maybe one of the younger woodville girls or two wind up in madeleine's household? i could see her being the kind of woman/queen to not hold their older sister's behavior against them.
The Sunne in Splendour: A War of the Roses Timeline
- Thread starter pandizzy
- Start date
Tbh I can't see that with the way she compared the Woodvilles to a hydra in an earlier chapter
Richard of Gloucester is betrothed to Margaret Stewart’s younger sister correct? I think I missed that part, since there’s so many Margaret’s, Anne’s, and Elizabeth’s.
If I recall correctly, Richard already married Margaret Stewart's older sister, Mary.
I believe this is her OTL counterpart:
en.m.wikipedia.org
I believe this is her OTL counterpart:
Mary Stewart, Countess of Arran - Wikipedia
January 1471.
January 1471. Windsor Castle, England.
For Christmas, Harri’s mother gave him a collection of books of ancient Arthurian poems and on the cold morning of the first day of the new year, he and Annie Holland huddled together to read one of them. They sat together in front of a burning hearth on his rooms, as close as they possibly could be, sharing their warmth amidst the freezing temperatures of winter. Annie’s elbow was digging into his side and she was chewing on her lower lip as he read to her, trying to keep his voice high and clear.
Unlike the last time he read to her, Harri was allowed to read the words in their original French, as Annie had already begun her lessons in the language and could understand them. Her brown eyes were focused on the yellow page before them, watching the words that depicted the story of Yvain, the Knight of the Lion carefully, her hands placed neatly over her fur-covered legs. He couldn’t stop looking at her with the corner of his eyes. Harri wanted to see if she was truly paying attention because she wasn’t saying anything or reacting at all.
When he stopped reading, though, to see her reaction, she frowned and turned to him. “Continue,” she demanded with a pout.
“Are you even listening to me?” he asked, arching a blonde eyebrow. Annie nodded. “Then what is Yvain doing?”
“He is trying to convince his wife to allow him to return home,” Annie said, tilting her chin proudly. Her brown eyes glinted as if daring him to say she wasn’t right. Harri sighed, nodding resolutely at her, and returned his eyes to the book. The poem was rather large, covering various pages, but he didn’t really mind it. He quite liked Yvain’s story, even though the poem had been written many years before he was born, and he had to read some words again to understand them. Harri licked his chapped lips and began to read the poem again, right from where he stopped.
As he read it, he noticed Annie’s movements. She stretched her legs before her and sighed, laying her head on his shoulder. Harri hitched his breath and he stopped for a second before she hummed low on her throat in complaint. He continued.
It took him another hour to finish it and at the end, his mouth felt odd, his tongue tired from speaking. Harri closed the book and set it aside, looking back at Annie, who was still with her head on his shoulder. She was quiet, staring in front of them.
“Annie?” he called and she blinked, looking up at him. She had a strange look on her face as if she had only just realized he was in the room with her.
“I was thinking,” she said in Welsh. “My lady mother says I’m going to marry my cousin, the Prince of Wales, but I don’t want to marry him. He is a baby! He can’t even read yet!”
Harri frowned. He remembered Annie had mentioned her mother’s desire to have her be queen many times before, but, if he had to be honest, he had forgotten about it. Richard and Francis were always speaking about Annie as if she would one day marry him, Harri, not Ned of York. They spoke about it so often that Harri had begun to think of it as a possibility.
He pressed his lips together, slightly angry. Prince Ned was a fun little boy, but he was still a boy. And Annie was much older than him, closer to Harri’s age than the Prince’s. She didn’t need a little boy beside her, she needed a man. And he was a man! His mother said so every time they met, pinching his cheeks and saying he was getting very big. Harri was thirteen, but he would be fourteen in just a few days. He would be of age! Baby Ned had to wait many years to be of age, but Harri had to wait only just some twenty days.
“Babies are very boring,” he murmured, jealous. “And I don’t want to see you married to a baby.”
She nodded. “I don’t want to marry a baby,” she said. “Babies are very boring.”
Harri twisted his mouth, his throat dry. He looked at Annie. She was his friend, he knew it so. They exchanged letters, they played together.
“Who would you marry, if you could choose?” he asked, eager. At thirteen, Harri was beginning to have an interest in girls and he hoped Annie, at just nine, did so too. But for boys. Not for girls. If she liked girls, then what could he do? He wasn’t a girl. He was a boy. No. Not a boy. A man.
Annie frowned, poking her tongue out in concentration. “I would choose…” Then she looked at him and smiled. “I would choose you, of course! You are the greatest person in the world, Harri!” He flushed, happy at her words, and looked at his feet. It’s what he wanted to hear and yet… His heart thrummed joyfully at it. “And you? Would you choose me?”
He nodded vehemently and Annie giggled. She turned to kneel before him, placing her two hands on her lap. “I saw the King kissing the Queen one day,” she whispered as if it were a secret. “If you are going to be my husband, you need to kiss me.” His throat closed up. He didn’t know he was supposed to do that. Harri leaned forward and pressed his lips to her cheek for a second before pulling away. Annie giggled again. “No, you silly! On the mouth.”
He frowned. “Why would I kiss you on the mouth?” he asked and she shrugged.
“I don’t know,” she said. “But I saw the King do it. And the King is a husband.”
