The Queen's Gambit tells the story of a rekindled obsession as King Henry VIII reunites with his childhood companion, the captivating Princess Eleanor, who has just returned to England from Italy. Once close, their bond now ignites into a dangerous...
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A Few Days Later
It had been a few days since the tension between Henry and Charles had come to a head, and on the surface, all seemed well again. The king and his closest friend had made up, laughing and sharing stories as though nothing had happened. But beneath that veneer of camaraderie, the real reason for their reconciliation was much more complicated.
Eleanor's tears had done the trick.
Sitting in her chambers now, Eleanor allowed herself a small smile of satisfaction. She thought back to the moment a few days ago when the rift between Henry and Charles had threatened to grow too wide to bridge. Both men had been cold and distant with one another, their interactions laced with awkwardness. But all it took was one carefully orchestrated conversation and a few strategically timed tears to smooth everything over.
Flashback
Eleanor had arranged for the three of them—Henry, Charles, and herself—to meet in the king's private garden. It was a quiet space, surrounded by thick hedges and blooming roses, a place where the world could be shut out and emotions could flow freely. Eleanor knew the setting would be perfect.
She had entered the garden first, her heart pounding with anticipation. This was a delicate situation, and she needed to handle it with the utmost care. When Henry and Charles arrived moments later, both men were stiff, barely looking at each other as they stood on either side of her.
"Thank you both for coming," Eleanor began, her voice soft, almost pleading. "I wanted to talk about what happened between you two."
Henry crossed his arms, his jaw set in a hard line. Charles, too, looked tense, his gaze fixed on the ground. Neither man spoke, the silence between them heavy and charged.
Eleanor took a breath, letting her gaze fall to the ground before raising it again, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "This... this tension between you both has been tearing at my heart," she whispered, her voice trembling just enough to convey the emotion she wanted to show. "I care for both of you so much, and to see you at odds..."
The tears began to spill down her cheeks, one by one, soft and unassuming. She didn't sob or wail—no, her sadness was quiet, dignified. But it was enough.
Henry's face immediately softened as he saw her tears. He stepped forward, reaching for her hand, his voice full of concern. "Eleanor, don't cry. Please."
Charles, too, was affected. The sight of Eleanor in distress seemed to cut through his anger and frustration. He shifted uncomfortably but finally looked up at her, his own expression softening. "Eleanor, we didn't mean to upset you."
Eleanor shook her head, wiping at her tears with the back of her hand. "It's just... you two are so important to me. I couldn't bear the thought of losing either of you. Please don't let this misunderstanding come between you."
