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°➶☽∘ ✥ ∘☾➴°
❝𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐄you challenge me?" Henry exclaims, his voice ringing through the hallways of Westminster. Any wandering servants or maids look away quickly, "It was your mother's dying wish. Does that mean nothing to you?"
"She was dying!" Harry counters, throwing his arms in the air in frustration, "She was in agony!"
"And you would put yourself ahead of the queen's command?" Henry asks, annoyance and shock lacing his tone. He looks over at his eldest living son in distaste.
"No. I think that you asked this from her," Harry replies, his voice tone showing a bit of accusation in it, "Why would her final wish be to take away my happiness?"
"You always think everything is happening to you," the king replies, glaring at his son.
"No, I think, Father, that you are jealous. . ." Harry replies with a heavy breath, ". . .jealous of my confidence and my courage. And I think you seek to take away the one thing that I desire."
Without another word, he walks off.
Little did Henry know, Harry wasn't talking about Catherine, but really Alexandra, who was hesitant about their relationship. She didn't want anyone to be suspicious, which is why she wanted him to seem like he wanted someone else and not her. No one would suspect their feelings for each other then.
Harry was truly angry with his father for not telling him of Alexandra's true parents and means of birth.
The two's rather louder argument is overheard by Lady Margaret and Alexandra, who are making their way from prayer. They make their way over to Henry, and Lady Margaret turns to Alexandra, saying, "You should go after him. Calm him down, we don't need anymore gossip in this palace."
Alexandra nods, running after her 'brother.'
She catches up with him moments later, placing a hand on his back as he starts to rant to her about the conversation he just had with their father. As the son complains to his 'sister', the father complains to his own mother.
"What did we do to make him as he is?" Henry asks his mother once the two princelings are out of sight, "As if this wasn't already hard enough."
"For once I find myself agreeing with your late wife, God rest her soul," Lady Margaret replies, making the sign of the Cross with her hand as she holds back her triumph.
