Oh my dear, what a lovely written heartbreaking scene with Madgalena. She'll never be the same, poor woman...
The Sunne in Splendour: A War of the Roses Timeline
- Thread starter pandizzy
- Start date
It's more that in her eyes, Richard wasn't supposed to die. He was healthy, spry. Only sixteen. She wasn't expecting it.
True, and Ned will also be haunted by this until his dying breath,
Your writing is very emotive, it conveys perfectly the heartbreak any mother would feel in such circumstances without becoming melodramatic. I just wonder how Blanche can ever recover from the loss of her one true love and face his killer without it being obvious to Ned that his suspicions were well founded.
February 1485.
February 1485. Whitehall Palace, England.
Her troubles began, as so many women's problems do, with her monthly courses. Or rather, the lack thereof. It took days before she realised it, drowning in her grief, and it was only because of a servant's question. She had been moving through life for weeks, barely living, only surviving. Going through the motions of eating, drinking and sleeping when she was expected to. Because there were eyes upon her and the Queen of England was not expected to mourn for her brother-in-law any more than his own mother did.
And then, her serving girl said, "Will you need ale for the pain, Your Grace?"
Blanche blinked, slowly looking up at her. "Pain?" she asked, frowning. "What pain?"
The young girl paled, afraid to be wrong and offending her queen. "For your monthly courses, my queen," she said. "It is the second." Her words were an ache deep in Blanche's heart and she looked at her ladies, sitting in front of her. They had been attempting to play a card game, as most of the court's entertainments were cancelled in lieu of their loss, when the serving girl came to whisper in her ear.
"I…" Blanche began. "I have not bled yet." Her ladies gasped. "Not since… December, I believe." The serving girl widened her eyes, a smile seeming to curl her pink lips and Blanche shook her head. "It is the stress, I'm sure. The Duke of York has been dead for just a month." But her ladies were shaking their heads, tongues ready to wag and gossip. "I must be feeling sympathy pains for my beloved husband."
Blanche could not say her bleeding was regular. There could be days of delay, maybe even weeks, since it was normal for girls her age to be irregular in such business. Especially less than two years after they first bled. The doctors believed it was because their bodies were not meant to produce children until they were older. And Blanche was only fourteen.
"Don't say anything to the King," she said to her ladies. "If I tell him I'm in this situation and I bleed tomorrow, it will be the greatest humiliation. Don't speak until I myself am confident in the matter." Her ladies nodded, though Blanche was sure that any of them would spill it to the highest bidder. And when they did, it would have already happened.
Because Blanche knew it to be true. Even if she could not say it out loud, not until more certain proof could be felt, Blanche knew. Deep in her stomach. There was a baby inside her and though she was happy, she was also afraid. For her life. For her child. For her waning fertility. Her mother produced a child in the same age Blanche was and it took years before she could produce another, another who died in her womb. Would the same thing happen to her?
The child that had taken root in her womb was conceived in the middling days of December, perhaps even on the very first day that she and Edward… Oh. Oh no.
The father could be either Richard or Edward, and she didn't know which one it was. Oh Lord, she didn't know
--
Westminster Abbey, England.
Edward ran his hand through the marble plate, the gold letters tickling his palm. Tears burned in the corners of his eyes as he read through the inscription over the tomb, the loving message chosen by his mother to hold his brother throughout the rest of time.
Richard Duke of York. 13 November 1468; 5 January 1485. For since we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so, through Jesus, God will bring with him those who have fallen asleep.
He closed his eyes, tears sliding down his cheeks and he took a swig of his ale. He had been drinking frequently as of late, as alcohol was the only way he knew how to drown out his pain. The memories of his brother’s eyes, the blood that flowed from his head.
“Dickon,” he sobbed out, leaning his forehead against the cold marble plate. “I never wanted you to die. I just-- I just wanted you to be quiet.” It was a weak excuse, or just a justification that he wasn’t proud of. Edward didn’t even know what he was saying, what he was trying to say. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” If he could turn back time, he would. If he knew that giving his life would mean Richard’s return, then he would without a moment of hesitation.
He took another swig of his ale.
