France. When we first met, you were but a prince, scarcely more than a child.
A boy.
That fateful day you fell from your horse, when we were hunting after dark. You were anything but a child. Beautiful boy as you were, you were a man, an honest man who told me he returned my love. If it had been a lie, do you think I would not know? I, who grew between Henry and Eleanor, doting father and mother?
You loved me then, dauphin, do not deny it. You love me still, Philip, King of France.