𝐸𝑑𝑔𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝐷𝑒𝑠𝑖𝑟𝑒 || 𝑇𝐻𝐸 𝑊𝐻𝐼𝑇𝐸 𝑄𝑈𝐸𝐸𝑁

𝐶ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝐿𝑋𝑉𝐼𝐼𝐼

~Childbed Fever~

The Duchess of Gloucester had been in the grip of fever for over a week when the royal trumpets blared at the gates of Middleham castle, announcing the arrival of the Queen.

Elizabeth Woodville rode into the courtyard with a flurry of guards behind her, each bearing a royal standard. She was surprised to see the amount of commoners that filled the courtyard and her eyes widened at the sight.

As soon as news of Eleanor's illness had gotten out into the streets, the North had been in uproar, with hundreds flocking to middleham from across the Gloucester's lands to pay homage to her. Their numbers and determination for their prayers to make their beloved Duchess well had moved Richard to tears more than a dozen times.

Their loyalty to her and he was strong, something Elizabeth had not realised, strengthened further by their distribution of the French wealth a year prior.

That had certainly won them eternal love from the people, though a permanent resentment from the King and Queen.

Well, Elizabeth at least. Edward had gotten over it after about a week!

She resented how her sister had managed to win over the people, how she had won their hearts and they loved Eleanor as if she were their Queen and not her. 'She is getting too powerful' she thought.

Elizabeth's cold eyes swept across the servants and peasants that curtsied to her as she dismounted before she walked inside, intent on finding her sister.

She and Edward had been on royal progress around the country when news of the Duchess' illness had reached them and she had immediately set out to the North. It had taken her four days to reach Middleham and she hoped it was not too late. Surely if it was black banners would be lining the castle walls? Someone would be there to tell her as she arrived.

The only person she encountered as she stalked along the deserted halls was Francis, his footsteps the only thing breaking the eerie silence.
"Your grace" he greeted, almost falling into a startled bow, rather alarmed by the appearance of the blonde woman that stared at him with suspicion.

He knew little of what had transpired between she and Eleanor, only that they were more than at odds with one another and he was surprised, to say the least, that Elizabeth had appeared.

She nodded her head in a cold greeting before removing her gloves, clasping them tightly in her fists.

"Where is my sister?" She demanded and Francis turned around, walking down the hallway, leaving the Queen to follow. Elizabeth huffed a little as she did so. As they walked through the great hall she suddenly stopped, an icy glare settling on her face as she saw George sitting in a chair by the fire.

He was almost hunched over, a goblet of wine clasped tightly in his hands, though it was full to the brim. He had not drunk a drop for once. Almost as if he could sense her presence, the abhorrence that practically radiated from her each time she encountered him, he looked up sharply.