THIS CHAPTER IS ONLY HALF-EDITED. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.
Chapter Nineteen
After Elizabeth finished polishing the silver, the queen had her match all of her stockings, which she had conveniently mismatched minutes before. Elizabeth was forced to listen to the queen and Cecily, the favorite of the group, talk about baby names and whether or not the queen thought it was a boy or a girl. The queen of course, was certain that she would have a boy.
Elizabeth matched pair after pair of stockings, making sure that she didn't snag any of the delicate material. She was certain that if she did, the queen would likely ask her to make another pair for her, since the woman was being unreasonable enough already. She was halfway through the pile of stockings, when the king's page came into the room.
The young boy bowed to the queen, then looked around the room. Once he spotted Elizabeth, he grinned, then approached her quickly. He held out a piece of parchment that had the king's seal on it. She looked up at the freckled face boy for an explanation, but he only smiled and shrugged.
"I don't read the messages, my lady," He said simply.
"Of course," She replied.
Elizabeth set aside the stockings in her hand, then took the parcel from the page's hand. She broke the seal, then scanned the contents, which informed her that the king wanted her to meet him in his apartments for supper. She looked up from the letter and met the queen's gaze, who was staring at her intently, wishing to know what information the letter contained.
"His Majesty requests my presence," Elizabeth said quickly. She watched the queen carefully for any sign of anger, but instead, the queen smiled.
"Of course," She said cheerfully. "We wouldn't want to keep my husband waiting." She held Elizabeth's gaze for a few moments longer, then nodded and motioned for the girl to leave.
Elizabeth curtsied, then left the room with the king's page and headed towards Owen's apartments, which were down the hall from the queen's. She clasped her hands in front of her stomach, her nails digging into the rough flesh on her palm. After polishing for an afternoon, her hands were no longer soft, but rough, which only helped to make her angrier. She continued to stay composed on the outside, but inside, she was still fuming and thirsting for blood.
The page led her into the king's presence chamber, where many of the monarch's privy council were gathered. They all watched her as she walked in, but she kept her eyes down, pretending to be modest and shy. The pair entered through another door, which led to the waiting chamber, where a handful of courtiers were sitting and chatting, all of them waiting to speak with the king. They looked up at Elizabeth, just as the others had, and a few even called out greetings to her.
Finally, the pair chose from two different doors that each led to a different room. The page went first and announced Elizabeth's presence, then she entered into the king's bedchamber, where a table and two chairs had been set up and piled with food. Just as Elizabeth's mouth began to water, she immediately curtsied for what felt like the millionth time that day, then waited for the king to acknowledge her. The page left the room and closed the door behind him, which gave the two the privacy that the king desperately wanted.
"Sweetheart," He greeted cheerily. He approached the woman knelt on the ground before him, then helped bring her to her feet. He bent his head and kissed her lips lightly, then leaned back and examined her appearance. "I was wary of the queen's choice for her new ladies' uniforms, but seeing it on you has given me a change of mind. You look absolutely ravishing."
Elizabeth said nothing, knowing that eventually, her silence would notify the king that something was amiss.
He brushed his hand against her collarbone and the necklace that rested on it, then grinned.
"I see that you like my gift. I saw it and immediately thought of you."
She looked up at the king, her eyes narrowed. Yet, he still didn't notice that anything seemed to be wrong.
"Would you like to sit? I'm sure that all of the work that the queen has had you doing all day has made you quite hungry."
He pulled one of the intricately carved chairs away from the table, then motioned to it, indicating that Elizabeth needed to sit. Instead, she stayed planted in place, a deeper frown housed on her face.
The king frowned as well, then took a step towards Elizabeth.
"You're not hungry for food. Are you interested in a different activity perhaps?" He smiled at her cheekily, then hooked an arm around her waist and pulled her closer.
