For King and Country

Preface

Preface

*14 Years Earlier*

"Father," The labored breathing of the king, Nathaniel, filled the empty spaces of the room as the night slowly turned to day outside the heavily curtained windows, "Where is she?" 

"She's just outside, Nathaniel. Would you like to see her?" His father, Henry asked, his face drawn up in worry as he sat at his sons bedside. 

"Not...Not yet..." The King coughed, a horrible, scraping cough that made the doctor in the corner step forward. "This is what death feels like?" It was a question, a horrible question, but Nathanial laughed as he spoke, spinning into another coughing fit. 

"I'm afraid I don't have that answer, my boy." Henry laughed, tears springing to his eyes as his last, living child's life faded away. "I'd give anything to know that and you not." He whispered reaching up to stroke his son's face. Nathaniel eyes fluttered shut, his face so similar to when he was a boy. Yesterday, Henry thought spitefully, it was just like yesterday. 

"It'll be okay, old man," His son tried to sit up, making his doctor, who stood across the room, fidget. "I'll be with my wife and son soon." 

"Don't speak like that."

"Father, I'm dying." His son said as forcefully as he could, finally drawing himself into a slightly raised position. "My wife is dead, my son is dead, my brother and sister are dead, but for some reason, you're left, and so is she." Henry had been pondering that since his son had taken ill. Why did everyone die but him? "The world was destined for her, Henry. I see it every time I look at her. But this court...it will ruin her. The women already try to ruin her spirit, stuffing her in dresses so she can't play properly in the garden or scold her when she says something too smart." He coughed again, blood staining the handkerchief and the corner of his lip.

"She's extraordinary, Nathaniel. That's why..." Henry tried to say, but Nathaniel interrupted him. 

"Beside your head, Father, are two little birds, and I think my beautiful wife is standing in that corner there, waiting for me." His son said, his blue green eyes shifting out of focus for a moment. "Take her away from this place. Give her to Sir Winesbury, and his wife Danielle. Let them take her far away, and live a simple life. Then, when she is ready, bring her home. Tell her about her mother, and her brother, and me if you have time. Hopefully she'll remember me." 

A tear strolled down Henry cheek. "I can't my son... She's the only family I have left... especially if you're convinced you're leaving me." He looked down, crossing his wrinkled hands. He was an old man, and he deserved a happy life, but all around him was tragedy. His son's white hand wrapped over his. 

"It's like you always said.." his son laughed, his voice thick with pain and tears. "We all must sacrifice for king and country..." He looked up at his son, a strong and powerful leader, and laughed through his own tears as his son cried freely now. 

"Not for ourselves alone are we born..." Henry whispered, squeezing his hand. "It's on our coat of arms for a reason." 

"Teach her that... but not until she's old enough. At least sixteen. But please don't let her marry some farmer...or anyone for that matter... not until she's thirty." Henry laughed as his son struggled to raise his hand to wipe his face. Henry obliged, grabbing the handkerchief to mop his son's tear stained face. "Can..can I see her?" His son's voice cracked in sadness as Henry nodded, hurrying to the door to call the nurse in.

"Grandfader...where's papa?" She asked from her nurse's arms. He took the toddler in a pretty white dress from her.

"He's in bed right now darling... he isn't feeling well..." Henry tried to explain.

"Like mama when I was little?" She sniffed, her pretty eyes watering. He smiled gently. 

"Yes like Mama," He whispered. "Would you like to say goodbye to him." She nodded vigorously. He took her to the bed, letting her crawl beside her father, and rest her head on his chest. 

"Papa...don't go like Mama." She begged, her little voice so sad. Nathaniel's face streamed as he looked at her, stroking her dark hair gently. "I didn't get to see her either, now I won't get to see you either." 

"Oh, sweet heart," He whispered. "I must. But you must be strong, and listen to Grandfather, and remember to read as much as you can, about everything..." He whispered, trailing his fingers on her porcelain cheeks. She pouted, and her little lips started quivering. 

"But you're supposed to read to me... Come on Papa, let's read..." Her father shook his head, and she started insisting, she grabbed his face with her fat little hands, staring down at him. He reached up, smiling softly, grabbing over it.

"I love you my darling," He whispered. "Oh... how I wish I could..." Nathaniel left his sentence unfinished.

Henry never found out his sons wish. But oh how his granddaughter cried in his arms, crying for her father. Crying for her mother that she had never known. How he cried after he sent his son to be buried, and he put the crown back upon his head. How he cried when he sent her away. Not for ourselves alone, Henry. He kept repeating in his head. Not for ourselves alone.