❝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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September 1483
Edmund loved to watch his wife prepare for the day, her naked body in their bath, a private little display meant only for him, then the gentle rub of creams into her soft skin.
She would dress slowly for him, a delicious treat, a forbidden glimpse into what would be his later that night.
"I have something for you," he approached her, sitting at her dressing table, and met her eyes through the mirror.
Megan smiled mischievously. "Have you brought me strawberry bread? Or perhaps more green silk?"
"No, something else, I had it made for when the time came," he stroked along the edge of her gown with a finger before drawing her hair from her neck. He laid the locket hiding away in his hand on her dressing table. "Here."
Megan picked it up, curious. He could see the exact moment she realized what he had given. "It's Kat. You made me Kathryn."
It was a miniature portrait he'd had commissioned, the image from his memory of their daughter when she'd been a newborn. "She'll always be with you, and this way you can carry her with you."
"Put it on me, please."
Edmund did as instructed then bent down, delivering open mouthed kisses along her bared flesh. "We should stay here today, there are enough people in the Great Hall, we won't be missed."
"It's your coronation progress, we need to go," she stood and faced him. "I think the absence of the king would be noticed."
Edmund snorted. "The progress can go bugger itself. I'd rather stay here with you."
Megan placed her hands on his chest, stroking. "It's important that we spend time around England," she pleaded. "We have to break the lasts of Lancaster loyalty."
"Later tonight then," he leaned into her, their noses grazing before he kissed her. "Lily is minding Kathryn and Rickon, so we'll have ample time to make our very own prince."
─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────
Knowsley, Lancashire
Margaret knelt before the altar in the chapel at her husband's castle, praying. Stanley entered, looking up at the statue of Jesus while speaking to his wife. "I have selected the men who will join in the attack on the Tower," he informed his wife, who felt uneasy about the whole ordeal, despite it being her idea at first. "I have to know your will."
"My will?" She asked, turning her head, but not rising, her hands clasped in prayer. "My will is God's will."
"If my men break down the door to the Tower, as I plan they should, if they are first in, as I will order them to be, if they open the princes' door and find them alone but for a couple of attendants, is it your will — or indeed God's will — that they catch them up like lost lambs and return them to their mother?" Stanley asked bluntly. "Or are they to slice off their little heads then and there?
