Chapter LVIII

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"Edward? Mon cheri?" Charlotte entered his bedchamber with small, hesitant steps

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"Edward? Mon cheri?" Charlotte entered his bedchamber with small, hesitant steps. The room was dark and had an air of sickness about it, yet Charlotte knew without a doubt that there was no sickness troubling him. None that were physical anyway, he was definitely not well mentally, but who could blame him?

"I am here, mon coeur," his voice was hoarse and sounded tired and when Charlotte laid her eyes upon him, she realized that he looked as bad as he sounded.

Charlotte walked towards him, placing her hand on top of his and a small kiss to his tousled hair. "What happened?"

"George...he has been plotting with Louis to murder me and all my sons, so he can take my throne," Edward said solemnly. "I have to pass the death sentence."

Edward then began to cry and Charlotte immediately took him into her arms to comfort him, as if she were comforting one of their sons. One of the sons George was apparently plotting to murder, a voice whispered in her mind.

"It's okay," she murmured as she rocked him. "This can be fixed. It's okay."

"How can this be fixed?" Edward asked sharply through his sobs.

"You can imprison him instead," she murmured, fighting against every maternal instinct that was screaming for retribution. "Let him live the remaining of his life on the Tower and we can raise Teddy to be a loyal cousin to Edmund, William and Arthur."

"I can't take the chance," Edward argued. "I can't forgive him again."

"Are you sure of that, Edward?" Charlotte questioned, an edge to her voice, even if a traitorous part of her was glad for it.

"Of course I am sure," he insisted his own anger beginning to flare.

"Even if the child I carry in my womb is a son? If I give you another son, mon cheri, a fourth son, will you be sure then that you can't find it in your heart to forgive your brother?"
       
─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────

Anne turned in the bed, planning to snuggle against Richard, snuggling against him was always a comfort to her. However, her hand encountered an empty bed next to her. She immediately pushed the covers back, and found her slippers and robe, tying it as she went down the corridor, searching for her husband. She was quite surprised to find him in the solar. Silently, she walked over to him and leaned over, her fingers lightly touching her neck.

"You should not be up," Richard murmured.

"Neither should you," Anne replied.

He smiled slightly, as he drew her into his lap. "I could not sleep," he murmured. "I seem to be wrestling with some ghosts of the past tonight."

"Which ghosts?"

Richard shook his head. "My father."

"Your father?" Anne asked softly

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