First of all, brilliant to see everyone quickly realizing the unstable clearly jealous Clarence absolutely would go to all these lengths. Also, Annie absolutely wrecking Clarence’s shit and writing down her lack of consent to the marriage makes her my absolute favorite now.February 1476. Plymouth, England.
Sir William Boleyn walked slowly as he entered the room, mindful of drawing too much attention to himself. Before him, there was the King’s brother, the Duke of Gloucester and the Earl of Rivers, who had been assigned the task of finding out where their niece was. William, for outstanding services to the crown, was trusted with assisting both lords.
And so, there he was, in the manor of the mayor of the city of Plymouth, eyes drawn to the olive-skinned but rather pale figure sprawled on the bed. It was a girl, no older than eight and ten, with wide brown eyes and dark hair clinging to her forehead. There were rags pressed to her throat, though they said she no longer bled, and the neckline of her cream and brown dress was stained red.
She opened her mouth, moaning softly, but no word came out. Barely any sound did, save for that made by air being pushed out from between her chapped and dry lips. Sir William stared at her in muted confusion, hand on the hilt of his sword. The girl, a lady’s maid to Lady Anne Holland, had lost a lot of blood when they cut her throat in an attempt to kill her, but by God’s grace she had been found quickly and would live. After three days since her attack, the physician was sure of it.
Though there was no news on whether she would ever be able to speak again.
“Mary,” the Duke of Gloucester murmured softly, sitting down at a chair that had been provided and pushed close to the bed, “You witnessed everything, didn’t you? You know who took the King’s niece?”
Mary, as small as any child could be, looked at the crone that had been tending to her with a fearful gaze. The wrinkled old woman nodded with a calm smile, stroking her face gently. “Go on, child,” she spoke in a clear Cornish accent. “Just nod or shake your head, like we practiced.”
Mary blinked, tears sliding down the corners of her face, before she turned back to Lord Gloucester and carefully nodded. The King’s brother looked at the crone for a long second before he turned back to Mary. “Do you know how to read or write?” She shook her head, anguish clear in her face. William noticed at last how small she was, clinging to the hand of the crone like a frightened child being told stories of the monster under her bed. He sighed and stepped forward.
“We have been asking her yes-and-no questions, my lords,” said the old woman, turning to look at them. “It took a while for us to get important information, but we did not give up. We know Lady Anne was taken by a noble, yes a noble, and that she was alive when our sweet girl last saw her. Isn’t that right, Mary? And that Mary heard them talk of a wedding, didn’t they, Mary?”
Mary nodded, blinking her tears away. Lord Gloucester sighed and the Earl of Rivers stepped forward. “Do you know which noble took her, miss?” he asked carefully. Mary nodded again. “Was it an important noble?” The girl nodded. “Did he have a title?”
When she nodded once again, William Boleyn stepped forward. “Was it a baron?” She shook her head. “An earl?” No, once more. William held his breath before, at last, he asked, “Was it a duke, miss, the man that took Annie Holland?”
Mary nodded and she moaned like a wounded animal, pitfully crying. The old woman hushed, stroking the hair away from her face as she wept with big gulping breaths, almost wheezing as the sobs passed through her injured throat. Lord Gloucester made a face before he stood up, thanking both women for their help. He led them away with a strange expression and William did not say anything as he followed both the Duke and the Earl away from the room, the lady’s maid still sobbing as she seemed to moan out something that seemed like a calling. As if her own desire to see Annie once more would heal her wounds and allow her to say her name.
When they were outside of the bedchamber and truly alone, Richard of Gloucester turned to Sir William and Lord Rivers. “Whoever took the King’s niece did so with the intention of wedding her,” he murmured. “She is wealthy girl who stands to inherit many lands.”
Sir William nodded, but, confused, he felt the need to say, “Lady Anne is already betrothed to Lord Somerset. Would that not invalidate any marriage?”
Lord Gloucester shook his head. “Unconsummated, the betrothal means nothing and Lord Somerset was heavily drilled by Lady Richmond on the duties of piety and chastity.”
He shook his head, baring his teeth as if ready to attack a prey. There are not many dukes in England,” Richard whispered, playing with the ring on his little finger. “There is myself, the Duke of Gloucester. Prince Richard, the eight-year-old Duke of York and Prince Edward, who holds the title of Duke of Cornwall. Henry Tudor, the Duke of Somerset. Of those, which I shall include myself seeing as I am here, investigating the matter, none have reason to take Annie. The Princes are but two children and Henry Tudor is betrothed to Lady Anne, so kidnapping her would be detrimental to his ambitions of ruling Exeter and taking control of the Holland fortune.”
