- 𝐹𝑜𝑟𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑚𝑎𝑦 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑟𝑒𝑖𝑔𝑛 -
It's the year 1464 and Eleanor Woodville lives at Grafton Manor as one of the younger daughters of Jacquetta and Sir Richard Woodville. At 11 years old, her worries are little and her joys great but her o...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
~Our Elizabeth~
14th of February 1472....
A pain filled scream tore from Eleanor's throat as she squeezed Marie and Elizabeth's hands, almost crushing them in her iron, desperate grip. She had been in labour for almost a day now, waking in the middle of the night, weeping (much to Richard's alarm).
He had instantly jumped from their bed once he realised what was happening and had woken virtually the entire palace in his panic. Edward had had to shut him in the King's rooms for a while to calm him down.
At first it had been Anais and Marie that had tended to Eleanor, holding her hand and mopping her brow while she groaned and cried miserably, clutching at her belly, but now Elizabeth and Jacquetta had taken over.
Marie and Anais were still present, as was a midwife, yet the younger of the pair was now sitting in a chair, a look of pure horror on her face which had refused to leave her as soon as her eyes sighted blood. She sat by the window, torn between trying not to cry from fear and the need to help her beloved Duchess.
Marie, on the other hand, was dashing in and out fetching linen and hot water on the orders of none other than Margaret Beaufort! Lady Stafford's arrival had stunned the entire court, let alone those closest to the Duchess, and they had been shocked further when Eleanor had held out a hand to Margaret and managed a small smile of welcome that the other woman returned.
Margaret had then spent the past twelve hours rushing around and taking care of Eleanor to the best of her ability, resuming the duties of Jacquetta and any other when they felt the need for a slight rest. Now, she dipped another cloth in the cold water she had ordered and leant over the Queen to mop Eleanor's brow, murmuring words of comfort to her, while Elizabeth glanced curiously at her, visible confusion on her face.
Her attention was quickly diverted, however, when her sister began to push, tears flooding down her face, her complexion almost as red as her hair from pain and exhaustion. "I can't do it!" Eleanor cried desperately, looking at her Mother who squeezed her hand, nodding in understanding "and I can't lose you! I won't lose you, mother!"
"What does she mean?" Elizabeth questioned, alarmed by her little sister's words as the midwife ordered for the nineteen year old to push. "Nothing! Nothing!" Jacquetta hurriedly replied with a smile "she is just a little tired is all!"
"A little?!" Eleanor repeated indignantly as she tried to push again, screaming once more as she did so "I think I might die!" "Not on my vatch!" Anais suddenly cried, springing from her chair and running to Marie, searching for anything she could do to help.
