ROYAL BLOOD
— 35. Prince Edmund

  After what happened in the streets of London, George was escorted with his wrists bound all the way to the King's Wardrobe.

Lord Stanley opened the double doors before entering. "Here we are," he informed George, who was pushed forward.

George stumbled, but was quick to steady himself. He turned around, coming face to face with Margaret Beaufort.

"Now he can play king to his heart's content," Lord Stanley told his wife as the door closed.

George watched on, letting out a large sigh in defeat. He glanced around, an annoyed look on his face.

____

  In the River Thames of London, it was nighttime. Nora snuck through the streets, led by John de la Pole. Lizzie and Margaret walked with her, the latter holding the hand of Marie, who was seven years old.

"Do we know where they are keeping my son?" Nora asked, a concerned look on her face.

"He is at Westminster," John de la Pole answered in a calm tone, "Henry hopes the mask will fall if he observes him long enough. Hurry, Madams, please. We have prepared rooms for you four."

"That's fine by me, but there's a message I must send to someone first," Nora answered in a calm tone.

_____

From her chamber window, Lizbeth watched silently as Cathy Gordon arrived in the courtyard on horseback. She held her baby boy in her arms as she rode in and Lizbeth felt uneasy.

She knew what happened to York boys when Tudors were around. Her brother Edmund and her cousin Teddy were prime examples of that.

Lizbeth heard someone approaching her, but still, she did not turn. She figured it was either Henry or Maggie. Either way, she didn't care.

"Cathy Gordon!" Maggie exclaimed in shock as she looked out the window alongside Lizbeth.

"Why is she here?" Lizbeth asked Maggie, an uneasy look on her face as he turned to Maggie.

___

In the King's wardrobe room, George was crouched down in front of the fireplace. He had only a small scrap of fur to shield him from the cold, causing him to shiver as he sat in front of the small fire.

"Here, boy," Lord Stanley called out as he entered the room, snapping his fingers at George, "Come on."

George frowned, turning to give the man a questioning look. "Come where?" He asked worriedly, but Lord Stanley didn't answer.

In another part of the castle, Bishop Morton escorted Cathy over to Margaret alongside some Tudor guards.

"Lady Catherine Gordon," Margaret greeted the young woman who carried her infant son in her arms, "I am my Lady, the King's Mother. Welcome to court."

"I know who you are," Cathy snapped at Margaret in a cold tone, "Where is my husband?"

Cathy rocked slightly as her son began to cry. From the corner of her eye, she could see someone approaching. She turned her head, only to have her eyes widen at the sight of a woman she knew must have George's sister Lizbeth.

Despite not truly looking like her mother, it was obvious that Lizbeth was Nora's daughter just by the way she carried herself.

Lizbeth stopped at the other end of the hallway, her eyes widening at the sight of Cathy Gordon.

Cathy uneasily pressed a kiss to the top of her son's head and turned her attention back to Margaret, who was quick to point out what Cathy had failed to do.

"Please curtsey to the Queen," She insisted in a stern tone.

Cathy sighed, turning her attention back toward Lizbeth as she curtsied as best as she could while holding her son.

"This way," Margaret finally spoke up and walk in the opposite direction of where Lizbeth was standing, Cathy following soon after her.

Outside, Lord Stanley led George into the courtyard. Once doing so, he came to a stop and pointed down toward a large pile of horse dung. "Clear the dung and scrub the steps," He instructed George as he held out a shovel for him to take.

"I've already told you. I will do nothing to debase myself," George argued as he turned to glare at the man.

Inside, Margaret had purposely come to a stop when the nearest window gave Cathy a clear view of her husband wearing peasant clothes.

Worried, Cathy rushed over to the window and looked down at her husband.

"And when you've finished, you will bring this noble lady's belongings inside," Lord Stanley continued on as he ignored what George had said.

"I will not—" George began to argue, only to be cut off as he was shoved forward by two guards.

He grunted, his face nearly colliding with the horse dung.

