So I'm gonna stick with auburn hair just because I already wrote it as such.
The Sunne in Splendour: A War of the Roses Timeline
- Thread starter pandizzy
- Start date
Deleted member 147978
Is Edward IV going to marry Lady Grey or a Savoyard Girl at the behest of Lord Warwick for the POD?
Deleted member 147978
If it's an OTL event, it's not a POD. Although AH TLs may or may not have OTL events playing out depending on how divergent the TL is.
That’s fair! If it’s disputed, then it’s fair game
I was just sure people agreed she was blondeLisa Hilton says in her book about medieval queens of England that Elizabeth Woodville was blonde. But Margaret of Anjou seemed to be a brunette.That’s fair! If it’s disputed, then it’s fair game
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I read that Elizabeth was a redhead, like her daughter and granddaughters. While Margaret's most known portrait has her with blonde hair.
February 1464
February 1464. Windsor, England.
The woman in the portrait was wearing black, dressed in the Burgundian fashion with a high-waisted gown and a collar trimmed in ermine, a cloak of deep blue patterned with golden fleur-de-lis draping down her back. Her hair was braided, held in place by a pointed hennin fixed with a long flowing veil and a large golden crucifix hung from a necklace across her breast. And in her hands, which looked slender and delicate, a single white rose free of stems rested.
Her face was simple and common, but fair enough to look upon. She was neither ugly nor beautiful. Her features were soft and round, her nose thankfully smaller than that of her brother. Her eyes were a deep shade of blue and heavily lidded, her hair was a dark brown, almost black and thick and lush if the portrait is to be believed.
He looked at the French ambassador, a small and rotund man with fingers as thick as sausages. “Is the Princess still in mourning for her late husband?”
“She is,” the ambassador said regretfully, but then waved his hand about as if the matter was not important, “But soon, the Princess will come out of mourning and be available for marriage. The King was able to acquire a dispensation for her to mourn only for six months, before remarrying.”
“Six months?” Warwick asked, surprised.
“Oh, oui, but counting from the day of the death of the Prince of Viana, of course, so only two months remain before the Princess is able to come here.” He smiled and waved at the portrait before them, “What do you say? Do you think le Roi will be pleased with her?”
Warwick looked at the portrait again. He had known Edward since he was a boy, had seen him grow and knew how his appetites were. If Edward’s attraction to Elizabeth was any indication of his tastes, then the Princess seemed to fall short. She was reportedly short where Elizabeth was tall, thick about the waist where Elizabeth was slender, and by all accounts, the Princess was quiet and proud and pious, hardly a kindred spirit to Edward.
He took a breath and prayed that Edward would be pleased with her. If not, then, not all was lost. He would not have to see her often. Only in official ceremonies and when it was time to make his heirs. Besides, it was not her looks that led to the marriage being arranged. She could be blind, deaf and dumb for all he cared. What mattered was the gain England, and Edward with it, could have from this match. Trade, lands, gold and, more importantly, the discontinuation of any support Louis XI might give to his cousin, Marguerite of Anjou. After all, a marriage to his sister would mean a nephew of his blood on the English throne, compared to the son of some cousin.
He looked at the ambassador again and nodded, smiling. He pointed at a chair and one of his servants offered the man some wine. “Now, please, let us speak. I understand your King intends to send his sister with a considerable dowry.”
“Oh, yes. Here are the lands that the King is willing to offer,” said the ambassador. He pulled a rolled paper from his pocket and set it in front of Warwick, smiling broadly. When he opened it, Warwick saw that it was a map from the Pale of Calais and the lands surrounding it. There were a few counties circled in red ink, more than he expected. Anjou, Boulogne and others. Some the King had no immediate control over and Warwick imagined it was only a promise of land, a whisper, a claim to be pressed at a later time.
More importantly, however, the whole of Normandy was circled, even Rouen.
Warwick felt the need to stand up and walk around the room, too shocked to even speak. Instead, he drank a gulp of wine and looked at the ambassador again. The fat fool was smiling, pleased with himself.
“Normandy?” he asked, disbelief clear in his voice, “Your King is willing to give us the whole of Normandy?”
“Oui,” the ambassador said, “My King is very eager to see his sister as la Reine d’Angleterre and he thinks it will be a nice gift for his soon-to-be brother. I imagine the King will be very pleased to have his birthplace returned to him, no?”
Edward would be delighted. Knowing him, he would marry any ugly girl for the chance to expand his dominions on the continent. But Warwick could not show the ambassador that. He maintained his face neutral and his voice cool as he carefully looked at the map again.
“Le Roi also offers a substantial dowry of 110,000 livres. Of that, 30,000 remain as payments to be made in yearly intervals of 1,500. The rest of it includes jewels, clothes, books, plates and the like that the Princess will bring here, plus the lands already mentioned. We are also expecting a suite of over two thousand people to come and serve her, but the number can change. I will tell you more when I’m sure of it.”
Warwick nodded, though his heart raced. The number was extraordinary. As the ambassador looked on, he took his own paper out of his pocket and handed it to him.
“The King offers her the apanage of these cities for her to enjoy during her tenure as queen,” he said slowly, as if the matter was not important to him, “More else, she will also receive the Duchy of Somerset to enjoy as her own should she be left a childless widow. Somerset will, of course, not be inheritable by any child she has in case of a third marriage, and will return to the crown upon her death.”