She brought her hands up to try and push him away, but because of his tight grasp, the king thought that she was resting her hands on his chest. He knelt his head down to kiss her again, but she turned her head at the last second, causing him to kiss her cheeks.
"Elizabeth?"
She shoved the king away from her and took a step away from him.
"Don't touch me," She spat. "I don't want your filthy hands anywhere near me."
The look of confusion on the king's face caused him to look like an overgrown child, and Elizabeth knew that if it was another situation, she likely would have laughed at him.
"Pardon me," The king asked stupidly. He folded his arms across his chest and frowned at the angry woman in front of him, wondering what he did wrong this time. He could never please Elizabeth, and he was beginning to grow tired of it.
"I heard some news today. I'd be surprised if you wouldn't have a masque and feast to celebrate it."
The king examined Elizabeth for a few seconds, then realization dawned on his face. He rubbed his face and sighed.
"Oh," He began. "The queen."
"What else would it be? Have you done something else that will anger me?" She demanded. She clenched her fists at her side and hid them in the folds of her skirt so the king wouldn't see them.
"You would be wise to watch your tone when you speak with me. I am your king, and I was not put on this earth to please you. On the contrary, you were put on this earth to please me. I don't think it would be wrong of me to say that you have never done anything to please me."
Elizabeth ignored the comment and took a step towards the king, a finger pointed towards him.
"How am I supposed to trust you and give myself to you when you still lay with the queen and countless other women? How many others have you impregnated?"
The king growled in frustration, then took closed the distance between him and Elizabeth. He acted as if he was going to hit her, then thought better of it and pointed a finger in her face instead.
"Once again, I will remind you to mind your tone, my lady. I've given you jewelry, I've given you a new home, I've given you new furniture and multiple other things. I've given you gifts that are far nicer than anything I would ever dare to give to any of my mistresses, and you've given me nothing in return for it but trouble. You are nothing but an ungrateful little tease."
Elizabeth pushed the king's hand out of her face, then reached up and removed the necklace that he had given her hours before. She carelessly tossed it to the ground, then glared up at him.
"You can have your necklace back, along with everything else that you've given me," She shouted. "I refuse to be bought by a man who claims to be God's gift to women." She gave him the worst look she could muster, then turned her back to him and began to storm towards the door. But before she reached it, the king suddenly grabbed her and spun her around so she was facing him once more.
"You insolent bitch," He spat. He wrapped his hands around her neck and allowed them to rest there for a few moments.
A sick smile appeared on his face as he pictured himself squeezing Elizabeth's neck as hard as he could. He imagined the life leaving her eyes and suddenly felt a rush of desire and power. The king swiftly clamped his hands tighter around Elizabeth's neck, the motion blocking her airflow. She desperately clawed at the king's hands in an attempt to be able to breathe once more. She looked at the king with wide eyes and pleaded with him wordlessly, all while she made pathetic choking sounds and struggled for breath.
The king looked down at Elizabeth, his expression eerily similar to the one that Sir Richard had given her ten years ago, right before he would torture her. Aside from the anger he felt towards the woman, he felt a sense of calm as he watched her struggle. He knew that she'd run out of breath soon, and would likely faint. He didn't plan to kill her, but rather scare her. He was the one who held the power, and she needed to always remember that.
Black spots began to appear in Elizabeth's vision, and she began to get lightheaded. Her survival instincts kicked in, and she suddenly closed her eyes and pretended to lose consciousness. Just as she had expected, the king released her neck and allowed her body to fall to the floor in a heap. She immediately gasped for air, her lungs burning as the oxygen filled them. She opened her eyes, her eyesight clear once again. Her breathing was raspy and frantic, and she felt like she would never catch her breath again. Her throat burned, as did her chest, and she was certain that if she stayed in the room with the king any longer, that he would kill her.
