Chapter 7: the Death according to Joan, Queen of England

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The spring flowers are just beginning to bloom. There's blossoms on the trees. And I can't imagine a time I felt so free. In Brittany yes. But then I knew there would be more battles in store. Now there is simply peace in my days ahead. And peace is what matters to me now. I've had what passes in this world for love. Raised my children. And ruled two countries. Born a princess. Twice a queen. And I think I finally am ready to be who I am. We're different people our whole lives. Different parts of ourselves. But the one we are when we are truly free, is the one that matters most. That rage that built in my chest since my girlhood may finally be spent.
I return from my walk without any real regret. I have many others to take. The war is won yes but the battle is not fully ended.
Not at all it seems. When I reach the Jerusalem chamber my husband is in a state only his oldest son can cause.
"Get. Him. Back. Insolent. Bastard. Ungrateful. Hellion. Demon. Bastard," those are the general words they repeat with varying expletives. He can't sit up or shout but he is trying. The doctors are fussing over him and trying to quiet him. It really isn't working.
"Shh, he's always been like this. He might not have meant it, Thomas is on his way soon. You don't have to speak to him again—oh that boy," I realize after far too long that the crown is of course gone. Well, it has been a couple of days I'm honestly surprised he held out this long the boy's self control really is improving.
"He. Took. The crown. That. Ungrateful," Henry punctuates each word with a cough.
"Yes I see that, perhaps he thought you'd passed? You know he doesn't handle grief well I'll go fetch him," I say, patting his arm. He's drooling blood. He'll die within the day Hal couldn't possibly have waited till his father was comatose? What is that boy thinking?

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