The Traitor's Daughter

Epilogue

**A/N: I haven't edited this whatsoever - mostly because I'm denying that this story has come to an end, but that's beside the point - so please be prepared for mistakes. Thank you for following me on Elizabeth's journey. I'm so happy that many of you love her as much as I do. :') xx

Epilogue

Two Years Later

Elizabeth was running through a maze of rooms, frequently glancing over her shoulder to ensure that her captor was still far away from her. She couldn't see him, but she could sense him, and knew that if she wasn't careful, he'd be right around the corner, ready to grab her. She threw open a door and ran into the room, looking over her shoulder as she did so, although she should have been paying more attention to what was in front of her. She collided with something, or rather, someone, a sharp pain in her abdomen causing her to cry out in pain. She looked up to see the king smiling down at her, an evil glint in his eyes, the grin on his face chilling.

"I've got you," he whispered.

"You're not real," Elizabeth demanded. She pressed her hands to her aching abdomen, and found that her dress was wet. She looked down at her hands to find that they were soaked with the blood that gushed out of the wound in her stomach.

"Oh, I'm real all right. As real as it'll get." The king lunged forward and wrapped his hands around Elizabeth's neck and immediately began to squeeze, the action cutting off her airflow.

"You aren't real," she choked out, immediately regretting the words that used up her precious air supply. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to focus on the fact that she was dreaming, while the king began to laugh manically, the sound echoing throughout the room, the only thing Elizabeth could hear.

This is a dream. This is a dream. This is a dream.

She squeezed her eyes shut tighter and tighter, until the laughing ceased and she was suddenly transported into reality, where she woke up with a gasp.

Elizabeth was sitting up in bed, a hand over her heart, her breathing labored. She glanced around the room and noted her familiar surroundings, which caused her to immediately feel more at ease.

"The nightmare again?" Henry asked from beside her. He sat up in bed, his curls a tangled mess around his face, his dark eyes filled with concern for the woman he loved.

Elizabeth nodded, then reached over and poured herself a chalice of wine that sat next to the bed and took a long drink from it. Henry was patient by her side, then held out his arms once she had finished drinking.

"Come here, love."

Elizabeth nestled herself into his embrace, her head on his warm, bare chest.

"The good news is that the dreams are less frequent," Henry pointed out.

Elizabeth nodded. It had been two years since she had killed the king, and at first, when she and Henry had arrived in France, the nightmares had occurred every night, and they had been much worse and extremely difficult to wake herself out of. But, as the days went by and she realized that the king would never be coming after her again, the nightmares began to disappear, and she dreamed normally again, as she had done when she was a young girl, before her father had been taken from her.

"It was the first one I've had in months. It's promising," she mumbled into his chest.

"Very," Henry agreed. He stretched the best he could with Elizabeth laying against him, then nodded towards the curtained window, where a sliver of light shone through. "I know we could sleep the day away, but we'd best get up, don't you think?"