The Last York Prince [AU]

Aunt Cecily

(Richard must figure out what his mother had given to him on her deathbed. The moment of truth, ladies and gentlemen!

A/N: I don't think I'll include Edmund de la Pole even I know he's one of the people to go against Tudor

A/N 2: I know the pic is from Interlude in Prague, which is a few centuries after Tudors, but I think it's suits the chapter since our Richard's signature colour is black/dark colour)

LATE FEBRUARY 1503

The soon to be 18 years old Richard spotted his aunt Cecily at the garden. He had asked Robyn to pass a note to his aunt so they can 'meet' in the garden during his morning walk.

Richard bowed before his aunt, who hugged him in return. "You've grown. Last I saw you, you were still swaddled and crying", she gave a sad smile.

"I was raised well..., by Jasper Tudor".

"I know. Lizzie and I would write letters and she would share to me of your progress. I'm so happy to finally meet you".

Richard offered his arm and Cecily took it. They walked for a while towards the fountain. Both looked around to make sure they were alone. Cecily noticed the arm she was holding, Richard had something in his clenched fist.

"Mother gave me something. She kept repeating, 'Find Cecily'. I assumed you knew what this is", Richard unclenched his fist and Cecily knew what it was.

"Are you ready to accept what it is?".

"What is it?".

"The truth, nephew".

"What truth?".

"Who you are".

"I've been lied to of who I am. No more lies, lady aunt. If it's a lie, then I do not wish to know".

"What did they say about you?".

"I'm mother's bastard. My father used her to shame Tudor".

"Go back to Bedford. Go to the stream nearby. There's a black rock, underneath it is a ring I buried, you can't miss it".

"Just tell me what's in it", Cecily could hear his voice breaking, but Richard composed himself.

"Go find it, Richard. You will know", said Cecily.

She let his arm go. Both curtsied each other and Cecily left Richard to stand in the middle of the garden as snow began to fall.

Meg found her brother on his knees, in the middle of his rose bushes out during snow, crying. She ran to his side.

"Richie! Come inside! You'll catch a cold!", she tugged him.

Richie wiped his tears, suddenly shivered. He got up and ran back inside with Meg.

Meg brought him back to Freja, who helped to dry them both. Meg saw Richard was still clutching something in his hand and refused to let it go, even when Freja asked for it. Meg saw him tying it on his pendant. She was often curious about that pendant, but mother made her swear to never ask about it.

"Richie..., I saw lady mother gave you something. She made me swear to never ask you about the pendant you're wearing, but I ask you now, what did she give you?".

Freja shook her head. "Meg, your brother is in distressed. Please, let him rest".

"Sister, I need to know. People said you're not a bastard, but mother swore you are. Tell me that's not what I think it is".

"And if it is?", Richard spoke finally, voice hoarse, as he sat by the fire, eyes starring into the flames.

"Richie...", Meg knelt by his side.

"Are you afraid I'll rob you of your inheritance? Are you afraid if I'm king, then you will lose everything?".

"No! It's just...", Meg trying to find a reason.

"I'm no usurper, Margaret. How could you think that of me?", Richard's cold blue eyes met hers and Meg was terrified at her brother's expression.

William's cry broke the tension and silence. Richard got up and sat by his son's crib, rocking it back and forth gently; his back turned, not wanting to speak anymore.

She had known him as someone who was happy, carefree and kind. His smile often brighter than the sun itself, but now, his expression was the opposite. His eyes bore anger and hurt and that scared her a lot. She knew the enmity between Tudor and York and she knew the only reason the Yorks were at bay because of her brother.

Freja gently grabbed Meg by the shoulders to take her away from Richard. She escorted the princess back to her room.

"I've never seen my brother like that".

"He's been hurt, Meg. Many times now. I usually let him cool down, but please, do not ask anymore of who he is. He hates it. He hates to think people only see him just because of his father. When he's ready, he will tell us", Freja spoke gently.

"They said lady mother and her mother were witches. I often heard my lady grandmother called them that when I was young".

"We do not know that for sure, Meg. Get some rest, try not to think of that anymore".

"You think mother told everyone he was a bastard, but...".

"Enough, Meg! We mustn't speak of it. Do you wish to see my husband dead?", Freja sternly told her off.

Meg shook his head. Freja sighed and calmed herself. "Whatever you mother did, she did it out of love. She loved your brother. When you become a mother, you will understand. When the time comes, your brother will tell you".

"Could you tell him I'm sorry? That I did not mean to hurt him?".

Freja smiled and kissed her forehead. "Rest, princess", she said before leaving.

As she walked back to her room, Freja bumped into Stafford outside her room. She smiled, despite her tears.

"May I help you, cousin?", she asked.

"Is he alright to receive me?", he asked back.

Freja shook her head. "He is very much upset still. Perhaps, you could come back tomorrow?".

"How are you, cousin?", he looked very concerned.

Freja smiled and nodded her head. "I will be fine. I have to, for my husband and my son".

"You can tell me anything, I can help".

Freja placed her hand on his cheek, his beard was warm under the cold weather. "You are very sweet, my dear Stafford. Thank you".

Stafford kissed her hand and made sure she went in before he left.