ROYAL BLOOD
— 10. Gradual
In his chambers, Edward sat across from Nora, having dinner together. He smiled, looking ahead to see that she was wearing the necklace, even after six years.
She wore it every day and it made him feel delighted. He wanted nothing more than to shower her with gifts, but she always refused them. She claimed his love was all that she ever wanted and needed from him.
"I see you've grown fond of pheasant legs as of late, my love," Edward spoke up, a small smile on his face, "You've had it three days in a row for dinner, yet I could've sworn you hated them before that."
Nora smiled slightly, slowly raising her head to look him in the eyes. "Yes, Edward. I have grown fond of them as of late, among other foods I didn't like before."
"Is it a special...fondness?" He asked, giving her a knowing look.
"Yes, indeed," Nora confined, causing Edward to smile happily since he knew what it meant.
He turned his head, looking at the servants that were in the room. "Leave us," He ordered and the group of servants bowed before their king before leaving the room.
Once they were gone, Edward turned to Nora, a large smile on his face. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?" He asked, referring to the fact that she might have been pregnant.
They had three children already. Arthur, Lizbeth, and little Thomas.
"I am," She confirmed with a smile on her face and began to laugh happily since he knew what it meant.
He stood up, rushing over to Nora's side before kneeling in front of her. He looked up at her, staring at her lovingly. He placed one hand on the side of her face and the other on her belly.
"Oh, I knew it," Edward playfully growled as he placed a kiss to her cheek, "Just by the way you've been acting lately."
"Are you happy?" Nora asked, a shy smile on her face, "I heard Elizabeth is withchild—"
"My love," Edward cut her off, cupping her face in his hands as he knelt before her, "Elizabeth doesn't matter right now. Only you do. You are carrying my child. Our child. Another one. I cannot believe it. You have no idea how happy I am to hear this."
Nora chuckled, smiling as Edward briefly kissed her on the lips before pulling away. He stared into her eyes with such love and adoration, just like he always did. It made her feel as though she could melt at his touch. He made her feel a type of way that was overwhelming yet was still the best feeling in the world to her. It was exhilarating.
"I love you so much, you don't even understand," Edward continued on, a large smile on his face, "Nothing, Nora, and I mean nothing...could change the way I feel about you."
"And I, you," She responded, smiling as she leaned forward. She pressed her lips against his and before she could react, Edward had stood back up and took her along with him. He picked her up, carrying her straight to his bed.
"Edward!" She exclaimed, beginning to laugh at his actions, "What are you doing?"
"We must celebrate the news, my love!" Edward announced in a playful manner, causing Nora to laugh loudly as she fell onto the bed with him.
Two months had passed since Lizbeth decided to gradually open her heart to Henry, despite fearing the consequences.
In her newly given chambers, Lizbeth stood near the window as her ladies tightened the strings of her dress. She looked at herself in the small circular mirror, smiling slightly.
One of the servant girls entered, bowing to Lizbeth. "Your Grace?" She called out politely and Lizbeth turned to look at her, "The king is calling for you."
Lizbeth nodded in understanding and once her ladies were done dressing her, she walked in the direction of the king's rooms.
She stood in front of the closed double doors and after a moment, the guards opened them. The door closed behind her and Henry smiled slightly, turning to face Lizbeth.
She smiled back at him and Henry knew by the look on her face that she was excited about something.
She stopped about two feet in front of Henry and curtsied, continuing to smile at him.
He had never seen her smile so much and it was made him feel relieved and happy, to say the least.
"Are you well?" Henry asked Lizbeth curiously, only to watch as she slowly walked toward him.
She slowly leaned toward him and Henry believed she was going to kiss him. Instead, she moved closer to his ear, beginning to whisper into it. "My sickness has completely passed," She told him softly, a smile on her face.
Henry lifted his hands, his fingers brushing over her hips.
As Lizbeth slowly pulled away, their noses brushed against each other. Lizbeth's lips nearly touched Henry's as he went to kiss her. She nearly let him, only to realize it wasn't a wise choice. Her eyes widened in alarm and she quickly pulled away, which Henry was quick to notice.