She pushed herself up so that she was knelt down on her hands and knees, and she still continued to try and catch her breath. She was aware of the king watching her while she wheezed and tried to gain control over her body once more, but he said nothing. Elizabeth reached up and grabbed the edge of the dining table, then pulled herself up so that she was standing upright. She locked eyes with the king and stared at him, waiting for him to say something.
Instead of saying anything, he pushed her into the edge of the table, her tailbone hitting the hard wood in an angle that caused her to cry out in pain. She tried to push past him, but the king held her in place against the table by pushing his body weight against hers. With one hand, he reached down and bunched up Elizabeth's skirts until they were up around her hips. She continued to struggle against him while he fumbled with his breeches, which only caused him to hold on tighter to her with his other hand.
"Your Majesty, please," Elizabeth pleaded, while her eyes began to well up with tears.
He paid her no mind as he turned his attention back to the skirt that was in his way. He bunched the fabric up in his hand and roughly moved it out of the way, the sound of fabric tearing filling the air.
"Owen, not this way," She cried out. He met her gaze at the sound of his name and froze, taken aback for a moment. "Please," She whispered.
The king's eyes filled with anger, and his expression hardened, which told Elizabeth that her cause was lost. She squeezed her eyes shut and attempted to go to another place in her mind, when a knock at the door interrupted what the king was about to do. He let out a frustrated growl and was about to tell the person to go away, but the door suddenly opened, and Sir Richard walked in. He took one look at what was occurring, then froze, his eyes wide.
"You cad! Imbecile! You idiotic bastard!" The king spewed out a string of insults towards Sir Richard, who still stayed in place with a shocked look on his face. The king pulled away from Elizabeth and tucked himself back into his breeches, while Elizabeth slid off of the table and onto the floor, where she knelt in a crumpled mess.
She let out an involuntary sob, then immediately covered her mouth, knowing that the king would punish her for it later.
"Your Majesty, I..." Sir Richard trailed off, unsure of what to say.
The king ran a hand through his golden hair, then began pacing around the room, mumbling to himself as he did so. Elizabeth stayed on the ground and buried her face in her hands in a poor attempt to conceal the fact that she was crying. With each sob, her throat burned worse than it had before, and the only thought that filled her mind was how much she wished to be dead.
"For fuck's sake! Get out of here already," The king roared.
Sir Richard jumped at the sudden change of volume in the king's voice, then turned around towards the door.
"And take the girl with you," The king shouted after Sir Richard.
Richard turned in the doorway and looked at Elizabeth, who still hadn't moved. She didn't dare look up either. Richard bowed, then approached the girl sobbing on the floor.
"Come along now," He mumbled impatiently. He was busy looking at the king, who was staring at the two angrily. The last thing Sir Richard wanted was for the king to turn on him next.
Elizabeth refused to move, which forced Sir Richard to forcefully lift her to her feet. She kept her face tilted towards the ground and refused to look at the king. She didn't want to see the look of anger on his face, nor did she want to anger him once again. She didn't know what would set him off, and knew that she needed to be extra cautious.
She had entered his apartments, ready to expose him to her fury, but instead, she faced his at full force. It was safe to say that she wasn't expecting it, nor was she as prepared as she thought that she'd be when it came to facing the king's wrath. She still had a lot of learning to do, which bothered her. She had spent nearly a decade in Mary's care and learning everything there was to know about her enemies. And yet, she was still failing miserably and had narrowly avoided a catastrophe. She didn't know what needed to be done, but something needed to change, and she needed to be more prepared, or she would have much more severe consequences.
Sir Richard led her over to the door that led out to the king's waiting chamber. He opened the door and Elizabeth looked up, hopeful that nobody was there to see her in her poor state. She linked eyes with a servant who had been sweeping the floors outside of the bedchamber. His eyes widened once he realized who he was looking at, then he quickly went back to sweeping as if he had never seen anything.
"Not that way, you fool. Do you wish for the whole court to see her?" The king demanded. He stepped forward and slammed the door shut, nearly closing Elizabeth's skirt in it.
