𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖐𝖎𝖓𝖌
❛ i will not permit you to act a
heathen, your highness.
i am not a temporary accessory. ❜
━━ IN WHICH a runaway princess finds love in the the heart of france's rival country: england
MOVIE; the k...
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𝐇𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐘 𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐍 𝐒𝐄𝐓, 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐃𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐒 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐁𝐔𝐒𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐀𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐑 𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐏. It has been just about three weeks since Liz departed with her guards to return to her home in France.
The siege on Harfleur has yet to be successful and Henry still has men telling him the best course of action would be to storm the castle rather than continue the slow siege. Henry doesn't see the need to waste the lives of his men when he could save their lives by continuing the siege.
The night begins to crawl in as he sits there, his eyes locked on the horizon. Somewhere out there Liz is traveling with nothin but a small wagon and two guards. He wishes he could have sent someone after them to keep a close eye on her, but he knows she wouldn't have allowed it.
Deny as she may, Liz's pride can often overcome her senses. He sighs heavily, his eyes falling shut. He remembers the day he left and the stupid words that tumbled from his mouth in his desperate attempt to get her to stay.
He still cannot believe he proposed to her in the middle of a military camp while preparing to lead an attack on her people. He has not stopped kicking himself for that quite yet.
He sighs, his head rolling back as his eyes shut. He only got a kiss from her that day and with that kiss he realized the one thing he truly loved more than anything in this world was leaving him, possibly forever.
His throat becomes tight as he stands up and retreats into his tent. His eyes fall to the small writing desk next to his bed, a stack of letters sitting in the center. Each one has Liz's name written across the front and each holds a letter detailing everything that's been going on with him.
He started to write a letter almost daily, but that wasted too much paper and he couldn't afford to continue. So now he resorts to writing a letter once a week. He doesn't know where to send them, so he's going to hold onto them until the day she's back in his arms.
He collapses onto his bed, curling into a ball as he feels a terrible but familiar pain in his stomach. Liz leaving has caused him pain, more than just emotional pain, physical pain. He can't describe it.
He sits up and moves to the edge of the bed, gripping it tightly. Her face dances in his vision, her beautiful smile causing his eyes to flutter shut as a sad smile crosses his face. Those nights he spent with her on the ship were the most intimate and meaningful nights of his life.
Most were spent in a tangled web of limbs beneath the sheets, but there were a few where they wanted to do nothing but lay in each others' arms and talk. Liz confessed her guilty feelings for what happened to Perceval and Tristan and Henry listened.