This is the wildest medieval soap opera - At least it seems that Edward will accept his brother’s kid as his own due to the sheer guilt. I still hope it’s a girl though. It will ensure that no one doubts the succession in the future. Also she’ll be allowed to have the child, and her last legacy of Dickon, to herself
Last edited:
I really hope that baby isn't Richard's. And poor Ned, it seems like he's gonna become a drunkard of a king. Hope he gets better.
This is the 15th century - no one is going to be able to prove definitively who fathered Blanche’s child, especially since the two potential fathers are also brothers and she also slept with them on the exact same night. As long as Edward acknowledges the kid as his, which I have a feeling he will, then Blanche and her baby are set
They might be Ned’s legally (and biologically) and no one will be able to prove otherwise but rumors can still fly. Maybe 30 years down the line, her younger son gets too ambitious and tells the story of how Blanche loved both Ned and Dickon and how his older brother might be his cousin. Otl, rumors were enough to cast doubt on the parentage of Edward of Westminster and Edward IV. That’s why I think it’ll be easier if she has a girl this time, even if Ned’s the father
my understanding is that blanche and richard only slept together the one time
oh damn, Blanche is knocked up, where's Maury when you need him hahaaa?
Poor Ned, I can't imagine how awful he feels about all this... Hopefully his drinking dosen't cause health issues, but his father was also overly indulgent.
Poor Ned, I can't imagine how awful he feels about all this... Hopefully his drinking dosen't cause health issues, but his father was also overly indulgent.
April 1485.
April 1485. Whitehall Palace, England.
“Edward?” Blanche began as she entered the room, closing the door behind her. The pungent smell of wine and ale hit her, as well as the sour smell of vomit, and she pressed a handkerchief to her nose. “My love?” The words hurt her heart and she clutched her free hand to her chest.
She walked across his otherwise fine furniture and found her lord husband laying down on his bed, eyes closed and holding tightly to a bottle of wine. Edward had been missed at lunch and when she went to the privy council room in search of him, she found only a servant cleaning, who told her the meeting for the day had been cancelled. And now… There she saw him, drunk and unconscious. It made her stomach roll with nerves.
Blanche placed her hand on his shoulder. “Edward.” She shook him gently, but firmly. “Edward, it’s me.” He flinched awake, blue eyes shot open as he looked at her in both confusion and fear.
“Blanche?” He rubbed his face. “What are you doing here?” His breath was sour and she took a step back, lest she continued to be assaulted by his smell. “Did something happened?”
She supposed now was the best time to speak. He wouldn’t improve his condition, not in some hours and with a good bath, and she had already asked his servants to wait for her to speak with him before they entered. And besides, she wanted to get it over with, now that she was certain.
“Edward,” she began as he sat up in the bed, rubbing at his face tiredly. “I have great news to share.” Her stomach rolled with the smell and she pressed her handkerchief to her nose again, composing herself quickly.
Edward looked up at her and she wondered, not for the first, what Richard would say in this moment. He would smile, Blanche was sure, and take her in his arms, spinning her around the room. He would be happy, so happy, even if they could never say the words.
Why did it have to be him?, she silently asked her husband. Why couldn’t it be you?
“I’m with child, Edward,” she told him, unable to think about the possibility of this child being his, just as it could be Richard’s. I’ll know when it’s born, she thinks to herself. When the baby comes and she looks at its eyes, she will know which brother had fathered it. “An heir. Isn’t that wonderful?”
Edward shook his head. “We haven’t---” he began. “Not since December.” He tensed and so did she, as his eyes raised to look at her. “Is it mine? Or is it my brother’s?” She opened her mouth, ready to swear that the child was his, but he shook his head. “Who am I kidding? If it’s not mine, then that is the Lord’s punishment.”
“Our child is not a punishment,” she began, but Edward raised his head to quiet her. She had been so used to obeying him that she closed her mouth without thinking, staring down at him.
“If it’s a boy, then that is the Lord’s will.” He stood up and looked at his bottle, half full with expensive wine. “The Lord wishes for him to be king when I’m gone.” With a sudden movement, he threw his goblet at the wall and Blanche screamed, the glass shattering into a million shards. Her husband looked at her again. “I’m going to take care of you. And him.” He stepped closer to her and she stepped back, but placed his hands at her shoulders, holding her in place. “We’re going to be a family.”
He pulled her into an embrace and tears came to her eyes, because that was not what she wanted. It wasn’t what she wanted at all.