Sir Richard bowed his head in apology, then led Elizabeth to the back of the king's bedchamber, where a large tapestry hung next to the bed. Fearing that Sir Richard would lead her to the bed to allow the king to do as he pleased with her, Elizabeth fought against the older man, who looked at her as if she were mad.
"Come, girl," He spat. "What in God's name are you doing?"
The king began pacing again, while continuously running his hands through his hair. The man was lost in his thoughts and completely oblivious to the other two people in the room.
Sir Richard pulled the tapestry aside, which revealed a door carved into the wood paneling. He pulled out a handle, opened the door, then pushed Elizabeth into the dark. He followed her into the cold, dark tunnel, then clamped his hand around her forearm. He led her through the dark, muttering to her every couple of seconds about how she needed to pick up the pace. She stumbled along blindly, and tried her best to ignore the thoughts going through her mind. She didn't know what was lurking in the shadows, and she certainly didn't know where Sir Richard was leading her.
The situation forced her to remember her days in Sir Richard's home, and the constant unwelcome surprises that he gave her. She imagined that he was leading her to a hidden room, where he'd lock her up until she went mad. She shivered in the cold and continued to follow Sir Richard, until he stopped outside of another door, which had light coming from underneath it. She immediately smelled lavender, which indicated to her that she was outside her room.
Morton opened up the door just a crack, which allowed enough light into the room so that he could see her terrified face. The expression on her face reminded him of something, or rather, someone, although he couldn't quite place it. He glared at her, then placed his hands on her shoulders and squeezed, which caused her to flinch.
"You won't tell anyone of what happened today. Am I understood?"
Elizabeth looked anywhere but at the silver-haired man in front of her, which caused him to give her a rough shake. She met his icy eyes and glared at him.
"Understood," She murmured.
Sir Richard smiled at her.
"Excellent," He said kindly. "Even if you were to get any ideas in that pretty little head of yours-" He reached up and tapped the side of Elizabeth's head with a long finger. "It's certain that nobody will believe you. It'd also be wise of you to cover those marks on your neck as well."
Elizabeth instinctively placed a hand up to her throat, but, of course, couldn't feel anything.
Sir Richard smiled at her once more, then nodded towards the door.
"Good day, my lady," He said cheerily. With a hard shove, Elizabeth was out of the secret passageway, and had entered her room, and stood directly next to the fireplace.
She closed the door behind her, then stood still, her body shaking. She didn't know if it was from the cold, or if it was from the previous events. She turned and looked at the door that she had entered her room from, but could hardly see the outline of it. One had to look extremely close to find the secret door. Had she not just entered through the door, she would have never known that it was there.
She let out another sob, then rested her forehead against the cool wall and closed her eyes. She didn't want to look in a mirror to see what she looked like, since she knew it'd only make her feel worse. Elizabeth crossed her arms tightly around her torso, the action comforting to her.
Suddenly, a hand gripped her shoulder, causing her to cry out in surprise. Her eyes opened, and she pulled away as quickly as she could. She swung her arms around wildly as she tried to attack whoever was in the room with her. She was certain it was the king, back to finish what he had started. She repeatedly screamed at the person to leave her alone, and her hand struck what she assumed was their chest.
"Elizabeth," The person called out over her screams. They managed to grab both of her fists and held them in their hands, which rendered her arms useless. "It's me; it's Henry. You're safe," He insisted. "You're safe. I won't hurt you."
She focused her eyes on the man in front of her, and suddenly, she was a mess of emotions once more. She allowed her body to go limp, and she sank into Henry's arms. She rested her face against his velvet doublet and cried into it, confident that she'd feel guilty for ruining the expensive material later.