The Earl of Rivers nodded, a grim look on his face. “John de Mowbray is dead, and his dukedom became extinct, with his daughter holding the title of Countess of Norfolk until the day she marries Master Thomas,” he murmured, “I can’t think of a reason why Suffolk would attempt to kidnap Anne. He is already married to the King’s own sister and his son is betrothed to the daughter of the Earl of Arundel, a match arranged by de la Pole himself. He would not change his mind like that.”
Lord Gloucester took a deep breath, shoulders shuddering with each moment of his chest. “So that leaves us only with one person,” he murmured. “My own brother, the Duke of Clarence, who is a widower that has recently requested permission to remarry, a permission that was refused by the King.”
“The King has also given wardship of Lady Salisbury to her grandmother, Lady Warwick, which took the Salisbury wealth away from the hands of my lord of Clarence,” said the Earl of Rivers. “He is angry, frustrated and that is a motive for his rash actions.”
“I know it,” said Richard, with a pain in his voice. “He is my brother and yet I know him. I know how he can be when he is angry and frustrated, but…” He shook his head. “Annie is his niece. He can’t marry her without a papal dispensation. It is forbidden.”
Sir William, who had been pondering over the entire matter in silence, stepped forward. “What if he intends to ask for a backdated dispensation?” he asked, uncaring of the lack of formality as he referred to the Duke of Clarence. As a traitor and kidnapper, William thought he deserved no degree of respect. “Did the Queen of Castile not marry without dispensation? Cardinal Borgia declared in their favour after the marriage and the birth of their firstborn child, but now, save for those in Portugal, all recognize Infante Fernando as a legitimate heir to the throne.”
"He wouldn't dare…" Lord Rivers began to say, but Lord Gloucester merely raised a hand to stop him.
"He would," he said, adjusting his stance. "Come now, my lords. We must return to London with our findings."
Sir William nodded and followed Lord Gloucester as they left the mayor's manor.
--
Richmond Castle, England.
Annie Holland paced about the room with a scowl on her face, furiously biting her own nails as she attempted to think. She had been trapped in that cold, seemingly cozy room with tapestries hanging all around her that depicted romantic stories for hours, ever since they arrived at the Duke's holdings.
Annie had attempted to escape numerous times during the journey to Richmond, but she was stopped every single instance. Her lower lip was swollen beyond belief for the first slap, but her uncle had stopped them from hitting her any further. She supposed he wanted her to be thankful for his protection, but in truth, she could only think of how if he hadn't taken her at all, she would be safe in Exeter at this moment. Warm in her bed, thinking of how any day that passed was a day closer to her marriage to Harri.
Thinking of Harri made her furious. Harri was her choice, the man she wanted to marry since she was a little girl and no one, not even her stupid and old and ugly Uncle George, could take this away from her!
She sat down at a writing desk, hands on her lap. The room was spacious enough on the second floor, with a wide bed fit for a duchess and it made her think that the room once belonged to Isabel Neville. There was a jewellery box in her desk with some of the jewels that she recognized from her deceased aunt, such as a diamond necklace that belonged to her grandmother.
Just the idea of it made her sick, that he would replace his loyal wife of many years without even pretending to fulfil the required year of mourning. The Queen had been married within six months of her first husband's death, but that had been different. She wanted to mourn the Prince of Viana and the Pope gave her leave to remarry for the sake of politics and peace in Europe.
Annie twisted her lips and pulled the drawers open at the desk. She found a piece of paper and a quill, as well as a nearly empty ink pot.
On this day, 3rd of April of the Year of Our lord 1476 and the fifteenth year of the reign of King Edward IV of England, I, Anne Holland, daughter of Lady Anne of York, do hereby declare my disagreement towards a matrimony between myself and my lord uncle, the Duke of Clarence. It is my desire to fulfill the agreement made between our families and wed Henry Tudor, the Duke of Somerset, to whom I am already pre-contracted.
I do not consent to this match and leave this document as proof of it. Because of my lack of agreement, the close familial bonds between the Duke and I (which means a papal dispensation would be necessary, something the Duke lacks) as well as the failure of Lord Clarence to seek the King's permission, this marriage, whenever it takes place, must be declared null and void. Let no man say it is valid and lawful.
