NOT ABOUT ANGELS | THE WHITE QUEEN

Chapter V

Charlotte walked through a path in the woods, carrying a basket filled with herbs and flowers she'd been picking up. Edward walked beside her, some of his guards following them a ways behind on horseback.

"Are they beautiful?" She found herself asking, hoping she did not sound pathetic or anything of the sort. "Bona of Savoy, Magdalena of Valois, Marie de Foix?"

Edward smirked, turning to glance at her. "Are you jealous?"

"Of course not," she scoffed, as if she were insulted, hoping that her anxiousness did not show through her tone. "What do I have to be jealous of?"

"I've never met any of them, nor do I wish to," Edward confessed, meeting her eyes. "I have two choices. France or Burgundy. Bona is the sister of King Louis's queen, so she links me to France and Magdalena is his sister, so it would be an even more direct link. Marie is more complicated, since Navarre sometimes allies itself with Spain, who are the French's sworn enemies. But fact remains, I have to choose between France and Burgundy. I can't make peace with both since they're natural enemies."

"If I were you, I'd side with France," Charlotte spoke up after a few moments of silence, looking up at him. "Burgundy surrounds France slightly, but they're a smaller country, divided into two territories. Phillip the Good and Louis XI are enemies, so as you said, you can't ally with both. But France has much more soldiers you could call upon to help in case of another Lancastrian uprising. It may be that you are forced to give up your ancestral right to France, but I doubt Louis would make you give up the territories as well. And, as I said, they can field more men than Burgundy and since Margaret of Anjou is French, they might rally to her cause and try to crown her son. Best to give them another French Queen and another half-French future king of England. It would also reinforce the claim of the Plantagenets to the French throne. Isabella of France and Catherine of Valois already give us a legitimate claim, though my grandmother's claim is now nonexistent since it was passed down to my mother and uncle and not to you. Having another strand of French blood can't hurt."

Edward stared at her, shocked. He hadn't expected to receive political advice from her. He had believed Warwick kept his daughters away from the harsher aspects of court life, as most men did. In the North, Charlotte mostly stayed inside the walls, embroidering and attending her lessons. He would never have expected her lessons included history and politics as his did. It was rare for a man to teach his daughters as he would teach his sons, after all.

At the same time, Charlotte's eyes widened as she realized what she had done. Her father had taught her at his knee when she was small, seeing as she was his firstborn and each year, the chances for a son diminished. Isabel and Anne would inherit the Despenser and Beauchamp fortune, and it was likely that one of them — most likely, Isabel — would inherit the Warwick title since it was their mother's after all. But she was the heiress to the lands her father had inherited and he wanted her to have the education other heirs would have as well. Yet, they kept it all a secret, knowing most men would not like a wife who knew more than sitting still and looking pretty and in the end, that was her purpose in her father's eyes, she knew. She was meant to get a rich husband, increase the family fortunes and pass them down to her son who would, when the time came, be educated at her father's states.

"Forgive me," she said quietly, looking down. "I spoke of things I should not have."

Edward shook his head and cupped her chin, making her meet his gaze. "Never apologize for speaking your mind. I want you to always speak freely with me. I want us to always be true to one another," he paused. "And I cannot deny you have a point about allying with Louis."

"Listen to your advisors," she said, a smile on her face. "And I don't mean just my father. Listen to all the men you have chosen to surround yourself with."

─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────

Charlotte laughed, holding out her hand for her arrow as Edmund Plantagenet held it tantalizingly out of her reach.

"Edmund, please, just give it back. I can't afford to lose it," she chuckled, her cheeks flushed. He raised a disbelieving eyebrow.

"You, an Earl's daughter, the daughter of perhaps the richest noble in the country, can't afford to lose a single arrow?" Edmund snorted, his eyes bright. "I highly doubt that."

Charlotte sighed, reaching for it once more and failing to grab it. "Regardless, you took it without my permission. Give it back!"

"I don't think so. Not unless you kiss me."

"Ed!" Charlotte jumped to catch hold of the arrow, for once not caring what she looked like. Edmund pulled away, shaking his head.

"Kiss me."

"If you give my arrow back."

"When did ladies like you become so demanding?"

"Around the same time knights like you became so ungentlemanly as to start distressing us ladies," Charlotte quipped back, eyes shining at the easy, familiar banter. Edmund sighed.

"Clever," he conceded, handing her her arrow.

Charlotte shrugged, "I learned from the best," with that, she turned away.

"Hang on!" Edmund protested, "What about my kiss?"

Charlotte blinked mischievously at him over her shoulder, "Since you made me work for my prize, I shall make you work for yours."

Without waiting for her words to sink in, she took off, lifting her skirts high with one hand. Roaring with laughter, Edmund followed, surprised, as always, at how fast she actually was.

It was only once they reached the side door of the castle that she slowed enough to let him catch her waist and pull her back to him for a kiss. A kiss she melted into, one that seemed to last forever and yet was broken all too soon as she tugged away from him, forcing him to let her go.

Charlotte tossed and turned in her bed, staring at the canopy, trying to fall asleep, but her mind continued to wander towards both brothers. Edward, who that night, had escorted her back to her rooms and pressed a chaste kiss to her lips before leaving. He heart clenched at the thought.

He was handsome and charming and everything she wanted in a man, in a husband. His curls were rich and complimented his green eyes beautifully. He was muscled too and she often felt her heart race when she felt their skin brush against one another.

God, she wanted him. She wanted him like she'd been taught she should not want any man. To seek pleasure, even in the marriage bed, was forbidden and she was a sinner for having such lustful thoughts.

Charlotte covered her face in embarrassment. It was so very wrong to think of Edward in such a way. He was all but engaged already. Once, it had been her who had been all but engaged to his own brother. She mourned him still, they both did.

And that was exactly why this game of theirs has to stop. She enjoyed his company, perhaps too much. As she'd predicted, a kiss with Edward was never just a kiss and now, there was an invisible, magnetic attraction between them. She hated it. She hated herself for hating it, when it felt so very good. She was supposed to be planning her wedding, instead she'd basically been widowed before becoming a wife and instead of mourning as she should be doing, she was flirting with his brother. It had to stop. It was highly inappropriate.

Yet, a voice whispered in her mind, that does not seem to stop him from flirting with you.

It didn't, it was true. He flirted shamelessly with her and she'd been weakening these past few weeks. She responded now, even if she knew it could go no further. Such a thing could not and would not be. It would be the scandal of Europe. A newly-crowned King abandoning the French princess he was pledged to marry in order to marry the daughter of the man that raised him. It could not be.

Yet...