He placed a hand on her back and gently rubbed circles into it, while he rested his other hand on the back of her head and held her in place while she cried. He wasn't sure what he needed to do to help her, but he decided to let her cry, then he'd get more information from her. He stayed quiet while she cried, knowing that anything he said to her would be of no use. What could he say to her? He certainly couldn't tell her that everything would be all right, considering the king was relentless. She was in a court filled with evil people who intended to do her harm if she made one wrong move. It was clear to him that only moments before, she had learned that lesson the hard way.
Minutes passed until Elizabeth had calmed down enough to pull out of Henry's embrace. She looked down at the floor, too embarrassed to look at him. He gently led her over to a chair in front of the fireplace, then poured her a mug of ale that had been warming over the fire. He went to the door and made sure that it was locked, then went over the bed and grabbed one of the fur blankets. He wrapped it around her shoulders and made sure that she was completely covered, then sat down across from her and waited for her to speak.
She finished two mugs of ale before she spoke to him.
"Why are you here?" She asked him without looking up from her mug.
"One of my spies saw you and Sir Richard in the king's apartments and notified me."
The boy sweeping the floors, she realized.
She nodded, then looked up at him.
"Thank you," She said quietly.
He smiled at her, his eyes full of concern for her. She immediately looked back down at her mug, knowing that she would cry once more if she kept looking at him.
"Would you like to tell me what happened," He asked gently.
Elizabeth stared down at the amber-colored liquid in her mug, unsure of where to start. Well, she knew where to start, but didn't know what to say. How could she explain everything that happened? After all, everything was her fault. She teased and dragged the king along until he had had too much, and she had to pay for the consequences.
It could have gone far worse. Next time, avoid playing with fire.
"You don't have to speak about it," Henry said quickly. He didn't want to force her to say anything before she way ready. He had a general idea about what happened, but didn't know the details. Those details would only be available when Elizabeth offered them to him.
A knock at the door interrupted the conversation, and Elizabeth jumped and looked at the door in terror. It was either going to be the king, or his guards, ready to take her away.
"It's okay," Henry soothed. "It's Mary. I told her about what happened."
He went and opened the door and let the older woman into the room. She immediately rushed towards Elizabeth with tears in her eyes.
"Oh, my dear," She cried out. She knelt down in front of Elizabeth and placed a hand on the girl's knee, hesitant to touch her too much. She looked at her friend's red and swollen face, then down at her neck, where bruises were forming from where the king had squeezed her neck.
"I'm okay," Elizabeth insisted, although it didn't sound convincing.
Mary simply shook her head. The woman that she considered a daughter was clearly far from okay, and there wasn't much that she could do about it. She certainly couldn't kill the man who had harmed her daughter. Instead, she had to keep a smile on her face and pretend to adore the king. After all, he was innocent. The king always was.
Mary also couldn't help but feel guilty. Had she not informed the woman about her father's wrongful death, Elizabeth would have never set out on a journey of revenge. The situation with the king could have been avoidable. The woman had seen far too much in her short lifetime, and Mary couldn't help but feel as though she were at fault for some of it.
"He didn't..." Elizabeth trailed off and shook her head. "He didn't rape me." She looked up and met Mary's gaze, then met Henry's who was looking at the bruises on her neck, his expression showing his anger. "Sir Richard barged into the room and interrupted the king by accident. Had he been a second later..." She trailed off once more and blinked back the tears that had begun to pool in her eyes.
"I'm going to kill him," Henry murmured. He clenched his fists at his sides and clenched his jaw.
Elizabeth looked up at him in alarm.
"No," She cried out. "Everything must remain the same. You will carry on as his friend, and I will carry on as...well...I will carry on as his mistress, I suppose," She spoke with a grimace.
Mary reached up and gently touched Elizabeth's cheek.
"You don't have to continue with this, Elizabeth. You can give up now, and we can leave and travel far away from here. You could live a happy life."
"We wouldn't blame you if you gave up everything now. In fact, if I were in your position-" Henry began.
"We've come too far to give up now," Elizabeth cut in. "If anything, the king deserves what's coming to him, especially after what happened today. I won't be giving up now."
