The Tower of London, London, England, Autumn 1469

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In the coming days that turn into weeks and eventually turn into months, nothing gets better. Jasper and John Neville managed to escape from up north, having been loosely guarded due to most of Warwicks attentions being toward my husband. I am both relieved for and envious at Claire and Margaret as they are able to embrace their husbands and their husbands able to greet their children. I have refused to send mine away just yet and Jacquetta Will not go unless we come with her and so we stay hold up in London while I write to loyal lords who escaped the battlefield, Essex, Arundel, Kent, and to the young and new Earl of Pembroke, and remind them of their duty to their king and the coronation vows that they made to us. Do they honestly want to Warwick in charge of the government? We are about to find out.

Meanwhile I am left to see two London's defenses and pray that Margaret of Anjou doesn't take this time of weakness where we are all pledging to bite each other's heads off to try and swoop in and steal the capital away. Surprisingly, these fears take me to a man that I have not thought about in a long while. They take me to my uncle Henry.

Perhaps I was not always the niece I should've been to him. He paid very little attention to me when I was in his care and intern I never really bothered to form a close attachment to him, not even when he made me his heir for a short time. After the birth of his son I was left in the care of his wife and he barely ever asked about me. But still, he was my great uncle by blood, and some would say that I have sinned against God and my family to have helped my husband and his family dethrone him. Everyone with common sense knows that I did not do this out of my own ambition, but keep my children alive and to restore the realm to good governance, but I don't think Margaret of Anjou would listen to that argument. 

Every night, as we share quarters now that I live within the confines of the tower, I go over to my uncle Henry's apartments and I make sure that his upkeep is seen two. He has his own private priest and he takes comfort in religion. I start to think he would be a better monks than he ever would have been a king. Perhaps it is unfortunate that his father did not live long enough to have more children and that he was the first born son. However, seeing my great uncle safe and sound in the tower, still completely oblivious as a child to what is going on, makes me think of my Edward more and how much more of a precarious situation he must be in.

"There is no word," Jacquetta tells me one night as I walk through the hallways, back from another nightly check on the upkeep of my great uncle. 

"Richard and Anthony have road north to gather support for Edward and they may still meet the same fate as John and Uncle Richard," I access nervously

"Please Eliza, don't even say that!"

"I cannot help it! And I know you cannot either! Mad King Henry is safe and in comfort but what are they doing to my Edward? What are they doing to him right now Jacquetta? What are they doing to him right now as I stand? I cannot do this, I need him back with me. I'm scared!" 

"Shh," Jacquetta tells me as she pulls me into a comforting hug.

After a while I have stopped crying and shaking with sobs and she lets go of me. I use this time to cool down. Crying will not save Edward. Grief will not deter Warwick. I have to think reasonably. I have to find us a way out of here.

Suddenly, like a bolt of thunder striking a tree, I have an idea. I start running to my apartments in the tower, Jacquetta following behind me yelling, "Eliza, wait! Where are you going?"

As I run into my apartments I sit down at my desk which I have requested brought from Westminster and I take out a piece of parchment. I quickly dip one of the quills into an ink stand that I had brought and I began writing furiously. Jacquetta dan's in front of me, unsure of what I am doing.

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