“What if that’s something only Kings do?” he offered and Annie frowned, settling back on her feet, thinking.
“What if it’s not?” she retorted. “Just one kiss, Harri.” When he said nothing, Annie sighed. “Close your eyes, then. I’ll kiss you instead.” Harri took a deep breath and nodded. He closed his eyes and for a long minute, nothing happened. He started to wonder if she was even gonna do it before he felt her lips on his, unmoving and cold. It lasted for just a second before she pulled away. He opened his eyes and saw her frowning.
“Was that it?” he asked, his cheeks burning. Annie nodded. “That wasn’t much.”
She nodded again. “I don’t know why my uncle did that. Maybe he was only seeing what could happen.”
“I suppose so,” said Harri. “Let’s never do that again. Agreed?”
“Agreed,” said Annie.
Deleted member 147978
Harri Tudur and Anne Holland were cute and charming together huddled up reading Arthurian Tales. Talk about Late Medieval Goals. 
Anne of York thinks since her daughter is a great heiress, Edward will want his son to have her lands. I think she doesn't know her daughter couldn't care less about marrying her little cousin hahaha
January 1471.
January 1471. Windsor Castle, England.
Annie Holland had a blindfold wrapped around her eyes, hands stretched before her to feel where she was going as she walked around the nursery, trying to find her little cousins through the sound of their laughter. Five-year-old Prince Ned was kneeling behind an empty cot, a hand over his mouth to stifle his giggles. Four-year-old Magdalene was holding three-year-old Ceci’s hand, the two walking slowly behind their cousin as if they would scare her in a moment or two. The youngest of the royal children, two-year-old Dickon and one-year-old Catherine were not playing, merely walking before their cousin and waving their arms in an attempt to call her attention. Annie, knowing who they were, ignored them.
Duchess Cecily observed them with a smile on her face, seated by the window, her hands over her lap. She clapped when Annie’s feet hit the sides of Ned’s body, her little granddaughter exclaiming her cousin’s name loudly to announce she had found him.
Ned pouted, but stood up, twisting his lips as Annie untied the blindfold and wrapped it around his own eyes. He spun thrice and Annie skipped away, holding her skirts in one hand to keep it out of her path. Ceci let go of her sister’s hand and ran to be close to Cecily. “Grandmo-er,” she whispered, holding her arms up. “I’m tired.”
“Sit here next to me,” said Cecily and offered her little namesake a hand to help her climb on top of the chair next to her. Ceci grunted as she did so, but smiled, settling back on the chair. Cecily helped her adjust her pink skirts around her, her brown hair tucked under a white cap. Her granddaughter placed a hand on her arm, kicking her legs happily. “May I give you a kiss?” Ceci nodded and offered her cheek for her grandmother to kiss, which she did with a smile.
Cecily watched her granddaughter and namesake even as the game continued, Ned laughing loudly when he caught his younger sister. Magdalene cried out as one of the nurses helped Ned wrap the fold around her eyes, muttering about how unfair it was, but Cecily barely paid attention to her. She stroked Ceci’s face, pulling a loose curl back into her cap. “I love you,” her granddaughter said and Cecily smiled, pinching her cheek.
“And I love you,” she said. Ceci smiled, pleased and turned to the window, frowning slightly. Cecily followed her gaze and saw three young men on the pathway underneath it, walking and talking amidst the snowbanks. It was her son Richard, the Duke of Gloucester and his two companions, Francis Lovell and young Harri Tudor. The younger two were around the same height, both close to 5’5’’, whereas her son stood at 5’8’’.
“What are they doing?” Ceci asked, frowning. Harri and Francis stopped and Cecily could see from the way they bent their bodies back, mouths open that they were laughing. As a response, her son knelt on the floor and she watched as Francis jumped on his back, legs and arms wrapped tightly around Richard. Harri Tudor did the same, though this time on Francis, and the Duke of Gloucester wobbled upward, not even taking one step forward before he toppled.
But the three did not care. Harri fell on the floor, laughing, a hand on his stomach, and Francis rubbed at his certainly aching back. Richard was laughing too and Cecily smiled.
“They are just playing,” she told Ceci. Her granddaughter frowned.
“They are hurting Uncle Richard!” she called out, angry, and stood on the chair, knees wobbly. “Stop hurting, Uncle Richard!” Richard raised his head, frowning, and waved, barely hearing his niece.
Francis and Harri waved too before they pulled Richard away, continuing with their walk. Ceci, not satisfied, continued to shout, but Cecily pulled her hand, whispering a sharp reprimand. Her granddaughter twisted her lips, unhappy, but sat down, still kicking her legs, though this time she didn’t look as happy as before.
Cecily watched her with a slight scowl. Her son had mentioned a passing thought of marrying her into Denmark, but with the crown prince’s death, it would be difficult. Though, if King Christian had another son, they could see her granddaughter as Queen of the Kalmar Union. Since certainly, they would offer monetary support through a dowry to have the Oldenburgs regain the throne of Sweden.
Ceci had a strong personality and an intense desire to see everything and everyone be treated with fairness. Despite her young age, she was very protective of her family, as if she was the oldest of the royal children and not the third-born.
And because of it, and perhaps because they shared a name, she was Cecily’s favourite.