Signed by the hand of Lady Anne Holland, the King's niece.
When she was done, Annie stood up and paced around again, waiting for her declaration to dry. She hoped this would be enough, but how could she be certain? There were no witnesses, none to say that the document was lawful. If she died as Isabel had done, what was there to stop George from claiming her fortune in her name?
No. She would not let this happen. She would die before such a thing happened. Annie had been well-taught by her mother to never lower her head before any man save the King of England, to be well aware of her own strength and power. No man could demand her body, her spirit, her love. She would have given all to Harri willingly, because she cared for him, but George would never find a willing bride in her.
Annie turned her gaze to the desk. The letter was dry now and she took it, stuffing it down her cleavage. She would keep it safe, until the day she was finally free of him.
After she was done cleaning any remnants of what she had done, Annie turned her eyes to the silver plate on her desk. It had been nearly three hours since they served her food and the meat had been cut for her as if she were a young child. Certainly, this was to avoid the usage of a knife that she could use to hurt anyone.
Though it was not like Annie had seen any living soul since the maid came to deliver her food. She knew there was a guard outside her locked door and she could see some men passing under her closed window, which was shut in a way she could not open to escape.
But still, she thought there must have been some creature in Richmond that was amenable to her, for there was a single golden fork with her food. The utensil had long prongs, sharp and she took it in her hand. Annie took care to slip the fork's handle into her sleeve, hiding the prongs with her palm as she held it firmly not to fall down. It was fortunate that she did so, for as soon as she felt comfortable enough with the placement of the fork, the door to the rooms opened and her uncle stepped inside.
Annie did not move as George Plantagenet entered with ease, moving about as comfortably as a wolf in his own den. She stood still as the door closed, biding her time.
Her uncle's eyes went to her plate. "Are you not hungry?"
She shook her head. "I have read my classics, Hades," she told him, "So you will not trick me."
He shook his head, laughing without meaning to. "Ah, sweet Anne, I had hoped you would show yourself more biddable to your fate by now."
"Good luck with that," said Annie. "You will have to carry me to the altar yourself, Uncle. If you ever think I will be your sweet and loyal wife, you best think again."
He stepped closer to her, offering her his palms as a sign of submission. Annie wanted nothing more than to step away, but she did nothing. Instead, her fingers tightened around the fork and she let the utensil slide down her arm until she was gripping the handle tightly in her fist.
"You must understand this is the best thing for you," he murmured, softly. "Marrying that dirty Welsh…" Uncle George shook his head. "He is no match for a king."
"You're not a king," Annie told him.
Uncle George placed his hand on the desk, smiling. "Edward is a bastard, everyone says so," he said, "Which means I'm the rightful King of England. The true son of York."
Her mouth parted in shock. "It was you who put that pamphlet in my room," she whispered and George Plantagenet smiled wide, frantically nodding.
"Richard said you were smart enough to be Queen, but I didn't know how clever you truly were," he said. "Did you like it? The drawing? I made it myself."
"Are you jesting?" she asked. "You would call your own mother a whore and for what? For the crown?" She frowned. "And who is Richard?"
George looked at something behind his back and when Annie averted her eyes from his face to look as well, she saw nothing but the wall. When the Duke of Clarence turned back to her, he had a strange look on his face.
"Can't you see him?" he asked with a heavy tone in his voice. "Are you blind? I do not want a deficient wife."
Annie tightened her hold on the fork.
"See who?" she asked. "Who is he?"
"Who is he?" George repeated, laughing. "It's King Richard, obviously! Can't you see him? Can't you see Richard of Bordeaux, who was cruelly usurped by the Lancasters and his heirs disinherited by the work of Bolingbroke? Are you stupid, Anne?"
"Richard II?" Annie asked and her uncle nodded. Her mouth parted in shock. "Oh, sweet Jesu…"
"It's alright," Uncle George said. "It's alright. There is no need for you to be smart. It's not your brain I want, sweet niece, but your womb, which you will use to give me a son. A true Prince Richard." He smiled, then, a pale and sickly smile that was enough for Annie.
She moved quickly and bravely. Annie didn't know she had succeeded until the fork sank into the flesh of the back of his hand, sliding down in a mess of blood and bones until it became stuck to the desk. Uncle George screamed immediately, a guttural sound more suited to an animal than a royal duke, and Annie grabbed the jewellery box right next to his injured hand.
