❝you think Achilles was of impressive descent?
touch me one more time❞
The one where King Edward IV is captivated by Charlotte Neville and their love has far-reaching consequences. For Charlotte had a place in Edward's heart no one could tear her fr...
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October 1479
Edmund has hardly been able to concentrate all morning. His future wife is supposed to arrive in a matter of hours and he's not sure he's ready. His parents had told him about his engagement, about how he would marry a Fitzgerald Kildare of Ireland rather than a princess from the continent to further legitimize the York rule and soon it would be time to meet the girl, Margaret — though apparently, she preferred being called Megan.
"I can't imagine she'll be much to look at," Dickon says from the sidelines as Edmund and William spar.
"Who knows? The old Lord was ugly for sure, but apparently her mother was beautiful," William says, blocking a blow.
"Redheads are supposedly crazy," Dickon laughs. "Watch out for that one!"
Edmund hardly hears the conversation. He's too busy thinking about their arrival. His future will arrive in a matter of hours and he doesn't even know if she's pretty or not. Many scenarios are running through his head, both good and bad. But a sharp blow from the flat of his brother's sword drags him from his nervous thoughts.
"You're thinking too much."
"Can you blame me?" Edmund asks, parrying a strike.
"No. Just hope for the worst and everything else will seem better no matter what happens."
Maybe William is on to something. Maybe all he had to do was picture the worst in his head. For all he knows, she's expecting the worst too. What if he is the worst she could expect? He tries to push his thoughts down, steadying his nerves as he continues sparring. Just a few short hours and he'll get all his questions answered.
─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────
Charlotte woke gingerly, blinking the sleep out of her eyes as the sun caressed her skin and teased her out of her sleep.
"Good," she murmured inwardly, as she tested her body mentally, "I don't feel too bad this morning. Perhaps I will be able to greet the Irish party after all."
No sooner had she sat up, however, than the world around her started to spin.
"Oh!" She groaned, before lurching to one side and retching as though her life depended upon it.
"Charlotte!" Marie burst into the room in time to sweep her dark hair back from her face and kneel up on the bed behind her, rubbing her back.
"Please let me send for the physicians," the younger woman begged once Charlotte's nausea had subsided enough for her to be able to carry on a conversation. "This has gone on long enough. You need to be examined."
"Marie, no. We've been over this. I must simply have eaten something that disagreed with me. There's no need to bother the physicians over something this small."
