❝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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Ludlow Castle, Wales November 1481
It's been three weeks since Kathryn's birth and Edmund's pretty sure he's only gotten about two hours of sleep in all that time. He doesn't remember any of his siblings being this loud when they were babies. Like clockwork he hears stirring from the nursery — and then a babe's cries.
He stands, deciding to let Megan sleep tonight since she'd been the one to wake up the day before. As he walks towards the door, he feels the exhaustion drop away.
The door is ajar, exactly as the nursemaid left it an hour ago; the room is dim and dark, despite the flickering lights from the candles in wall sconces spaced at different intervals. Light plays off of Kathryn's squirming form, her auburn fuzz glowing slightly in the candle's flames. She's still so small, so delicate — but she screams loud enough to wake the dead.
"Shh," he whispers, picking her up gingerly and trying to bounce her carefully, the way his mother showed him — but he's afraid he'll drop her so he stops. "We don't want to wake up your mother, do we? That would be-" he barely stifles a yawn. "That would be extremely unpleasant." Kathryn's crying subsides, as it always does when someone holds her — but he knows as soon as he puts her back down she'll start screaming again. "There we go. That's a good girl."
He takes a seat in the rocking chair in the corner of the room. "You're a wild one — but I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, considering who your grandmother is. But don't tell her I said that. She's amazing."
Kathryn blinks up at him with the utmost focus and concentration.
"And I love you too, even though you do have a nasty habit of crying all night. But, apart from that, you are perfect."
Kathryn still looks up at him, and the expression on her face makes him fight to contain his laughter.
"Someday, something like this will all be yours — a castle, a country...the world. Hopefully it's better than it was when I was your age. It's not perfect, of course. It never will be. But it's getting better. Sometimes, that's the best we can hope for."
Kathryn sneezes and her eyelids flutter — he inwardly breathes a sigh of relief because he knows that means she's ready to sleep. When they close and then stay that way he holds her for a minute longer, just to be sure, before he gently places her back in her crib. "I love you, Kathryn."
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1482
By the time they arrived at Westminster, it was already becoming dusk. There were only a few members of the court there to greet them. Charlotte stood in front of the crowd, wearing the Queen's jewels as though she wanted to remind Elizabeth of her stolen status.
Elizabeth could see the frown on her third daughter's face and quickly grabbed her hand as she curtsied to Charlotte just in case Cecily chose to snub Charlotte in front of everyone. The Rivers woman may not view Charlotte as the true queen and it may have been a blow to her pride to be submissive to a woman who was below her in rank, but she did not want to cause trouble for herself or her children by being rude, especially so publicly. Thankfully her children followed her example, even if Cecily did so reluctantly.
"Lady Elizabeth, I am pleased to welcome you and your children back to court. I cannot thank you enough for taking care of my husband's children for the past few months," Charlotte said gratefully, tactfully ignoring that those children had been born of a long, public affair between Elizabeth and her husband. "Let me show you and your children to your rooms. We did some renovating, but their new rooms are near to my own children's rooms and to your own new rooms. I hope you find them to your liking."
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Mary rode as fast as she could through the field. She smiled widely, seeing as though it was already obvious that she was going to win against Lizzie and Lily, who were both still far behind her. She had, after all, always been the better horsewoman between the three.
She laughed loudly, feeling victorious while Lizzie looked beyond angered.
Where Elizabeth stood with Edward and Charlotte, she smiled. "I'm glad they get along despite everything," she commented and Edward smiled slightly. "It would have been so easy for our children to resent yours, for your children to lord over mine their new status, but they seem to have more sense."
In the fields, Mary continued to ride as fast as she could, paying no mind to the fact that Lizzie was beginning to catch up to her.
Mary's horse suddenly tripped, causing her to fall to the ground, groaning in agony.
Charlotte watched the scene occur, her eyes widening in horror. A loud cry escaped her lips and she wasted no time running forward. "Mary!" She screamed out, Elizabeth, Edward, and Edmund running alongside her and towards the injured former princess.
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Elizabeth stood behind Edward and his wife as he whispered softly into their daughter's ear, his hand clasped tightly in Charlotte's.
She didn't know what she was saying and she doubted she would be allowed to know. At that moment, she didn't care. Her daughter was dead. Her little girl. Her little princess, her lady from the time she was three. She felt as though someone had ripped her heart from her body and all that was left was an empty hole. It hurt more than losing their baby son.
Snip.
Elizabeth looked up and saw that Edward had cut off a lock of their daughter's fair hair.
Elizabeth approached her daughter when Edward and Charlotte stepped back. Almost the moment that they reached their children, Edward fell into Charlotte's arms as she struggled to hold his larger frame up and soothed him with senseless words.
Elizabeth closed her eyes and then returned her focus onto her daughter.
Mary was the most like her out of all her daughters. While Lizzie took most after her in appearance, it was Mary who was the most like Elizabeth herself. Lizzie had always had a wild side she failed to understand and to her chagrin, it had been Cecily Neville and Charlotte the ones who succeeded in tempering it. Mary was fierce on a horse, but all her other interests were much more ladylike. In Mary, she saw a younger version of herself.
Mary looked so peaceful upon the altar. Her blonde hair was loose and had rose petals placed about her hair and in her hands. Her eyes were closed and Elizabeth could almost believe she was sleeping. But she would never wake up.
