ROYAL BLOOD | THE WHITE PRINCESS

38

"Stop it," Henry snapped at Lizbeth coldly, the two of them knowing that Henry's weakness was when Lizbeth dared to mention Arthur.

"Careful, Henry. Many people in England only follow you out of love of me. They'll turn against if you if they think you shame me," Lizbeth warned her husband as she took a threatening step toward him, "I have been your wife for nearly ten years now. I betrayed my mother and my sister for you. I choose you over them. I am in a castle filled with people who are responsible for my family's deaths and it was all for you. I do it all for you and this is how you repay you? By shaming me to prove a point to a peasant boy you're worried is going to steal your crown?"

"A peasant boy who is backed by more than half of Europe," Henry argued with Lizbeth in a stern tone.

"Then perhaps if you weren't such a horrible fucking king, he wouldn't have that support!" She screamed at him, causing Henry's eyes to widen as he felt himself hurt.

"You don't mean that," Henry argued in a stern tone and Lizbeth smiled at him.

"Of course I do. I wouldn't say if it weren't true so don't expect me to take it back. You don't rule this kingdom. Your mother does. You allow her to play king and she is the reason this war started in the first place whether you want to believe it or not. You allowed yourself to believe she was right when she said you were destined to be king. You weren't, Henry! Four of my brothers, two of my half-brothers, and my uncle had to be killed for you to be the bloody king of England. I love you, I do, but you are not God's Anointed King. You never were. If you were God's anointed king, seven males with York blood running through their veins wouldn't have had to be brutally murdered for you to be king. Three of them no older than eleven. My brothers."

"So you believe it, then. You believe this pretender should be king over me. Your own husband," Henry growled at Lizbeth, who was quick to argue.

"I never said," She argued, causing Henry to scoff loudly.

"Do you not realize that if I weren't king anymore, it would mean that our sons would die? If I am dead and overthrown, our sons would have to die as well. There would always be men trying to put them on the throne," Henry explained to Lizbeth as he walked toward her, "Perhaps you don't care about what happens to me if we are overthrown, but I know you care about our sons."

"How dare you say I don't care about you!" Lizbeth cried out, giving Henry a look of betrayal, "I risked everything to be with you. I betrayed everyone I ever cared about for you. My own family. I loved you for years, despite all that you did to wrong my family, including killing my brother, so don't you dare say I don't care about you." Lizbeth roughly shoved Henry backwards, just before walking toward the door, "Go have fun with your new mistress. Don't bother returning to me. I don't want you. I can't even stand to look at you."

"Lizbeth—" Henry began to say, only to be cut off as the door was slammed in his face. He sighed in frustration, cursing under his breath.

____

      Lizbeth found herself standing in the room that George's son, Edmund, was being kept it. The 'child' laid in his cradle, crying as the midwife refused to pick him up while Lizbeth was in the room.

   Lizbeth didn't even seem to realize that the child was not the same one that had arrived nearly six months prior.

    Seeing that someone was walking in, Lizbeth turned her head, finding that it was Margaret walking in. "They called him Edmund. Like my murdered brother," Lizbeth informed Margaret, for once not mentioning the fact that they both knew it was Margaret who had been responsible for Edmund's death.