❝ Tell me losing everything is what saved you,
Tell me you finally tasted freedom.
Can you even imagine yourself in paradise?
Even the daughter of gods must know loneliness, must sometimes want nothing more than to be trapped in a hell of forevers...
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January 1486
Lizzie approached her step-mother, who was at the rocking chair with a dozing Kathryn laying on her chest. They all knew the girl was already too old for being coddled so much, but how could they resist? She was Edmund's, after all. She was all they had left of him, part of their Yorkist hope.
Cautiously, Lizzie knelt next to the rocking chair, so her step-mother would be able to hear her and so the ladies would not.
"A stable-boy gave me a letter, Charlotte," she whispered. "I think it's from my Tante in Burgundy."
"Oh, look at the time," Charlotte said suddenly, looking at the window as if she was only just realizing the day was ending and the sky was nearly dark. "Lizzie, could you be a darling and help me put the little ones to bed?"
"Of course," she said demurely, playing the part of the dutiful step-daughter. "Bella, come with me, please."
─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────
Once they were out of hearing range of Margaret's spies, they dropped all pretenses.
"Where is the letter, Lizzie?" Charlotte asked as she laid Kathryn down in her bed, stroking her granddaughter's hair fondly as she settled the girl beneath the sheets.
"I have it here," Lizzie murmured, unlacing the strings of her corset and taking out the folded piece of paper.
"Clever girl," Charlotte smirked, taking it, her facial expression changing drastically as she read it.
"What does it say?" She asked when her step-mother sat down next to her youngest sister's sleeping body, her hand pressed to her heart.
When she received no answer, she took the letter in order to read it for herself.
Oh, Charlotte,
I wish that I could give you better news. But the past few years have not been any easier on this side of the Channel.
As you know, Marie died nearly four years ago now and the lords do not particularly like that I have allowed Maximilian to remain in our lands — apparently, they would prefer Phillip is separated from his father, his only remaining parent.
Yet, I will not bore you with our internal struggles. Our last, great white hope has yet to arrive in my shores and I do not know what to make of this. I wish I could contact my brother-in-law, Thomas was always a resourceful man, after all. Yet the last I heard of Thomas was before my kingly brother's death and I fear for his safety at the moment.
