The Sunne in Splendour: A War of the Roses Timeline
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While you may be a bit too melodramatic every now and then, your writing is never "shite."
Melodramatic?While you may be a bit too melodramatic every now and then, your writing is never "shite."
February 1478.
February 1478. Shute Manor, England.
Edward leaned against the cold window, observing the snow slowly falling over the village as he waited for the hours to pass. He had his arms crossed, heart twisted and some passed through him, mindful of his order not to bother him until there was more news. It was a quiet day and almost no one was outside, fearful of dying or losing a limb because of the white blanket that had overtaken the world during the night.
He hadn’t been in Shute for years. Maybe even before he became king, when his cousin Katherine married into the Bonville family. Not even when Arthur married Baroness Harington did he come to visit his eldest son and his new daughter. Edward couldn’t remember exactly why but he imagined it was because Magdalena was with child again. He liked to stay in London whenever she entered her confinement, so he could meet his new son or daughter as soon as possible and see her, his wife, as soon as she was able.
He closed his eyes, but the image of his wife burned deep in his mind. Magdalena with her strength, her piety. She was better than him, more prepared, because unlike him, she had been raised to be a queen someday. Edward wanted to scoff at his younger self for ever considering the Countess of Pembroke to be a good wife material; she was beautiful, that was to be sure, but her behaviour when denied the chance of a crown told him all he needed to know about her personality. Even when rattled, Magdalena never let her true feelings show. She was a perfect queen.
And he ruined everything. He opened his eyes again. Isabella was once more with child. Nell was close to two years old, with reddish blonde hair and blue-green eyes. She was feisty, spunky and would be good as an older sister. Edward had bought a house in London for them to live in, paid everything for it himself and since he and Magdalena had separated, he spent most of his days there instead of governing. As far as he knew, the Queen was handling the duties of a king in his place.
He was selfish, but he was a king and a king never apologises.
Steps came behind him and Edward turned, seeing his wide-eyed son coming his way. Arthur had a flush rising on his cheeks, mouth slightly parted and the King straightened up to greet him.
“It’s a girl,” his son exclaimed as soon as he came close. “Cecily had a girl. I have a daughter.”
“Oh,” Edward said. He pulled his son into an embrace, tapping his back. “This is incredible, such good news.” He closed his eyes, the feeling of his heart bursting in joy in his chest. “Thanks be to the Lord.”
Arthur stepped back, eyes bursting with tears. He rubbed his cheeks, smiling broadly. “We decided to name her Eleanor, after my mother.”
Edward hesitated. He hadn’t thought of Eleanor Butler in many years, not since Arthur and Cecily got married and he had to invite the Talbots for the wedding as his son’s maternal family. There had been some rumours in the start of the decade that he and Eleanor had been married before her death, which would make his children by the Queen illegitimate and Arthur the true heir to the throne. Rumours such as those swirled around every so often, they existed when he married Magdalena though Eleanor was not the only one named in such scurrilous gossip. Elizabeth Woodville had also been mentioned as the true queen, or Elizabeth Lucy though she had already died by the time Magdalena came to England.
In regards to Eleanor, Edward knew it was not true, though the matter was somewhat muddled. Eleanor said she would never lay with him without marriage, and had voiced that decision before many witnesses, but Edward in his youth was very charming and handsome. It didn’t take long for her to enter his arms and when it happened, many had asked Edward if he had married her.
Of course, he didn’t. He never had that intention. Warwick taught him well. As a king, it was imperative that he marry a woman of good standing and connections like Magdalena. And Eleanor knew she was not his wife. She was still alive when Magdalena came to England, when she was crowned. If she saw herself as the true queen, surely she would have said so herself?
So he smiled and cupped Arthur’s cheek. “A beautiful name,” he said. “Your mother would be delighted.”
His son smiled, the colour rising on his face. He embraced Edward again, tightly. The King could feel the shaking in his son, the excitement for the birth of his daughter and the fear of a newly-made parent. Edward could even feel a mix of it deep in his chest. His first grandchild, the first in a new generation. It had taken quite a while for her to appear as Arthur and Cecily grew to know each other.
“I’m sorry it isn’t an Edward Harington like I promised, Father,” said Arthur when he stepped back again. “The next one shall be a boy, I swear.”
“Don’t worry about that, son,” said Edward. “Don’t you dare worry about that.”
--
Castelo de São Jorge, Portugal.
Ana held her head high as she walked into the private chambers of the Queen, well aware of the turmoil deep into her stomach. She didn’t enjoy having to pay deference to a girl of just sixteen and with a dubious legitimate such as Juana. Everyone at court expected them to become close friends, since they were of close age, but Ana couldn’t care less for her.