Inside, Cathy turned to Margaret with a look of disbelief on her face. "What is he doing?" he asked, a deeply concerned look on her face.

"His claims are false," Lizbeth suddenly spoke up after appearing. She walked toward Cathy, a cold look on her face, "He is a servant."

"He is your brother!" Cathy exclaimed, a betrayed look on her face as she looked at Lizbeth, "Your last brother."

"Your marriage is annulled," Margaret suddenly butted in, knowing the look on Lizbeth's face all too well. She was starting to believe Cathy.

"It was made under false pretenses," Margaret argued, causing Cathy to begin to glare at the woman.

"The only thing false is your son's claim to the throne," Cathy growled at Margaret, who was quick to do what she did to Lizbeth whenever she used to say something like that. Ignore it by acting as though she never heard it.

   Outside, Lord Stanley tossed the shovel to George, who was in the middle of pushing himself up and off the ground. "Your wife and son are here at court," He informed George in a calm tone, causing George to lift his head and stared up at Lord Stanley in alarm.

  "You shall resume your maiden name, and your son will be called a bastard," Margaret continued on inside the castle, causing Cathy's eyes to widen as she glanced between Margaret and Lizbeth, "But you will be treated in accordance with your royal birth."

"So I am your prisoner?" Cathy asked, glancing between the two women.

"You are our guest," Margaret answered in a calm tone.

"What if I don't wish to be your guest?" Cathy retorted with an attitude, "A guest has the right to leave if they wish to."

"And you may if that is what you wish," Margaret replied as if it were nothing, "You can leave your son and freely return to Scotland."

"I beg your pardon?" Cathy asked, an offended look on her face.

Cathy turned her head, only to frown when she saw two nursemaids make her way over to her. "What name have you given him?" Margaret asked, a kind smile on her face.

"He will be attended to by midwives. Mary and Joan will take good care of him," Margaret informed Cathy as Mary went to step forward to take the baby from his mother's arms.

"No," Cathy argued in a stern tone, trying to stop the woman from taking her son, "No!"

Cathy turned to Lizbeth, giving her a pleading look, but Lizbeth ignored it.

Edmund cried as he was snatched from his mother's arms. Cathy continued to try to fight back, her eyes remaining on Lizbeth. "You cannot let them do this."

"You are of royal birth. It is the custom," Margaret continued on, a kind smile on her face.

Not being able to take it anymore, Lizbeth turned on her heel, beginning to walk away without another word said.

"He is your nephew! Edmund!" Cathy cried out to Lizbeth, who ignored her as she left, tears in her own eyes.

The midwife, Mary, held Edmund in her eyes as she locked eyes on Cathy. Cathy frowned, watching as the woman nodded slightly before taking the child away.

Mary.

She was the midwife from George's story. The one who took care of him and his siblings when they were little. The one whose mother was the one to take her care of Nora as a child. She was loyal to them. At least, she hoped that to still be true.

Cathy turned to Margaret, who continued to smile at her almost tauntingly. She wiped her eyes, choking back a sob as she finally spoke up. "I need to see my husband," She demanded in a determined tone.

Margaret smiled even wider, nodding her head before she began to walk away.

At another part of the castle, George was escorted back inside before he was shoved into an empty room, right before the door closed behind him.

He suddenly froze, however, when his eyes locked on Cathy, who stood near the window. "Cathy?" He called out, causing Cathy to turn to face him, on the verge of crying.

"George!" Cathy sighed in relief as she ran toward her husband, immediately hugging him tightly, "Are you hurt?"

George didn't answer immediately. Instead, he cupped her face in his hands, kissing her passionately.

Seeing the woman he loved after being in literal hell the past few days gave him a sort of relief. A sensation that made him feel as though everything was going to be okay.

"Cathy. Oh, Cathy," George whispered softly, continuing to cup his wife's face in his hands as he leaned his forehead against hers, "Why are you here? How did they find you?"

"The monks said—" She began to say, causing George to frown in concern.

