❝ 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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March 1486
That afternoon, Henry had ordered for a performance to be done for the court, but especially for his wife since he knew the pregnancy was being hard on her body and he wished to cheer her up. Henry sat on his throne with Lily alongside him, both of them smiling.
Charlotte stood from afar with Nora and watched them closely.
Henry turned to Lily, 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."
"I love it," she lied and Henry gave her a look, not knowing if he should believe her. "I do. Truly."
"I am glad," Henry replied as he grabbed ahold of her hand, smiling. "I want to make you happy."
Lily gave him a small smile as she turned around to watch the actors again. However, when she turned her head, to see her mother staring at her and Henry, her smile faded. She sighed in defeat and released her hand from Henry's grip.
Henry frowned as he turned to her in concern. He turned his head, though, to see it was Charlotte who caused Lily to let go of his hand.
He sighed in defeat, but didn't question Lily. He turned her head, averting his attention back to the play.
Bishop Morton entered and Charlotte turned her head to watch as Margaret made her way over to the holy man.
Charlotte groaned internally, recognizing the man. He had been a staunch Lancastrian, fleeing with Margaret and Edouard to France. After her uncle's death, he had made his peace with York and had always kept a chilly relationship with her. Charlotte would not forget he was one of the many who had stood by and allowed Edouard to hurt her during their brief "marriage" and he had always seen her as a whore for going to Edward's bed while he was "married" to Elizabeth.
"Bishop Morton," Margaret greeted the man as she curtsied. "Welcome to our court."
"I am most honored by his Grace, your son," Bishop Morton answered, the two of them looking toward Henry, who sat with Lily with a smile on his face.
They noticed how every few seconds, Henry would turn to Lily and they would exchange a small comment or laugh together.
"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's face turned stern as he looked at Lily and Henry. "And the girl? Is she obedient?"
"Surprisingly so," Margaret replied, letting out a large scoff. "I don't quite trust her behavior. It must be an act, but it suits us well for the moment. She has a role to play, after all. Her mother, on the other hand, most certainly does not. 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 harlot, after all."
