The next morning finds Isabella in Edmunds bed as he holds her to his side. She has been more than willing to sacrifice her body for a chance at the grand prize in the end game! And after bedding Edmund, now is the time to go for that prize.
Isabella's words are as delicate and precise as the threads of a spider's web, each one spun with intention and grace. She lay in Edmund's arms, her head resting just below his shoulder, her voice a melodic whisper in the quiet of the chamber.
"Edmund, my brave and noble knight," she began, her words painting him as a hero in his own right. "Within you lies such a strength that sets you apart, a majesty that I have been fortunate enough to enjoy."
Edmund's chest swelled with the praise, a smile playing across his lips as he held her closer. He was not immune to flattery, and in this instance, Isabella's words were a balm to his pride.
"Isabella, your words honor me more than a hundred jousting victories," he replied, the idea already sprouting wings within his mind.
"But why settle for mere words when the whole kingdom could sing your praises?" Isabella countered, the warmth of post-love glow providing the perfect canvas for her to paint her dreams upon his mind. "Imagine a grand tournament, with Prince Harry's blessing, where knights far and wide come to compete for glory." She moves closer, her breath a whisper against his skin, as she shares a vision of unity and grandeur." Under Harry's banner, the tournament could usher in an era of prosperity and togetherness for all the realm to see. And you, my love, could be the herald of that golden age."
"You think me capable of such feats?" Edmund asked, a hint of genuine surprise and wonder lacing his baritone voice.
"Capable?" Isabella scoffed gently, her finger tracing unseen armor on his skin. "You, my dearest Edmund, were born for it. It is not a question of capability, but rather when you will claim the renown that is due."
Her words, soft and sure, teased out the yearning for admiration he kept close to his heart. The idea of a tournament, where his prowess could be displayed and lauded, was all at once intoxicating.
"You speak with such conviction," Edmund said, the seed of aspiration taking root. "Perhaps I should raise the matter with Prince Harry. After all, who better to sponsor the spectacle than he?"
Isabella nods, a cascade of moonlit hair framing her sly smile. "Precisely, my clever man. You see, the tournament would be about so much more than sport. It unites us, it uplifts us, it binds us to Harry in a common cause for celebration and strength."
Isabella's smile was hidden against his chest, her mission inching toward success. "You would not only bring joy to the people but also cement your legacy, and Harry's, as champions of the realm."
With Isabella's encouragement, the play of shadows and light on the chamber walls seemed to herald the dawning of a new opportunity—one that Edmund felt increasingly eager to explore. And as the sun rose around Levonshire Castle, so too did Edmund's resolve to bring the vision of a grand jousting tournament to Prince Harry, all under Isabella's deft and guiding hand.
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