She knew she didn't have much time, so she didn't hesitate to turn around and throw the heavy box through the window, breaking the glass. The door rattled and shook as the guards attempted to come inside, but in their haste, they became clumsy and could not unlock it.
"Grab her!" Uncle George shouted, still trapped to the desk. "Grab her! She is getting away!"
Annie stopped before the window. It was not a clean break and she could see jagged edges that would scratch her skin, but when she looked over it, Annie could see a large snow bank just under the window. It looked soft enough to cushion her fall and allow her to start running rather immediately afterwards.
She turned back to her uncle and showed him two of her fingers. "I'll die before I'm your blushing bride," she murmured. Then, at the pale look in his face, Annie turned her back to him and jumped out of the window.
The Sunne in Splendour: A War of the Roses Timeline
- Thread starter pandizzy
- Start date
First of all, brilliant to see everyone quickly realizing the unstable clearly jealous Clarence absolutely would go to all these lengths. Also, Annie absolutely wrecking Clarence’s shit and writing down her lack of consent to the marriage makes her my absolute favorite now.
Maybe because Anne has Royal blood on both sides ( Yorkist and Lancaster) and a heiress unlike Cecily, so she would make a good wife despite her being his niece by blood.
Yes, she's a descendant of John of Gaunt through his first wife on her father's side so even more legitimacy points.
Thanks for the explanation.
Cecily Bonville was a great heiress, possibly the wealthiest of England at this time…
Cecily is very rich, but Annie is rich and has the pedigree points of royal descent which although Cecily is a descendant of John of Gaunt, it is through Katherine Swynford and we all know how that one went.
As messed up as George is, I don't think he would go full Targaryen.
Maybe not for blood purity but because of the Salisbury/Warwick fortune. George might want his son and heir to have it, considering he attempted to have Edward name him heir to baby Margaret.
Yeah + narratively trying to kidnap Henry Tudor's wife is much more compelling than some de la Pole or C
You're literally talking about the guy having conversations with long-dead monarch, at that point I wouldn't consider anything beyoned him. And incestuous marriages in royal families happened in our world also like with Ptolemies (I am sure George had heard of them) and George has zero chance to actually pull this off anyway.
But him actually doing so would fit in with his madness, especially as he kidnapped his niece and attempted to force her into marriage.
There's the same number as there is OTL in Frbruary 1476. De la Poles aren't really important in this timeline so I'm just leaving them be.
March 1476.
March 1476. Westminster Palace, England.
Anne of York ran a brush down her daughter's hair, carefully dismantling the heavy knots spread around the red-brown tresses. She tried to keep a calm and neutral face, even though her heart was hammering inside her chest and all she wanted was to start crying and never stop.
But she couldn't. She had to be strong for her girl, to be unshakeable. Annie was just fifteen and she had lived through something unspeakable. Her entire world was turned upside down and Anne had to be the strong foundation for her to feel safe again. Whether she wanted to or not.
When she finished brushing the hair, Anne set the brush aside and began braiding the locks, carefully tying them with white ribbons. Annie was quiet, staring at her reflection in the mirror with a sorrowful expression, brown eyes swimming with emotions.
"There," said Lady Anne of York when she finished with the hair. She placed her two hands on Annie's shoulders and her daughter raised her head to look at her, the corners of his mouth turned down. "It never happened."
Annie shook her head. "I don't think I can pretend it never happened," she murmured. "I don't think I can ever forget."
"It's better this way," said Anne. She pulled a stool to sit next to Annie, directing her daughter's gaze to her. "What happened to you was a great crime, but you mustn't let that sword hang over your head, my darling." She leaned forward, touching their foreheads as she looked deep into Annie's eyes. "He is not worth your tears."
"I'm not sad," said Annie, her entire body shaking with unbridled emotion. "I'm furious. I'm outraged."
"This is good," said Anne. "Rage is good. It keeps you strong until it's time to be weak once more, but you can't let that feeling dictate over your life. You can't let him win."
"It hasn't even been a month," Annie whispered. "Uncle George hasn't even been arrested yet."
"Don't call him that," said Anne, sharply, before she murmured with conviction, "And he will soon enough," She shook her head, not knowing whether she was trying to convince her daughter or herself. "Uncle Ted would not disappoint me in such a way."
