❝you think Achilles was of impressive descent?
touch me one more time❞
The one where King Edward IV is captivated by Charlotte Neville and their love has far-reaching consequences. For Charlotte had a place in Edward's heart no one could tear her fr...
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February 1478
This one lives.
That is enough to fill Charlotte with joy: that her babe lives. She has hoped and prayed for so long, but she was never able to fully shake the fear and doubt that increased each time.
She still remembered the pain and the blood from when she lost her last babe. She had thought she would have no more children after that loss, so painful it had been.
There had been the time earlier the year before when she thought that she might be with child again — but no sooner had she mentioned it to Anne on a letter than the blood came. It is likely enough that she was merely late, but she will never be certain, and it is still a painful perhaps.
And then she has been so frightened that this one would not live either. After the last time, she was afraid to hope too soon, and she told no one at all about the absence of her blood until it had been missing for four months — until she'd shamefully used it as a bargaining chip against Edward regarding George, who even now lingers in the Tower, awaiting his sentence.
"You should have said something earlier, my lady," Hatteclyffe told her after being summoned, and she nodded meekly, afraid that everything would be ruined yet again, and this time — through her own foolishness.
The feelings of weakness and dizziness didn't go away, and she spent most of her time over the following months in bed, following the physician's instructions to the letter, begging the Virgin to bring this babe into the world safely. And the birth was so painful that there were moments when she was sure that one or the other of them would never survive it, and only Edward's hands holding hers kept her going on. But, what does all that worry matter now when this one lives?
"Let me, let me," she begs, reaching out her arms as soon as the babe is in the world, as soon as she hears the cry that means life. And when she finally holds her youngest child, Charlotte thinks that she might die of joy.
That the babe lives would be enough, but it seems that the Virgin has decided to bring her many blessings together, as if to make up for lost time.
For her daughter is healthy and strong and beautiful and perfect; she can imagine no more perfect babe. She looks like Edward already, hazel eyes and caramel hair with his nose and cheeks.
"Look at her," she tells Edward, who sits beside her on the bed. "Look at her, mon cheri, look at her, isn't she perfect? Isn't she perfect?"
"She is," Edward says, his cheek resting against hers as he leans closer to look at their babe, their babe who is alive.
─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────
Charlotte sighed softly, turning in the bed. She was half awake, half asleep, as she turned she'd expected to find Edward next to her. But his side of the bed was empty. Again. She knew he'd had so many sleepless nights in the past few weeks. First she had assumed it was for the same reasons as her, anxiousness and nerves over her pregnancy. Yet, she had delivered and the past few days had seen no change in his state. There was too much weighing on his mind. To her, it seemed there was little she could do. Oh, she was there with him, she made sure of that. She honestly didn't want to leave him alone too much right now. She wanted him to know he had her support.