The ambassador smiled as he read through the paper, “Bien sûr. Perfect, Monsieur Warwick. I believe we will soon have a marriage to celebrate.” He paused as his smile faltered, “Of course, the King would also like the assurance that his new brother will not invade France in the future. It would be a crime to go against your own family such as this.”
Louis XI had rebelled against his own father when he was young, but Warwick said nothing. He was expecting something like this. The Spider would not give over the entirety of Normandy and a hefty dowry without expecting something in return, something big. Something like the promise that there would be no return of the Angevin Empire of old, or that a second Battle of Agincourt would not happen. It would be hard to convince Edward of such, or even the other nobles, who were eager to reclaim the lands lost by Henry VI, but he could do it. Warwick knew he could.
He leaned over the table and smiled, “Of course. King Edward loves King Louis dearly already. He would not dream of going against his brother, the King of France." He sighed, "His Grace only hopes that Louis will extend the hand of friendship and not offer any support to the false queen Marguerite de Anjou and her supporters."
"Already done," said the ambassador, "If that is all, Monsieur, then I believe we have come to an agreement."
The fat fool smiled, pleased with himself, no doubt thinking he had convinced Warwick, that he had gained more than he had lost, not knowing Warwick had entered the negotiations with every intention of arranging a match and was pleased with all there was to be gained. He took his goblet of wine in hand and the two toasted, happy to have arranged the marriage between a Princess of France and the King of England.
Warwick only hoped it would go better than last time.
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"I have told you no and no!" said Elizabeth, escaping from his grasp, "I will not be your mistress, Your Grace!"
“But, sweetheart,” said Edward, going after her, “You must understand that I am King and there is the expectation I make a marriage for an alliance. I swear that you and you alone shall be the true Queen of my heart. I will honour you above whatever foreign princess Warwick bids me to marry.”
“I don’t care,” she answered, turning her head away, “I still have my honour, good sir, and I will not smear my good name.”
She turned back to him for just a second and he saw her lips, which were a shade of vivid red from bruising. They had been kissing once again, caught in a heated movement, but when he tried to take things further, she pushed him away. As she always did. She tested him. She tormented him.
“If you wish to preserve your honour, let me find you a husband among my courtiers. A man who will care for you and any children I may give you. Your honour will be above repute and you will be free to be mine for as long as you will have me.”
“No, Your Grace,” she answered, long auburn hair tumbling freely down her back, “I will not have it. Is it not just me you wish to shame, but a poor and innocent man as well? Oh, they will all be glad to take me, I’m sure, donning their horns gleefully as long as you bestow favour upon me or upon them, but as soon as you tire of me, I will be out in the streets. Me and our bastards. No, Your Grace. I will not have my sons suffer again.”
“I will never tire of you, my sweet,” said Edward, coming to her. He took advantage of her distraction to kiss her shoulder and the curve of her delicious neck, “And I will never tire of your husband too. I have a man just in mind. William Hastings. A good man, and loyal to the bone. You will be a baroness…”
She had been starting to giggle against his kisses, but suddenly remembered herself and pulled away. Edward could only watch as she adjusted the collar of her green dress and looked at him with such anger and intensity, he almost cowered.
“The Duchess expects me,” she said, “I must return to her.”
“No!” said Edward, running to catch her hands in his, “Wait a minute, Elizabeth. Please. Will you not even consider my proposition?”
She shook her head. “Baron Hastings is already married, Your Grace. To your cousin, Katherine Neville.”
Fuck. Edward had forgotten that. He forgot many things when he was in the presence of Lady Grey. He sighed and rubbed a hand at his forehead, trying to think straight.
“Sir John Fiennes then. He is a man of good fortune and heir to the 7th Baroness of Dacre. He will be happy to have you.”
“You are grasping at things,” she answered, unkindly, “No, Your Grace. I will not dishonour such a man. Please, leave me be.”
Before she could turn around and abandon him, Edward said the words that had been stuck in his throat for the entire night, “I can’t. I can’t leave you.”
“Please, Your Grace, that is all I ask of you. Leave me be.”
“No,” said Edward. He stepped forward and took her face in his hands, leaning their foreheads together, “I am mad for you, Lady Elizabeth. I must have you and… If you will not be my mistress, then you must marry me.”
Her eyes widened. “What?” she asked.
“Marry me, Elizabeth, and make me the happiest man in England. Marry me and I will raise you above everyone else, so high up that no one will have any choice, but to adore you.”
“And what of Warwick? What of the alliance for England?”
“I will convince Warwick to support us,” he said, already convinced himself, “Yes, yes. We must wait until we have him on our side, but Warwick has been my friend for years. He is like a brother to me. He will understand that I’m doing this so I will be happy and so England will have the queen she deserves.”
“My father is just a baron…” she whispered.
“And I am the son of a traitor,” Edward answered. He kissed her then, long and sweet, “Marry me, Elizabeth. Be my queen.”
For the longest time, there was silence and then...
“Yes,” she said, “I will marry you.”
He kissed her again. And again, and again, and again. He kissed her until she melted into his embrace, giggling against his lips. When she did so, he took her in his arms and brought her to his rooms. It was still early and the night was young.
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I had a feeling that this would happen, my bet is Edward will elope and marry Lady Grey and then marry Madeleine later, causing all sorts of drama later down the line!
Typical Edward! Excellent update, I can't wait to see the drama unfold!
Typical Edward! Excellent update, I can't wait to see the drama unfold!
No, in fact I very match want to see him elope with her, and then marry Madeleine just so I can watch the massive scandal erupt!