Crown of Blood | The White Princess

The Tudor Court

Ned, Francis and Lisbet stood back to back, blood drenching them from their helmets to their feet as they hacked and stabbed their way through the Tudor army.

There was no denying it, they had lost, the Tudors had completely decimated the Yorkist army within half an hour and now the Yorks were fighting simply for their lives, all thoughts of the crown almost gone from their minds.

Tudor soldiers surrounded the trio on all sides and they were beginning to give up hope, with Ned absentmindedly preparing to be reunited with his twin, but Lisbet refused to stop fighting. She had made her mother a promise, a promise that she would not die, and she would not break that promise, not now, not for a very long time.

'I shall not surrender' she told herself and proceeded to take on yet another from the never ending line of Tudor opponents. The man wielded a battle axe that glistened with blood as he raised it and let it fall, the metal flashing in the sun.

Lisbet managed to deflect the blow with her sword but felt the sheer force of the hit knock the breath from her lungs and cause her to stumble. Of course the soldier took advantage of this slip in defence and grabbed the Duchess by her bad arm, causing her to cry out and him to grin maliciously.

"York whore" he sneered before plunging his dagger deep into her gut.

At first Lisbet thought he had merely punched her and was confused when he let her go; prepared to lift her sword again. 'Why would he pull me so close just to insult and hit me?' She wondered, but her question was answered all too soon as she became aware of a pulsating pain in her abdomen and instinctively put her hand there only to find it drenched in her own, warm blood a moment later.

A small gasp escaped her lips and her knees gave way, allowing her to fall to the muddied earth with a thump.

All around her sounds of the battle faded...she could hear her name being called...it was Francis, she knew it was, but she could not find the strength to reply as more and more blood gushed from her wound.

Instead, she allowed her head to fall to one side and for a moment all she could see was mud, blood and fallen weapons. But once her mind and eyes focused, she could clearly see the scene before her.

Beside her lay a boy with brown hair, now caked with dirt, and large brown eyes that were glazed over and would never close again.

Lisbet moved to take the dead boy's hand.
Charlie.

༒༒༒

Westminster Palace, 5th September, 1498...

Lisbet felt a harsh pain course though her stomach as she finally found the strength to wake from the deep, 4 day slumber her injuries had cast her into. Slowly opening her eyes, she could see shapes of white and red above her mixed with large patches of green and could not help but smile.