❝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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Westminster Palace (Courtyard)
A little more than a week later, Edward, Richard, and the rest of the York army returned back to London with vast amounts of gold, yet no one but Edward seemed happy about it.
Charlotte had already climbed off her horse when Elizabeth walked down the steps, a smile on her face as she made her way towards her husband while holding the hand of two of her daughters.
She rolled her eyes, turning away from the duo with an annoyed look on her face.
"Stanley! Open a chest!" Edward shouted out as he rode toward the carriages of gold. "And for you, my Queen, Malmsey Wine. I told King Louis it was your favorite."
While Edward walked away with Elizabeth, hoping to speak to her about what happened in France, Charlotte made her way over to Richard and her sister with an annoyed look on her face.
"He'll do anything to calm her nerves about me, I'm starting to realize," Charlotte complained, speaking in a venomous tone. "I cannot believe him! We went there to take France and all we came back with was gold."
"He thinks he can buy back my honor, but he cannot," Richard confessed, looking to be just as disappointed as Charlotte, if not more. While Charlotte was angry and saddened by Edward's decision, Richard was disappointed in his eldest brother, who he had grown up admiring.
"Burgundy would have supported us," Charlotte admitted, causing Richard to turn to her in shock. "We could've succeeded, but instead, we had to obey Elizabeth Grey."
"Burgundy would have helped England take back France?" Anne asked Charlotte in disbelief.
"We are allies, Annie, by Margaret's marriage," Anne flushed at the reminder. "Charles was laying siege to Neuss, but if we had sent a message, we could have traveled through his territories," Charlotte explained, cursing under her breath. "People like to say I rule through Edward, but why is it that I couldn't even convince him to go through with his own plan to take France?"
"Elizabeth," Richard sighed in defeat. "And I would say the reason for not wanting him to take France wasn't because he had the chance of dying, but because he was planning to put George and then your son in charge of the Regency of France."
"Of course," Charlotte scoffed. "She doesn't like the idea of neither I nor George having any sort of power. If it was up to her, all the titles would go to her family."
"Which is exactly what our father was afraid of," Anne murmured.
"Whatever she asks him to do, he'll do it, just to keep her off his back about me."
"We can see that, Charlotte," Anne confessed, an uneasy look on her face. "While you were away, rumors about his plans to announce a secret marriage between you both began to spread uncontrollably again. Doubtless, she's worried about it. Edward managed to calm her months ago, but for them to start again...she's clinging to the power that she has, because she knows it's only a matter of time before she loses it."
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Elizabeth reached over to the other side of the bed only to find her husband missing, his side of the bed cold to the touch. Her smile quickly faded as she realized Edward had left a while ago.
"Lady Margaret?" Elizabeth called. The twice-widowed woman rushed into the Queen's bedchamber.
"Your Grace," she curtsied low.
"Where is the King?"
"He left late last night. He sent the Lady Marie to tell us we were needed in your chambers."
"Marie?" Elizabeth asked quietly, needing the confirmation.
"Yes, Your Grace," Elizabeth merely nodded and allowed the woman to help her out of bed. Marie was Charlotte's lady, had been since Charlotte was a girl. Edward had left her to go to the whore's bed last night.
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"Thank you, Lord Stanley. Enjoy the rest of the wedding," Edward said, standing up and nodding in acknowledgement of the bows and curtsies, deciding that he would retire early. George and Elizabeth had embarrassed Thomas enough for the day. He would leave him and his new bride to enjoy their wedding.
He quietly slipped through his doors and allowed his grooms to dress him in his nightdress and robe and he went unattended to Charlotte's rooms, remembering the first years of his reign when they would sneak into each other's beds and simply sleep together, reveling in the feeling of each other's arms.
"You weren't going to tell me, were you?" Charlotte asked as soon as he entered, brushing away his offer at a kiss and offering him her check instead, the hurt clear in her voice.
"What are you talking about?"
"You seriously married your stepson, the son of a baron, to one of the wealthiest heiress in all of England? A girl with blood as old as my own? You married your stepson to my cousin without even giving me a warning?" Charlotte screamed, rising up from her chair in anger and stared at him, waiting for an explanation. She had rested for the majority of the day, as she had been doing for the past month, as the baby grew in her womb. This pregnancy had been tiring her more than the others and she hoped it was not an omen for her labor. When she woke up, Aimee told her that there was noise coming from the Great Hall and when she went to examine it, she found a wedding feast being held.
"Shh, calm down. Yes, I did, I didn't think it was that big of a deal!" Edward soothed, gently placing his hand on her swollen belly.
"Edward! Don't you see? You are alienating all of the old nobility. His father died fighting for my uncle and you are rewarding him with a young, wealthy heiress. It does not send a good message."
"Calm yourself, it's not good for the baby," Edward replied, ignoring her words as he rubbed her shoulders in an attempt to soothe her.
Charlotte winced, clutching her stomach and dropping to the floor, her hands going to her skirts and eyes widening as she saw blood. There was too much blood for it to be anything other than a miscarriage.
"Oh God, somebody fetch the physician!" Edward commanded, settling Charlotte onto a chair, twirling her hair around his fingers soothingly.
If she lost the baby, he would never forgive himself.
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The marriage between Thomas Grey, Marquess of Dorset and Cecily Bonville historically took place in September 1474, not 1475 or 1476 as the show represented.