Annie twisted her lips, almost pouting. "I told Uncle Ted about how Uncle… George was the one who put that pamphlet in my bedchamber. And he told the Queen he wished her baby was dead. Is that not treason?" She looked at her, eyes wide with disbelief. Anne nodded, stroking her daughter's dark hair.
"It is," she said, "But Parliament is a difficult beast to tame. Edward hopes to pass a Bill of Attainder to spare you from bearing witness in a trial, but many important lords have not yet arrived in London to cast their votes."
Annie nodded, though she had a faraway look on her face. Anne of York sighed, touching her cheek gently.
"What is wrong?" she asked.
Annie's cheek dipped under, a sign that she was chewing on the soft flesh under the skin, before she spoke, "I haven't spoken to Harri since I escaped."
Anne frowned. "Why not?"
"I don't know!" Annie shrieked, sounding almost hysterical. "I'm afraid he will look at me like I'm different, like I'm soiled because of what George did and he won't want to marry me anymore." She fisted her hands, face flushed with rage. "I have waited my entire life to marry Harri Tudor and the idea of missing the opportunity just because of someone else's actions makes me irrationally angry."
"How can you know what he thinks if you haven't even spoken to him?" Anne asked. "Lord Somerset is well aware of what has happened. He will not hold it against you, nor will he try to stop this marriage."
"I don't believe you," said Annie, tears streaming down her face.
Anne shook her head. "Harri was very distressed when news came of your abduction and was only stopped from riding to Richmond Castle himself by his mother and the King. You must think better of him than to imagine that he will cancel this marriage because of something out of your control, when you yourself signed a document declaring your lack of consent to an union with George." She placed a hand on her daughter's shoulder, making her look at her. "Talk to Harri, explain your fears to him and see that he will say exactly what I have said."
She clicked her tongue, touching the top of Annie's head.
"Do you want to hear something else?" she asked. Annie nodded, careful. "When I was expecting you, I was so very scared."
"Why?" Annie asked, a hint of sadness underneath her voice.
"I was two and twenty with a husband exiled and my brother waging war against the man we were raised to think of as King," she said. "Our father had very recently died and there was nothing to say Uncle Ted would be able to avenge him and take his rightful throne. I feared what would happen to you, to me, to everyone."
Anne sighed, willing the courage to say the necessary words to flow through her veins.
"But most of all, I feared what would happen to me if you turned out like your father. Cruel, aggressive, selfish. I admit to being selfish in my own turn as I spent many nights awake, feeling as you moved around inside of me, crying because I could not bear another heartbreak," she murmured, watching the slow shift in Annie's expressions, dark eyes filling up with emotion. "I thought you were going to be a boy and I knew your father would wish you to be named Henry after him, or maybe John after his father. For most of our marriage, he raged at our lack of sons." She chuckled, though there was no humour behind it. "I couldn't bear to give him what he truly wanted, so I decided I was going to name you Edward after your uncle or Richard after my father, even if we did not win."
"But I was not a boy," said Annie.
"No, you were not," said Anne of York. "You were a beautiful little girl with light brown curls and deep amber eyes. When they put you in my arms for the first time, it was the happiest moment of my life." She pushed a lock of stray red-brown hair behind Annie's ear before dragging her fingers down her face, curling them under her chin. "And I realized then that I had completely wasted my entire pregnancy, worrying about something that did not come to exist. Because of my fears, I didn't enjoy having you in my belly as I ought to have done, I did not allow myself to be happy for the new arrival. I was so preoccupied with my own problems that I didn't even think to name you if you were a girl and that is my biggest regret."
"Then who named me?" Annie asked as she cleaned her tears.
Anne smiled. "Your grandmother," she said, "The Dowager Duchess. She had come to be with me after your grandfather died and was present at your birth. When she saw you for the first time, she swore you looked exactly as I did and that you deserved to have my name." Anne smiled, remembering her mother's words that day, declaring her to be a strong woman and an even stronger princess.
She turned her eyes back to Annie, thinking of that large baby they had placed over her chest, crying out her displeasure. Her daughter had grown only stronger ever since then.
"You will be alright," said Anne. "We will all be alright."
Her daughter did not respond.
Awww I'm so glad that Annie made it back to her mother's care safe and (mostly) physically unharmed. It's good that her mama managed to comfort her too!
Physically she is fine. She's just quite mentally exhausted which is understandable.
What’s that I’m smelling? Smells like something super romantic and sweet? Is it… an elopement? I think it is.