Crown of Blood | The White Princess

Middleham and Magda

"Come, your grace" an old woman said as she moved forward to take Lisbet's hand.
"Mary!" She exclaimed, immediately recognising one of her old nurse maids and drew the woman into a tight embrace, making her chuckle.

"My my, Lisbet!" Mary exclaimed as she lead her indoors "you have grown into a most beautiful white rose!"
"And one that appears to be muddying the perfectly swept floors!"

Mary laughed again and patted the younger woman's shoulder affectionately as they entered the great hall.
"I suppose you remember the way to your rooms?" She asked and Lisbet nodded enthusiastically "well, then I shall go and order a bath be drawn for you, your grace!"

Watching as the woman bustled away to the kitchens in her usual manner, Lisbet sighed as she gazed around the great hall, finding it quite unchanged from how she remembered. Willing tables still lined the sides with one at the head where her parents and the children used to sit. Shields bearing the crests of loyal Yorkists such as Robert Percy and Francis Lovell, lined the walls and a great fire roared behind the dais, a white boar engraved upon the mantle.

Feeling a rush of sudden excitement, as if she were a little girl again, Lisbet picked up the hem of her gown a little and darted across the room to the steps, which she somehow managed to take two at a time, until she reached the long stone gallery where all of the Yorks rooms were, apart from Marian and Richard's which was at the opposite ends of the castle.

As she went past each door, Lisbet remembered the brother or sister that it used to belong to and thought back on the times where they used to chase up and down the halls to their hearts content.
"Edmund and sometimes Francis" she said, passing the first door "Ned and Dickon's, mine, Meg's and finally" she came to the final door where the beautiful nursery her parents had designed and pushed open the door "Mary and Cece"

Staring at the ornate carvings of the wooden cradle in the middle of the room, Lisbet gently brushed a hand along them. She had laid in this cradle once, as had all the rest of her siblings apart from Anne. She remembered clinging onto the side when she was little to see a new brother or sister when they were born.

Always, Richard would lift her up into his arms so that she could peer curiously at the tiny little human wrapped in swaddling bands.

He'd then set her down and take the baby out of the cradle, sitting beside the fire and pulling his eldest daughter onto his knee, passing her the child and showing her the proper way to hold them. Lisbet smiled as she remembered holding Mary for the first time, gazing down into her inquisitive brown eyes that flicked between her sister and father.

Feeling a small kick from her child, Lisbet found herself looking forward to a time where she could sit in her father's chair and gaze down at her own little one. The only thing was, she could not imagine Francis not being there. In every image that her mind conjured up, he was there, holding their babe high up in the air or singing them gently to sleep with her by his side.