"The monk?" He asked, a deeply confused look on his face.

"The monks said that I should come to you, that I can help you," Cathy informed George, whose eyes widened in shock, "They've taken Edmund."

George quietly gasped, a fearful look on his face as he placed his hands on her shoulders. "Oh, Cathy, they've lied to you to bring you here. You've given them what they want," He explained to her, and Cathy was quick to argue.

"They would not dare to hurt me. I am Scottish royal," Cathy argued in a stern tone.

"I wasn't talking about you, Cathy," he reminded her, giving her a knowing look.

"Don't say it!" Cathy pleaded, tears beginning to form in her eyes, "Do not say it, George. Please don't say it."

"Oh, Cathy," George sighed softly, tears beginning to form in her eyes, "You should have stayed as I had asked of you. You've now given what they want. Our son. My heir. The last York prince aside from Teddy and me."

"They will not hurt our Edmund," Cathy argued in a stern tone, refusing to believe such a thing, "No, they can't!"

Before Cathy could anxiously pace, George grabbed her by the hands and pulled her back toward him. "My love, where have they taken him?" George asked his wife in a concerned tone, "Cathy where is he? Where is he now?"

"You know what they did to my little brothers in the Tower. They killed them and they never found their bodies. I saw them before I fled, though. They were butchered. The sight still plagues my mind every night as I sleep," George explained in a hushed tone, but Henry, who had been watching from the second level balcony, was still able to listen in, "One of them is still alive. He's in the castle. And he's one of the King's Trusted Advisors. I stabbed him in the shoulder when I was a boy to get away, but he's still alive. He killed Edmund and we never found his body. It was them, Cathy."

Henry frowned as he listened in. He turned to his mother, who had an emotionless look on his face.

"Now, why are you here, Cathy?" George asked his wife worriedly as he held her hands, "You were meant to be in sanctuary."

"They said we are not married. That I can go to Scotland but our baby must stay here," Cathy explained to him in a nervous tone, "But I won't. I refuse to leave you or our baby boy. I won't!"

"Shh. Cathy," George hushed Cathy, trying to calm her down as he cupped her face in his hands, "I think it's time we change our plan."

Cathy frowned, looking up at George with a questioning look on her face. "What?"

"I will give up my claim," George decided, causing Cathy to be quick to argue.

"No!" Cathy exclaimed, giving George a look of disbelief, "You can't deny your birthright. You are the son of Nora of Lancaster and King Edward IV. The blood of the mighty Thomas FitzRoy flows through your veins. You are God's anointed king. If you give up your claim, George, the Scots and all of Europe would abandon you," She explained, cupping his face in her hands as she stared deeply into his eyes, "The only thing that keeps you safe and us with you, is if you hold fast and they back us."

"I'm so sorry, my love," George told Cathy softly, a saddened look on his face, "I'm sorry for all that is happening."

"It is not your fault," Cathy assured him, a soft smile on her face. She continued to smile, leaning forward to kiss George on the lips. They kissed passionately for a long moment before Cathy pulled away and hugged him.

Just then, she moved her lips closer to George's ear, beginning to whisper in his ear. "Henry is watching us. As is his mother. I can't let them hear this," She paused, taking a deep breath before continuing on, "The midwife taking care of our son is Mary. I believe our son will be safe and I think we have your mother to thank for that."

George remained silent and nodded, knowing if he responded, it would raise alarm with those watching because they wouldn't have been able to hear what Cathy had said.

George smiled, pulling away from the hug before he leaned forward and kissed Cathy g gently on the lips.

Henry sighed, turning on his heel before he walked off the balcony and back into the balcony.

"You see now that you have cards to play?" Margaret told Henry as she turned to face him with a satisfied smile on her face, "A wife and a son. It's quite a hand."

Her smile faded, however, when she looked up to see the disappointed look on Henry's face. "Even to his wife, he holds the lie."

"No, he knows that he is spied on," Margaret retorted, squinting her eyes at her son, "He is a fake, but not a fool. Surely, Nora is to thank for that."

