Bolingbroke was ahead of Philippa in succesion and once Richard is gone childless, the throne goes to Lancasters (+ Richard gave up his claim, while Henry VI didn't)
A Thorn In The Rose: A War Of The Roses TL
- Thread starter VVD0D95
- Start date
Bolingbroke was ahead of Philippa in succesion and once Richard is gone childless, the throne goes to Lancasters (+ Richard gave up his claim, while Henry VI didn't)
I mean AIUI technically Bolingbroke isn’t a usurper. Richard II abdicated before Bolingbroke took the throne and Parliament then elected him King (Mortimer was an option too) so, in the strictest sense of the word he isn’t a usurper.
York was an option, parliament chose between Lancaster and York and rejected Richard II's will and Yorkist succesion
Interesting that they went with Duke of Somerset for the second son, but I guess that makes sense considering his maternal lineage.
VVD0D95
Banned
Third son, but yeah. Figured that at the time he was born Clarence and Gloucester were taken, so why not play to the maternal heritage.
Chapter 210: Kettering 3
VVD0D95
Banned
Chapter 210: Kettering 3
January, 1470
January, 1470
His momentum forced him into the man who was hammering away at Clifford. Edward had wanted to go the other way, but the blow he’d received from that bigger man had sent him tumbling this way.
The man got up and snarled at him. Edward slowly moved and raised his weapon. He wanted to say something but didn’t know what to say.
The man advanced on him, and then their dance began. They swung at one another. Sparks flying as their weapons blocked one another. The man pushed and Edward stumbled back, but he anticipated what would come next, and so quickly moved to the left, forcing the man to stumble.
Edward attacked then. His sword came and hit. He moved and pushed and snarled. Grunting with the sheer effort. It was damnably hot. He moved and twisted. The man counterattacked, and Edward tried his best to diminish the impact the man’s blows would have on him. Whether he’d succeeded or not he didn’t quite know. His body was aching.
The man pushed him away from Clifford. Which was good, he guessed. It meant that man could recover if he so desired. Edward kept stepping back, but then he tripped, and the man towered over him. The man snarled something at him. Edward didn’t understand it, so he quickly got up and swung.
The man blocked him and then their dance continued. This way and that, tooing and froing. Edward got a strike on the man, and the man got two strikes on him. Edward pushed back, and the man pushed forward. Onward they went. Swirling through the tempest. Edward desperately looking for somewhere to go. Somewhere to break the momentum.
He struggled to find it. The man snarled again and then Edward was really on the back foot. He didn’t know how to swerve through, he couldn’t find any gaps. He was scared. Was something going to go wrong? He wanted to call out for help, but he didn’t know whether he could. His voice was stuck inside. He was panting, he was scared. His heart was racing.
This wasn’t what he’d wanted.
The man started moving toward him. They were going to end this one way or another, Edward supposed. He raised his weapon, and then asked. “Who are you?” He hated that his voice sounded high pitched and thus like a child. He wanted to be a man, not a child.
“Your death.” The man snarled, he then charged at Edward.
Edward managed to block the man’s first blow, he then got a blow of his own in, forcing the man back, he stepped forward to follow and found himself caught between the man’s fist and his weapon. That was unconventional. Edward stumbled backwards.
The man followed and swung. Edward couldn’t get his weapon up in time and felt his arms scream in pain. The man attacked him again and this time it was his throat that screamed in pain. The man went for a third blow, but Edward ducked and managed to hit the man in the gut.
The man wasn’t down for long though. Instead he came right back at Edward, swinging and hurtling. Edward fell. The man towered over him and snarled. Then there was a blow, Edward winced, another blow, Edward screamed, a third blow and he saw stars. He could feel the breeze blowing.
His helmet had been removed, meaning his hair had shown through, but now he was completely exposed. The man made no comment. Instead he raised his weapon. Edward said a prayer. He hoped that someone would come and rescue him, but he had his doubts. Nobody seemed to notice what was going on.
“Forgive me, Father, for I have failed you.” Edward whispered. “Forgive me, Mother, for I have not returned to you.”
The weapon came down and Edward screamed.
Chapter 211: Kettering: A Mother's Breakdown
VVD0D95
Banned
Chapter 211: Kettering-A Mother’s Breakdown
January, 1470
January, 1470
Margaret twisted the prayer beads around. Trying to find a way to calm herself, but there was nothing she could do that would calm her. She was terrified. Terrified that Edward would die, that they would lose, that everything would be for naught. She had considered sending a messenger to the Yorkist camp before the battle had begun, asking for terms. She’d decided against that.
Now she was terrified and wished she had done that. A messenger had come to tell her that the Yorkist van had broken but that Clifford had been killed alongside half their own vanguard. She’d also been told that Northumberland had died. That had made her even more nervous.
She looked up as the doors were thrown open.
Two men in armour walked toward her. She got up, something in her telling her that they brought bad news. When they stopped before her, they bowed, and she relaxed a little. “Your Majesty, the King wishes to see you.”
“The King?” Margaret asked, that gave her hope.
“Yes, Majesty, please follow us.” The guards said.
Margaret did as she was bid, following them out of the room, down a flight of steps and out into the open. She pinched her nose at the smell. Death and decay, chaos and blood, all of that assaulted her nose. She wondered why Edward had asked her to come to him instead of coming to her, but then reminded herself that he was the King now, she would do as he bid.
They walked in silence until they came to a tent that flew the Royal Standard, the lions and the fleur de lis. The tent flap was opened and she walked in.
A man was sat at a table; his wounds being treated. He had dark hair and a short nose, his eyes were dark. “You are not Edward.” Margaret said at once.
She vaguely recognised him. She’d seen him at court once before.
The man laughed. “I am not your boy, no. I am the King.”
Margaret stepped back in horror, the guards held her arms. “You are a usurper!” She snarled. “Where is Edward?”
The man sighed. “Your son is dead.”
Something in her shattered at that, but she said. “You lie! My son has not died. Where is he?”
The man sighed. “Bring in the body.”
Body?
She watched as three guards left the tent and then watched as they entered carrying a body. She let out a whimper as she saw whose body it was. Her beautiful baby’s! His head was cracked and bleeding. His eyes were closed; his hair was mottled with blood. He looked peaceful but he was gone.
The body was placed on the floor before her. Margaret touched it and then she cried.
“WHY!” She yelled at the man who looked at her without expression. “WHY!”
“It was the only way to end this war. It was him or me. My family has suffered enough, and now this war is over.” The man said.
Margaret cradled her son’s lifeless body and wailed. “This isn’t over, the Beauforts will destroy you!”
The man laughed. “They are all dead.”
“NO!” Margaret wailed, tears falling down her cheeks. Her son was dead. Her baby boy was dead; she couldn’t believe it.
The man stood and towered over her. “You have a choice. You can bend the knee, return to France or die.”
Margaret looked at the man through her tears and snarled. “Kill me. Kill me and let me be with my son!”
The man sighed. “Fine.” He drew his sword, and Margaret held her son as the end came.
margaret? you mean, the already queen consort margaret beaufort who would never go against her lord and husband?
She is the heir to the Lancastrians, she is the rightful Queen, she is Queen Margaret I as far as I am concerned, with Edmund being her consort.
*drinks tea while observing this carnage* Fucking finally. The Lancastrians are dead.
Last edited:
Really, bro. No one is gonna consider her a queen regnant when it was edmund who won the battle
He appears to be a prisoner at the moment so if the Lancastrians have any common sense…