Violent Delights (Violent Delights Book 1)

Epilogue: "Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale her infinite variety"

This summer I have been married to Edward for nearly twenty years. More than half my life. And once again I'm watching the flowers bloom in the fields beyond Windsor castle, and my belly swell with his child in me. And now the sounds of my childrens' laughter fills these halls. Some of them are grown now. Edward and Ned are in France, our beautiful, clever Ned. They are all special but he will always be my precious first born. And he's off having adventures of his own now with his father. Yes, they're all special. But until now, I did not have a single one like me. Until now they have all favored their father in mind and temper, even my daughters.
"What are you doing inside on such a fine day, Johnny?" I ask, looking down at my sixth born child. But not last, no, I am carrying another at this moment. Edward of course, off to war but his goodbyes left me carrying another child. "It's lovely out, I thought you were going to play knights?"
"No one wanted to play with me," Johnny says, softly, rubbing his face with a fist. He's turning six years old. A fine, healthy boy, born in Ghent, of all places. Edward and I do have our adventures. And my sixth pregnancy was easy as the others, we had sons already but we were glad of another healthy boy. But this boy has always been nothing like his siblings. All of them are lean, pretty like their father. Johnny is and always has been a boar of a child. All of my labors but his were under half a day. But he was thick and healthy which was all that mattered. He still is, fine chubby limbs,  built like one of the mastiffs. He's got my rich dark curls but his father's features and fairer skin. His younger brother, just a year his junior, god help us, also slim and soft, Edmund, he's precious and quiet, shy. Johnny's not shy, he's always been my little charmer. A stocky, happy child whose merry grin can get any of us smiling after our worst days. He looks up at me, beautiful dark eyes and long lashes, "The other children don't like me."
"Is that because you were lying to them?" I ask.
He nods a little bit, still looking at his chess board that he's playing with. He was playing with himself it looks like. Working out of an endgame I taught him.
"You know, I didn't have a lot of friends when I was little either," I say, sitting down across from him, carefully tucking my skirt around my belly.
"I don't care. I'd rather do my lessons but my tutors said to go play. Latin, and math, are more fun," he says, chewing his lip, holding one hand up delicately, wrist bent, a mannerism unique to him.
I truly imagined I'd be doing this with a daughter. But all my daughters share their father's warlike spirit. But this boy, no. He has my mind entirely somehow. It's well he looks like a knight. They won't ever suspect he's a serpent.
"It is more fun, isn't it? That's why I always liked chess. Sixty four squares, simple moves," I say.
He nods, tangling his thick fingers in his dark curls. He's ahead by a couple of years in his lessons, he can read well in French, Latin, and English. I told them to start Greek a month ago. He's already reading full sentences.
"I know it gets lonely. You think you're the only one. And perhaps you are," I say, "It's not easy making friends."
He looks up at me a little bit, "They're boring."
"They are. People are boring sometimes. But you know they don't have to be? They need people like you, and me. They're all—lost. They see things simply. Like pieces on a board, they only know how to move one direction. But us? We can see not only all the pieces, but all the possible different moves we can make, to win the game," I say.
"What's winning the game though?" He frowns, "I'm not king."
"Oh my sweet child, you are better than a king. You are the player. You are the mastermind. The king must be protected. You on the other hand are free to make every single move on the board. To make whatever possible outcome you want," I say.
"Like what?"
"Whatever you want. Money. Power. Titles, though I don't recommend that, it's too exposed. But, whatever you want. You get it. And you keep in the shadows. They can never know just what you are. You must mold them. Guide them. Let them fall in love with you. Be the one they can believe in. People need leaders, but more than that, they need legends. Legends, and fairy tales, stories, these things give them hope. It gives them purpose. So you become their prophet, and their purpose. You show them how they can achieve their dreams then you make their dreams come true. And they'll do anything for you. They are the kings and queens. But us? We are the dream makers. We are the ones who know the tales before they've been written, for we're dictating them. You trade in people's beliefs and hope, your currency is religion and desire. And just like that?" I smile and snap my fingers, "You rule the world."
John looks up at me, smiling too, "Teach me how."
"I will, my son."

The end

Edward III and Philippa were married for forty years, until her death.

Philippa lived to be fifty six, Edward sixty four.

They had thirteen children together, and remained incredibly close their entire lives.

When Philippa died Edward was by her side. Her dying wish was that they be buried together. They were buried in Westminster where their tomb remains to this day.

When Edward died their oldest daughter was by his side.

Edward would take most of France and Scotland in his wars, leaving Philippa regent when he traveled, and at one point she road into battle in Scotland, commanding an army, and winning.

Philippa would control much of the nation's budget, and is responsible for such things as staring England's import/exports and instituting the first minimum wage.

Edward would have no affairs nor cheat on Philippa, nor she him. By all accounts they were completely happy in their marriage.

None of their children would ever threaten their rule, or one another, getting along with their parents and siblings their whole lives with no fallings out--nearly unheard of at the time for royal families.