❝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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Charlotte wore her hood over her head, trying her best not to be recognized. If anyone saw her sneaking into the King's chambers, they'd think the worst. Even though Edward's chambers consisted of more than simply a bed. She knew there was a study, a bedroom, a common room and a large closet for his majesty's clothes.
There was a guard, protecting the King from any assassination attempt, although she and everyone at court knew Edward was more than capable of defending himself. The guard was mere decoration.
He did not speak a word to her as he opened the door. "My lady."
Charlotte wondered if he know who she was. Of course he did. A guard wouldn't just let an unknown, unwelcomed lady into the King's quarters. Oh, who was she kidding? Of course they would when the king in question was Edward of York. Giving it more thought, it was more than likely he'd let a group of whores into the room without even needing instructions for it.
The room was surprisingly empty. She expected more clatter and chatter, and servants. The last time she'd been there, the room had been a mess in the afternoon and when they returned, it had all been cleaned up, but the servants had been sent away. She was instantly wary, well aware of his desire for her and how she could not succumb to it.
"Charlotte."
She spun around, pulling down her hood. The King was dressed in his usual clothes, for which she was eternally thankful for. It was his chambers, after all, he could have worn his night clothes if it so pleased him.
She curtsied to him. "Your Majesty."
"There is no need for that in here," Edward told her gently. "To you, I am simply Edward."
"Edward."
Edward gazed at her, a half-dazed expression on his slightly bearded face. "You look beautiful in the candlelight."
Charlotte blushed. "Thank you."
"Shall we begin?" Edward asked, gesturing to the card table.
She nodded, seating herself at the table.
─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────
Edward sat up in bed, having once again dreamt of Charlotte. He'd spoken to her alone tonight, danced with her, pressed her body tighter to his than was proper, but she'd only smiled at him. She'd laughed when it was proper and gave him her cheek to kiss when he leaned in. But all that had done was inflame him more, make him yearn to possess her more. And yet she was elusive, slipping away from him the second she saw a chance.
Just a girl, he had told Warwick when his foster father questioned what had him so distracted. But she was more than just a girl, wasn't she? She was Edmund's would-be-bride. She was the daughter of the man who had all but raised him. She was a girl who he'd known from childhood.