Mary and Henry exchanged looks, and Elizabeth knew that they disapproved.
"I don't expect the two of you to understand. And I understand if you'd both want to quit now as well. In fact, I wouldn't be angry if you did quit. I'll be continuing with the plan, and you may feel free to do as you wish."
Again, the two exchanged looks.
"We won't be giving up," Henry said firmly.
Mary nodded. "We're a team. And I promise you, that we will do everything in our power to ensure that the king in punished for what he did to you."
Elizabeth smiled at the two, then took a drink out of her mug of ale. She set the mug aside once it was empty, then looked down at her hands and wrung them together.
"Seeing as two support me, I must ask for a large favor. You likely won't agree with me, but it needs to be done."
"Anything," Mary said confidently.
Elizabeth smiled down at her, then took a deep breath.
"I need your support for what I am about to do."
Henry frowned at her, unsure of where she was going.
"Before anything else gets out of hand, I've decided that tonight will be the night that I finally lay with the king. Henry, I'll need your help in convincing the king to come into my room tonight."
Henry glared at her and folded his arms across his chest. The muscles in his jaw noticeably tightened, and Mary stood from the ground and also glared at Elizabeth.
"You must think me mad," Henry spat. "After what he did to you..."
"I agree with Henry, Elizabeth. This plan is foolish. Anything could go wrong."
She bit down on her bottom lip, then met both of their gazes.
"You'll have to trust me. I know what I'm doing."
Henry knew that she most certainly didn't know what she was getting herself into, but there was no use in arguing with Elizabeth. He would make sure to be close by, as well as a handful of his spies, so that if anything went wrong, somebody could rescue her. He didn't care if his cover was blown and if the king figured out who he was. Elizabeth's safety was his number one concern.
"Fine," Henry replied reluctantly. "But if anything goes amiss-"
"I know," Elizabeth interrupted. "And I appreciate all of your help." She smiled at her friend, then looked at Mary, who was still looking at her with disapproval. "Mary, please-"
"You are old enough to make your own decisions. Although I don't agree with them, I'll allow you to choose your own path."
She smiled at Mary.
"Thank you."
Mary nodded once, then looked away before her eyes gave away her emotions.
"I'll speak to Jane about mending the tear in your gown. She's an excellent seamstress. It will appear as though there was never a tear," Mary spoke into the fireplace. Her back was turned away from Elizabeth, and the younger woman knew that her friend was upset with her, but she would eventually come to and realize that Elizabeth was making the right choice.
Elizabeth picked up the torn piece of silk on her skirt and frowned. The king had certainly done a nice job of tearing it.
"I'll leave you to rest now, my dear," Mary said. She turned towards Elizabeth, then leaned down and kissed the girl on the top of her head. "I'll send Jane in here to get you changed and bring you supper."
She walked to the door, unlocked it, then turned back around and looked at the strong young woman across the room.
"I'm glad that you're okay, Liz."
"Me too," Elizabeth replied truthfully.
"Liz of Arc," Henry piped up with a grin that didn't quite reach his eyes.
"Liz of Arc," Mary repeated. She smiled, then opened the door and left, leaving Henry and Elizabeth alone.
"I, uh..." Henry trailed off and looked down at his boots. "I don't know what I would do if I lost you," Henry said softly. He raked a hand through his curls, then looked up and smiled sheepishly at Elizabeth. "I know that many people say that when they nearly lose someone they care about and it may sound repetitive, but I mean it."
"You haven't quite gotten rid of me yet, Henry," Elizabeth said with a smile.
"I hope I never have to," He said seriously. He held her gaze for a few moments, then cleared his throat and looked away. "I'll leave you to get some rest now. I'll speak with the king."
He went to the door, then, as always, turned back around and faced her, his expression full of uncertainty.
"You're sure that this is what you want?" He questioned.