"He thinks it was a Tudor who killed the boys in the Tower. One of my most trusted advisors," Henry informed Margaret, who was quick to argue.

"Then he only shows his ignorance," Margaret retorted in a stern tone.

"Who could it be if not Richard working in the name of Nora, the woman he loved more than his own wife and son?" Henry asked and Margaret felt uneasy when she saw that Henry was genuinely beginning to think about it.

"It was Richard," Margaret argued in a stern tone, "To take the throne for himself and Nora."

Margaret practically glared at Henry, just before storming off.

Henry watched his mother leave, beginning to frown when he noticed just how defensive she seemed to have gotten. What was that about?

____

That night, in the castle's nursery, Mary, Edmund's new nursemaid, stood in front of the cradle, looking down at the crying boy. She sighed in defeat, taking a moment before she lifted him up and out of the cradle.

She wasn't supposed to pick him up. She was told not to. She was supposed to not even care for the boy. She was supposed to just watch and make sure no one took the boy. Margaret wanted him neglected. She wanted him to die and Mary couldn't just let that happen. She wasn't a monster.

The door suddenly opened, causing Mary to jump in fright. However, she sighed in relief when the cloaked figure removed their hood to reveal themselves to be the one and only Lizzie.

She carried a baby of her own. One that happened to be sleeping.

"Oh, thank God," Mary sighed in relief, only to watch Lizzie walk over to the cradle and place the sleeping baby inside Edmund's cradle, "What are you doing?"

"Switching the babies. What does it look like?" Lizzie answered calmly as she looked up at Mary, "Now, hand me Prince Edmund. He will be taken to safety."

An uneasy look on her face, Mary nodded her head. She handed the baby to Lizzie, who rocked him slightly to quieten him down.

"You will keep this to yourself," Lizzie insisted and Mary nodded, watching as Lizzie left the room without another word said.

_____

Henry laid in bed with Lizbeth, who was sitting up slightly while Henry's head rested on her stomach. Her arm was wrapped around him slightly as she laid in silence, feeling herself consumed with guilt after watching Margaret have Cathy's son snatched from his mother's arms before being taken away.

"It was your mother, then, who brought her here?" Lizbeth suddenly found herself speaking up as she looked down at Henry with a nervous look on her face.

"She is his link to King James and the Scottish army," Henry answered in a calm tone, "Their union must be broken."

"And how do you plan on breaking it?" Lizbeth asked, trying to hide her uneasiness as Henry remained silent, "An annulment will not stop the feelings they have for each other."

"You think she cares for him?" Henry questioned, beginning to frown in concern.

"Even a blind man could see how much they love each other," Lizbeth replied, causing Henry to feel uneasy, "She loves him so much that it doesn't matter that he has little else to offer her."

Henry sighed in defeat and nodded his head, taking in what she was saying. "You will take her as your lady, which will at least appease the Scots," He paused, remaining silent for a long moment.

He felt nervous, wondering if it was wise to ask what he planned to next. Of course, though, as always, he did it anyway.

"Tell me of your brother. George," Henry insisted, causing Lizbeth to frown in concern, "I knew Arthur and Thomas. I knew Grace and Katherine as well, but I never knew George or Edmund. What was George like?"

"It was a long time ago," Lizbeth replied as Henry lifted his head to look her in the eye, "Another lifetime."

"You said he was there that day when my soldiers came for you," Henry argued as he sat up to meet her at eye view, "What was he wearing? What was said? Tell me everything."

Lizbeth sighed in defeat, noticing the desperate look on his face. She remained silent for a long moment, just before beginning to tell him the story of what happened on that day.

_____

At the inn she was staying at, Nora sat at a table, writing a letter to Maximilian in Austria when she heard light footsteps. She turned her head, only to smile when her eyes locked on Marie.

"Can't sleep?" She asked the seven-year-old girl, who shook her head, "Come, child. Sit with me. I'm writing a letter to your father."