"I'm sorry, I just thought..." Henry trailed off, an apologetic look on his face.
"It is quite alright," She smiled at politely as she lightly patted him on the chest.
Henry smiled back at her, despite feeling uneasy.
_____
That afternoon, Henry had a live performance done for the court and especially Lizbeth. Henry sat on his throne with Lizbeth alongside him, both of them smiling.
Nora stood from afar and watched them closely, not that Lizbeth realized it. If she had, she wouldn't have been smiling as much as she was.
Henry turned to Lizbeth, a large smile on his face. "Do you like it?" He asked her curiously, "I recall you telling me that your father used to have celebrations like these and they were always your favorite."
Lizbeth couldn't help but smile, impressed by how Henry had remembered her writing that in one of her letters to him during his exile. "I love it," She told him and Henry gave her a playful look, not knowing if he could believe her, "I do. Truly."
"I am glad," Henry replied as he grabbed ahold of her hand, smiling, "I want to make you happy. Truly."
Lizbeth found herself smiling back at him. However, when she turned her head, to see her mother staring at her and Henry, her smile faded. She sighed in defeat and release her hand from Henry's grip.
Henry frowned as he turned to her in concern. He turned his head, though, to see it was Nora who caused Lizbeth to let go of his hand.
He sighed in defeat, but didn't question Lizbeth. He turned her head, averting his attention back to the play.
In one of the doorways, Bishop Morton entered and Nora turned her head to watch as Margaret made her way over to the man.
Nora rolled her eyes, recognizing the man to be someone who used to be on Edward's council. He was one of the select few who never warmed up to her and refused to officially accept her as a true advisor to Edward, not that he ever admitted that out loud. If he did, it wouldn't have ended well if Edward has heard about it.
"Bishop Morton," Margaret greeted the man as she curtsied before him, "Welcome to our court."
"I am most honored by his Grace, your son," Bishop Morton responded, the two of them looking toward Henry, who sat with Lizbeth with a smile on his face.
They noticed how every few seconds, Henry would turn to Lizbeth, making sure she was satisfied and happy about the performance he was, in truth, only having held for her.
"I find myself appointed to the royal council and made Chancellor of England," He explained and Margaret smiled in response.
"God's will and ours are one," She replied, causing them both to smile.
Bishop Morton remained a content expression, turning to look at Lizbeth and Henry. "And the girl? Is she obedient?"
"Anything but," Margaret replied, letting out a large scoff, "However, she does have a role to play, but not the mother. She is the cause of all the king's problems now, but he fears that executing her will cause an uprising. The people of England love and worship her. Which I find myself unable to understand. She is nothing but a common whore."
When the performance was over, Henry stood up, continuing to clap while Lizbeth remained seated.
As Henry walked away to speak to Lord Strange and Lord Stanley, Lizbeth made her way over to her mother, who smiled at her mischievously.
"Your smile is almost convincing. Your husband clearly believes it," Nora told her daughter, making Lizbeth believe that her mother was convinced that her smiles were fake when they actually weren't.
Nora knew better, though. She wasn't blind nor was she a fool. She could see the way Henry looked at Lizbeth and she could also see that despite trying to hide it, Lizbeth was beginning to look at him in the same manner.
She acted as though she didn't know, though, wanting to see what her daughter would say in return.
Lizbeth smiled fakely, turning to glance around at the rest of the crowd. "My face aches from it," She responded and Nora tried to hide her disappointment when she realized her daughter was no longer on her side, "I swear, Mother, if I have to hear about his years in exile one more time, I shall slit his throat in his sleep just to be rid of him."
Lizbeth continued to smile, despite knowing that she was lying through her teeth. She wouldn't admit it, but she loved the stories about his time in exile.
She could sit there for hours and listen to him talk about it. She found it interesting and she loved hearing about what he had been doing in France all those years when he wasn't writing to her.
Those letters could only contain so much. Now, he could tell the stories in more detail without having to worry about filling the page too quickly.
Lizbeth turned her head, watching as Margaret introduced Henry to Bishop Morton.
Her mother didn't respond, causing Lizbeth to turn her head to see that her mother's eyes were glued to Henry and Margaret as they spoke to Bishop Morton.