She immediately nodded.
Of course, it wasn't what she wanted, but she would never admit it. It absolutely had to be done.
"Very well," Henry said blankly. He bowed slightly, smiled at her, then left the room.
She was certain that she was making a mistake in giving herself to the king, but knew that it would always seem like a mistake to her. If she wanted to avoid getting hurt again, she needed to do what the king wanted. It was for the greater good of her mission. Her emotions and feelings on the issue at hand didn't matter in the long run. As long as she got her revenge, everything would be worth it.
~*~*~*~*~
That night, after Elizabeth had been in bed for a few hours, she waited for the king. She stared at the secret entrance into her room, searching for any sign that indicated that the king was there. She was tired, but couldn't sleep, knowing that if she woke up and found the king standing above her, she would panic and ruin the whole plan. She needed to see him coming in order for everything to go smoothly.
She had begun to give up all hope and was beginning to doze off, when the door opened, and the king stepped out of the black hole in the wall with a candle in his hand to light his way. He looked towards the bed and saw Elizabeth staring at him, which caused him to smile softly at her.
"Sweetheart," He greeted. "You needn't have stayed awake for me. I would have woke you."
She sat up in bed, then scooted over to the other side of the bed so that the king could easily climb into the bed next to her. She forced a smile on her face as she looked at him, and pretended that her heart wasn't beating fast. Her palms were sweaty and her mouth was dry, but she couldn't turn back. It was far too late for that.
"I wanted to be awake to greet you. I also wanted to apologize for my behavior from this afternoon." She looked down at her hands and pretended to be ashamed for her actions.
The king closed the door behind him, then approached the bed. He set the candle down on the desk by the window, then stepped up to the bed. He removed his robe, then hung it on one of the bedposts. He climbed into bed next to her, a slight frown on his face.
"Let's not talk about this afternoon. What matters is that we're here together now, and that you have finally come to your senses. That is reason to be merry."
She said nothing and continued to look down at her hands. The king reached over and cupped his hand under her chin, then lifted her face to look at him. He immediately leaned in for a kiss, which, instead of starting out soft, was immediately hungry and feverish. Elizabeth squeezed her eyes shut as she had done earlier that day and tried to put herself elsewhere as the king's hands roamed her body. He laid on top of her and placed wet kisses on her lips, then her neck, where his hands had been earlier that day.
Elizabeth's mind was screaming for her to run, but she pushed the thoughts away and laid still while the king did what he pleased. She shuddered and gasped when his hand brushed her neck, and she was certain that he was going to try and choke her again, but the hand traveled down and landed on her waist. Her heart felt like it would burst from her chest and tears were welling in her eyes once more, but she did her duty and stayed quiet while the king did what he loved most.
He hiked up her nightgown skirt, which caused flashbacks from the afternoon to come to her, and cause her to cry out in fear. The king mistook it for a cry of desire and chuckled, believing that his wet kisses and rough, wandering hands were honestly making Elizabeth feel desire towards him. She felt nothing at all towards the king except for disgust and fear, but he was too oblivious to notice.
Everything was over faster than she had expected, and the king rolled off of her and brought her closer to his side. He placed a wet kiss on her neck, then hugged her.
"That wasn't so hard now, was it sweetheart?"
She said nothing.
"Just think; maybe one day, we'll have little ones of our own," He said happily. He yawned in her ear, and she grimaced and stared at the bed curtains in front of her.
The last thing she wanted was a handful of bastards that she would be responsible for for the rest of her life. The king would likely claim little to no responsibility for them, and she'd be forced to care for and love them, even though she would look at them and see the king's likeness in them.
She closed her eyes and tried to slow down the thoughts in her head, while the king began to snore in her ear. She tried to maneuver her way out of his arms, but every time she moved, his grasp would tighten, and she became more uncomfortable than she had been moments before.
The hardest part is over, she reminded herself. You're one step closer to revenge.