They had been married a few weeks now and were well into their wedding tour, but it was only now that they were finally alone long enough for Henry to really look at his wife properly.

She was beautiful, that much he was certain of from the moment he'd laid eyes on her, but now that she was his he'd wanted to know more. He and Catherine hadn't had long to get to know each other before the wedding, as was normal for an arranged marriage like theirs, but still it had been long enough to know he wanted no other bride. His Italian lover was as fiery as her hair was red from their first encounter.

The Medici girl had a confidence about her that was nothing like any woman he'd seen at French Court. Not that she was particularly outspoken, the dauphine just had an air about her..an intoxicating quiet strength that he admired more than his pride and ego would allow him to say.

The French Prince had looked forward to his wedding night for weeks before the event and though, for her sake he was as gentle as possible. Wanting to make the experience at pleasurable for her as he could and take away whatever fear had her shaking like a leaf beneath him. He hadn't taken the time he should've to really see this woman that was now his wife.

His friends had been his ear before about how lucky this Italian merchants daughter was to end up engaged a Son of France, trying to convince him she was somehow beneath his affections. Yet, each time he caught a glimpse of her hazel orbs or her long copper hair, her soft pink lips..he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt, he was the lucky one.

And now, when it was just the two of them, alone together in his chambers, ordered not to be disturbed, he finally took the opportunity to get to know every inch of his wife. Lifting her nightshirt up and over her head, he left her bare to him as he trailed sweet kisses up and down the expanse of her body, every now and then coming across a faint scar not yet faded. Nothing major, just little tiny white scars scattered along her lithe body in different places. None were overly noticeable, most you wouldn't see unless you were right up close, which meant he was more than likely the only person that would ever see them for the most part and there was something about that he loved. As if it somehow made her more his and only his.

To Henry, her scars added to her allure, made him love her more than anything. Made him want to protect her. She wasn't like any other women he knew. Not like the typical pristine noble girl, unlikely to have ever broken a nail. She'd experienced things most couldn't even imagine, she'd been held captive just as he was as a child and as such, had at least half a chance of understanding him and the demons that haunted him when he slept.

To Henry, they made her more beautiful than he ever thought possible. Though Catherine had assumed he thought the exact opposite, becoming more and more self conscious with each one he found, certain that he would find her repulsive once he realised how marked she was. The dauphine had been holding her breath since her nightgown came off, hardly able to enjoy his attentions when she noticed the way his eyes were roaming her, as if trying to commit every inch of her skin to memory. Was he searching for something? Did all husbands do this? What if he figured out what her scars were from? Would he hate her? Would he have their marriage annulled?

She had grown to love him in their short time together. He was sweet when he wanted to be and though he was stubborn and pigheaded at times he was also funny and attentive. Catherine had grown fond of all these aspects of her husband and found herself almost already accustomed to them and now she couldn't help but fear she would lose it all if he figured out she was not untouched when she came to him.

Her anxiety almost taking hold of her completely when he moved to kiss a scar on her hip left by a florentine soldiers heavy armour. Meeting her eyes as he felt her pull away from him, Henry finally realised his bride's discomfort at being so exposed. Trying to quell her fears and insecurities, the dauphin rose up to his her lips soundly, not relenting until he felt her relax ever so slightly beneath him. Slowly, he pulled back to remove his own nightshirt and reveal his own scars, much larger than her own. Holding back a gasp as she caught sight of one in particular on his left side, a long jagged line that spread across half his ribcage. Hesitantly, Catherine reached out to touch it when Henry took her hand in his and placed it over the old wound, letting her know she was allowed.

Gaining confidence slowly, she stood up on her knees and let her hands travel over his chest, mapping out each and every mark before turning to find more covering his back, more than anyone would ever expect to see on a high born man, let alone a Prince. "..how?" she asked timidly after a while, the question almost catching in her throat as she pointed again to the first one she'd seen.

"You tell me yours I'll tell you mine?" Henry smiled in return, gently wrapping his arms around his petite little wife. His answer came by way of her tensing in his hold but he didn't let himself take her refusal to heart, remembering they still hadn't known each other that long yet and that there would be plenty of time to talk about such things in the future. "Maybe one day" he whispered kissing her shoulder softly, relieved when she relaxed once more he hoped eventually the day would come where he would earn her trust.