Marie smiled innocently, wasting no time making her way over to Nora, her godmother. Nora smiled back at her, picking the girl up before placing her in her lap.

Marie looked down, watching as Nora wrote the letter to Maximilian, the father she had seen but once in her life.

"This is what it is to be a woman like ourselves," Nora informed Marie as she signed her name for what felt like the hundredth time that day, "We have to fight tooth and nail for the things we believe in. Remember these odds, Marie. Remember this pain and anxiety we're all feeling now that George is in the enemy's clutches. For if we win, we'll never have to fight again. I'll make sure of it."

"Don't you ever tire of living like this?" Marie asked, a curious look on her face as she turned to Nora, "Of having to fight all the time?"

Nora smiled, wasting no time shaking her head. "Never. I was born a fighter and I've been continuing to fight my entire life. I never wanted my sons to become Kings, but my darling Edward made me promise. He made me promise to help put Arthur on the throne. I did, but then Henry Tudor, his own friend, ripped him off of it and killed him. Arthur might be gone, as are Thomas and Edmund, but George is still here and I intend to fight until my dying breath to make sure his backside finds its way onto the throne of England."

"Even if it means your own death?" Marie frowned, furrowing her eyebrows in confusion.

"Even if it means my own death," Nora nodded, causing Marie's eyes to widen in astonishment.

"I want to be like you when I'm older," Marie confessed, an amazed look on her face, "I want to be strong. And powerful. I want to be a warrior like you. One that doesn't need to use a sword to be strong. One whose power comes from their minds. I want to be smart like you."

Nora chuckled, amused by what Marie was saying. "Trust me, my child. You want to be nothing like me. Being like me will lead to you living a life filled with misery."

"What about Edward?" Marie asked, a concerned look on her face, "Were you miserable with him?"

"Of course not," Nora argued, shaking her head, "I was the happiest that I had ever been when I was with him. I loved him more than anything in the world. I still do."

"It's been fifteen years now without him and I think of him every day," Nora confessed, tears beginning to form in her eyes at the thought, "I'm so lonely without him by my side. Even now, I'm still not used to being without him. I'm fifty-five now and it seems as though nearly everyone I've ever truly loved has died while I just go on and on and on."

Nora couldn't help herself and she began to cry. She had been bottling it up for so long that she couldn't keep it contained any longer. One question and it made it all come free.

Marie felt saddened, thinking it was her own fault for making Nora cry. She immediately hugged the woman tightly, attempting to make her feel better. "Please don't cry," She pleaded softly, "I don't like when people cry. It makes me cry too."

Nora smiled sadly, wiping her tears as Marie continued to hug her.

However, the duo's conversation got cut short when the door suddenly opened, revealing Lizzie to be standing there while holding little Edmund.

It had been nearly eleven years since Lizbeth's eldest son had been born and since then, Nora had found herself with three grandsons and two granddaughters.

However, she had gotten to meet any of them.

Now, little Edmund, her grandson, was here. The boy named after her own youngest son.

Marie and Nora both stood up, making their way toward Lizzie. "It worked?" Nora asked, her eyes lighting up at the thought.

Lizzie smiled, nodding her head at the woman who had become like a mother to her in the past ten years. "It did," She confirmed, her smile becoming wider as she placed the child in his grandmother's arms.

Nora's eyes widened, staring down at the small infant as she chuckled slightly. "We must protect him," Nora declared, speaking in a determined tone, "God forbid something happened to my poor George, it is our duty to protect his son."

"I will guard him until my dying breath," Lizzie declared, earning a slight nod from Nora.

As she held little Edmund in her arms, Nora looked down at Marie, who watched the sight closely, taking in everything that was happening as if she were a sponge.

In a way, she was, she'd remember these conversations in the years to come and never forget any of it. And how it led to the demise of the only true family she ever had.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Kinda had a introduction toward the end of this about Marie and Edmund, who will be in the third book in this series.

Edmund is around 1 in this scene while Marie is 7.