"I haven't the slightest clue how I shall this charade up for eight whole weeks on Royal Progress," She continued on, and finally, Nora turned to her with a smile.
"Don't look so glum. We shall make all of this work to our advantage," Nora vaguely stated, finding herself not trusting enough to tell her the rest.
At this rate, she trusted Lizzie more than Lizbeth and Lizzie wasn't even her actual daughter.
"I just wish I was coming with you," Nora continued on, letting out a small sigh in defeat.
"Cecily and Katherine might be intolerable at times, but at least you'll have Lizzie," Lizbeth assured her mother with a smile on her face, "I see how you favor her. I suppose it has something to do with the involvement she had with Arthur?"
"What can I say? I've grown fond of the girl," Nora jokingly responded and before the conversation could continue, Margaret walked over.
"Bishop Morton has arrived at court," Margaret informed Lizbeth in a calm tone, "I wish to--"
"The laces in my daughter's dress are far too tight. It's making it hard for her to breathe and if it troubles her, it must trouble the baby," Nora explained to the woman in a calm tone, "We will change it in her rooms."
Nora sent Margaret a small smirk before she began to walk toward the exit of the room.
Lizbeth gave Margaret a playful look, just before following her mother out of the room.
Moments later, after arriving in the room, Lizbeth stood with her back facing her mother, allowing Nora to fix her dress, despite it just being an excuse to get away.
"Royal Progress is finally our chance to flush out who is still for York," Nora informed her daughter in a calm tone, "Our first man in crucial. He will help us find others who shall support us."
"Clearly, the De La Pools are out, they turned their coats so quickly none of us even had time to react to it," Lizbeth explained as she glanced over at the door, knowing that at any moment, her ladies would enter.
"The Staffords have publicly refused to bend their knee to Henry, but we cannot associate with them so early on or all will be ruined," She explained and Lizbeth's eyes widened as she thought of a person.
"Francis Lovell," She stated, causing Nora to give her a puzzled look, despite knowing that she was right.
She was testing her daughter, seeing if what she thought was happening to her was correct. Was she switching sides?
"Lovell?" Nora asked, playing dumb, "I thought he switched sides to Tudor."
"Father used to say that outside of this family, Francis was the purest, whitest York in all of England. Arthur agreed with him. He was raised alongside Uncle Richard at Lord Warwick's castle during the early years of the war, just before you met Father. When he became co-regents with you, Uncle Richard trusted him most of all. He told Arthur once that he would trust him with his life. No matter what coat he chose to wore, he is a York right to his core. I know it," Lizbeth explained and Nora gradually began to smile, despite already knowing that.
Richard had been her lover before he died. She ruled beside him for two whole years. How couldn't she know such a thing?
"Then Lovell is our man," Nora responded in a calm tone, "Where can we find him?"
"In York, of course," Lizbeth stated the obvious and Nora smiled.
"Then you must find a way to convince Henry to travel through York on his progress," Nora suggested, causing Lizbeth to frown in confusion.
"And how am I supposed to--" Before Lizbeth could finish her sentence, two of her ladies walked in, much to her dismay.
Nora chuckled lightly. She glanced at them, just before turning her attention back to the tight strings on the front of her daughter's dress.
_____
It was afternoon time and Henry stood in the gardens alongside Lizbeth, the two of them shooting arrows at the targets.
Lord Stanley, his brother, Margaret, Jasper, and a few other loyal subjects stood near them as they spoke to Henry about the royal progress.
Margaret was clearly unhappy about Lizbeth being allowed to shoot a bow alongside Henry, but had no choice but to oblige to it.
"I ride through England, and I do what exactly?" Henry questioned as he released an arrow, which embedded itself into the neck of the nearest target.
"You show off your person. Your righteous sovereignty," Margaret explained with pride, earning an eye roll from Lizbeth.
"That's it?" Henry questioned, an uneasy amused look on his face, "I just 'parade'?"
"The people need to see you with their own eyes," Jasper spoke up before Margaret continued on with her prideful speech.
