𝐶ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝐿𝑋𝑋𝑋𝐼𝐼𝐼

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~Of my Heart~

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~Of my Heart~

July 6th 1483...

On the twentieth of June criers had been sent out onto the city streets and to the furthest corners of the land, announcing the illegitimacy of the late King Edward's marriage to the Woodville woman.

There were murmurs but no rebellion.

On the twenty third of June the royal council had come to the great hall of Westminster Palace and knelt at Richard's feet, offering him the crown.

He had accepted.

On the twenty fifth of June, a letter had come, a simple scrap of parchment from the eldest of the Princes in the tower, addressed to Eleanor.

Why have you done this? What did I do wrong?

Were the tear-smudged words scrawled onto the page and Eleanor wept to see them, hugging her knees to her chest on her bed while she crumpled the paper in her hand. 'I'm sorry, Edward' she thought as she cried "I'm sorry" she whispered.

Now it was the sixth of July and Eleanor Woodville, Duchess of Gloucester, soon to be the Queen of England stood before her mirror in her chamber.

It did not feel right.

Even in the days prior when she had selected the meals for the coronation feast, chosen the colour of the royal carpet that was to be lain along the road to Westminster, she had felt as if she were in a trance.

It was if she were looking on from a different body and mind. It was not her that made these decisions. It was not her for whom these decisions were made, and yet, at the back of her mind she knew it was. That day was to be her coronation and by the time the sun had set she would wear the Queen's crown.

It did not feel right.

The windows were thrown open to let in the golden rays of light that summer day had brought, a gentle breeze (that carried the cheers of the amassing crowds with it) rustling the velvet curtains as almost a dozen ladies fussed and rushed around her.

Eleanor was tempted to swat them all away and send them from her presence for she found she could not bear to be poked and prodded as if she were a child's doll, in fact that was what she felt like! A doll to be dressed up and paraded in front of friends for all to see!

But she knew one thing, unlike a doll she would not allow herself to be played with! She knew who her enemies were and she knew who her friends were, though she found it rather sad she could not trustingly gain any more of the latter. She looked around the women, her eyes sweeping over the face of each one. How many of them would not vie for her attention or for her friendship now that she was to be Queen?

𝐸𝑑𝑔𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝐷𝑒𝑠𝑖𝑟𝑒 || 𝑇𝐻𝐸 𝑊𝐻𝐼𝑇𝐸 𝑄𝑈𝐸𝐸𝑁Where stories live. Discover now