And seeing the girl in her rooms proved it to her even further. She was a small woman with mousy brown hair and blue eyes and a common long face, surrounded by her ladies. One was brushing her hair out while another played a lute in the corner. Juana raised her eyes to look at Ana with as much dignity and arrogance as she could muster, a small smile curling her thin lips when she curtsied.
“Senhora, thank you for coming here today,” she murmured, waving her women away. Ana straightened her knees, hands clasped before her. Juana had a distinct Castilian accent over her words, even though her mother was Portuguese born and bred and Ana wished for a fan so she could hide her face. The Queen pointed to an armchair with her small hand. "Please, sit."
Ana did so and as she moved, she felt her skirts move with her and Juana's thin eyebrows rose ever so slightly at it.
"You're with child," she murmured and Ana smiled, placing her two hands over the gentle growth in her belly, which was now the size of a large orange.
"Yes, Your Grace," said Ana. "The Prince and I have been blessed once more."
The corners of Juana's mouth quivered ever so slightly and Ana tried not to look smug, but she was sure she had failed. The Queen was her age and yet this would be Ana's second child, with Luís Afonso healthy and thriving, whereas Juana had none to boast of. It was nothing surprising considering the King had hardly stepped a foot inside Portugal since the War began.
"Dona Ana," said Juana, turning to one of her ladies. Ana de França recognized her as Ana de Mendonça, daughter of Nuno Furtado, one of the knights of Saint James, "I'd like some refreshments. Bring it now."
The girl in question, who couldn't be older than eighteen, stood up and curtsied before she left. Ana didn't pay much attention to her.
She looked back at Juana. In truth, one might wonder why Ana disliked Juana so much, but she didn't just dislike her. She hated her. The girl was nothing but a thorn at her side, arriving with her mother as a refugee after the death of the Castilian king when all eyes ought to have been on Ana and her child. Her presence caused a war that Portugal was losing, an entire diplomatic nightmare after she married her own uncle.
Her own lordly father would never have allowed it and Ana, being the principal envoy of France in Portugal, hated not having the power to cast her out.
"I hear the King, my husband is still in France," murmured Juana, awkwardly. "His Grace wishes to enter an alliance with your father, since France has experienced some hostilities against the Crown of Aragon."
Ana said nothing. France and Aragon had been at war for Rousillon for as long as she could remember, as well as the desire for hegemony in Italy. Her father had taught her all she needed to know about the conflict, since wherever she went as a wife, she'd be expected to turn her husband against the Aragonese Trastámaras. Not that João needed such encouragement, however.
Juana blinked, clearly expecting something from Ana, before she sighed and waved the woman caring for her hair away. “I would like for you to write to the King of France and convince him to accept my husband’s offer,” she said, placing her hands over her own stomach. It was clear that she tried to mimic Ana, but unlike her, there was no way Juana could be bearing a child. Unless, that was, if she was cuckolding her husband, though such a scandal would ruin her chances of ever becoming the Queen of Castile.
“My father can’t be convinced of anything he doesn’t want to already do, my lady,” said Ana. She smiled though, trying to appear friendly. “Though I, of course, can write a letter to him with my desire for an end to the war.” She wouldn’t, but the Queen didn’t have to know that.
“Yes, that would please me,” Juana answered and Ana stood up, curtsying once again.
“Then I take my leave, Your Grace,” said Ana and Juana said nothing, even though Ana was leaving without her permission. She quickly left the royal chambers, rolling her eyes when she turned her back to them.
But she stopped, however, when she saw her husband and Ana de Mendonça in the corridor before her. The lady-in-waiting was holding a jar of wine, smiling as she spoke to the Prince of Portugal as if he was an old friend. João, instead of reproaching her, was smiling back and Ana felt her heart break when she saw him touch the edge of her neckline, pretending to examine her crucifix.
She turned around and left the corridor without them noticing her.
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Sadly, yes. His wife is with child and he is a pretty 'Rights of the king' kind of men.
Poor Ana having to see her husband sleep around while she’s pregnant. And Edward’s really gonna have to swallow his pride and apologize sooner or later considering Magdalena’s efforts on behalf of him and their children.
So I guess this means Jorge de Coimbra will be born in this timeline as well?
Isabella is currently pregnant, but Edward also thinks back to a time where Madeline was pregnant. I am fairly certain that she is not pregnant atm
She is NOT. The last time they had sex was when Lionel was conceived.
Ooh nice to see that Edward is at least self aware of his failings, and that Ana is pregnant again too. I do wonder if Juana may have played a role in encouraging the relationship between Mendonça and Joao?