"And you must look to them as wealthy and as regal as God made you," She explained with a smile on her face.
"Which is why your likeness will soon grace every sovereign from the royal mint," Lord Stanley added in, earning a loud scoff from Lizbeth.
Henry immediately lowered his bow. He turned to look at his wife, raising a brow at her. "Have something you'd like to add, Lizbeth?" He questioned, a small smile on his face.
Margaret frowned, wondering why Henry was adding her into the conversation.
"Perhaps Lord Stanley is right, in a way, but it will not gain you the loyalty you truly need. The smallfolk," She explained, only to notice the weird looks she was receiving, "It is the small folk's loyalty and favor that is most important, despite what you may think. They might be invisible to most of us, but they do matter. They are the one plowing our fields, planting our crops, serving our foods, and dressing us in the morning. You act as though you're superior to them in the eyes of God and man and they will hate you for it."
"We are royalty. They are mere peasants. Of course we're more important in God's eyes," Margaret explained, shooting Lizbeth a glare before she turned to Henry, "Do not listen to her, Henry. She is wrong."
"I'm wrong? I am the daughter of two people who were worshipped by the small folk, especially by those living in London. How do you think my mother gained the love of the people of London so quickly? She related to them. She treated them as equals. She gave them gifts and asked for nothing in return. She cared for them when no one else would. She did the same for the people in Wales and they practically worshipped her for it. You treat them as friends and they will love you for it, Henry," She explained and the entire group watched Henry take in every single detail that came out of Lizbeth's mouth.
At that mention of her mother, though, Henry knew she was right. He finally understood why Nora was loved so much by the people and he knew it would be wise to follow in her footsteps, despite what his mother said.
Nora did that and got treated like a queen even when she wasn't. Henry was king so perhaps if he did what Lizbeth said, he actually be a king in more than just name.
A servant walked over, carrying different patterns of fabric. He went to ask Henry which one he wanted, but Margaret ended up beating him to it.
"This one and this," She ordered, but before the man could walk away, Henry stopped him.
"No. Black," Henry demanded in a stern tone, causing Margaret to give him an annoyed look while Lizbeth smirked in satisfaction, "I wish to keep it plain. My wife is right. I can't be looking so regal or they'll hate me for it."
"You must wear a sword, though," Sir William Stanley reminded him, causing Henry to turn to him with a puzzled look.
"I thought this was to win their hearts, not threaten them with bloodshed?" He complained as he shot another arrow.
"Your subjects are still reeling from the battle and the change of House," Jasper explained to Jasper in a calm tone, "You killed three men of House York in that battle. They are still unhappy about that. Some still seek vengeance."
"I did not kill three of them," Henry argued defensively, not even realizing that Lizbeth was staring at him, "I'm not the one who stabbed Prince Thomas in the back and had my men beat him to death as a way to distract his elder brother before he could kill me."
Henry shot a glare at Lord Stanley, but soon realized that everyone's eyes were elsewhere. He sighed in defeat, turning to see Lizbeth staring at him closely. She was trying her hardest to maintain compsoure.
She hadn't known it was Lord Stanley who stabbed Thomas in the back. She couldn't believe it. Wasn't killing Edmund and Grace alongside Margaret enough?
Lizbeth quickly turned her head, avoiding eye contact with her husband and the rest of them.
"The wounds of England will take time to heal," Sir William spoke up in an assuring tone, attempting to change the subject before it got out of hand, "There may be... skirmishes."
Henry sighed, trying to hide his uneasiness as he shot another arrow. He released the arrow in the direction of the heart of the farthest target. However, it ended up shooting into the target's stomach instead.
"The Yorks are routed, Henry. They are gone," Margaret assured her son in a calm tone, "There is none to come against you now."
Lizbeth found herself smirking in satisfaction as she released her arrow. The group watched as the arrow glided through the air, just before finding its way embedded in the heart of the furthest target, which Henry had previously found himself unable to reach.
Margaret tensed up, but tried her best to contain it.
Lizbeth continued to smirk, knowing that all eyes were on her. They took it as a warning while Henry did not.
He smiled at Lizbeth, impressed that she had gotten the shot on the first try.