-𝑂𝑛𝑙𝑦 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑎𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑒𝑛𝑑 𝑜𝑓 𝑖𝑡 𝑎𝑙𝑙-
It's the year 1466 and King Edward IV is on the throne of England. His wife and Queen ,Elizabeth Woodville, has just given birth to her first daughter ,Lizzie, but not all is w...
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"For York! For King Richard! For Queen Marian!"
The cries of York men rang out all around her as Marian waded through the sea of bodies on Bosworth battlefield. Caked from head to toe in mud and blood, the sun beating down upon her making sweat trickle down her forehead, she looked for her husband's standard. After the first charge the King and Queen had been separated (from each other and from their horses) but had managed to keep close to allies; Richard with Francis, Marian with Rob.
"It still flies, Marian!" Rob yelled as he disembowelled another Tudor, the man's entrails spilling out of him onto the blood soaked ground as his eyes rolled into the back of his head and an agonising cry tore from his throat.
Her own standard bearer had been cut down long ago and there had been a momentary panic that the Queen was dead but she had luckily managed to get the men around her shouting that she lived before it was too late and the Yorkist lines broke.
As she drove her sword into the neck of another man, his warm blood spraying out onto the part of face which was left unguarded by her helmet, another cry of "For York!" Could be heard and Marian's heart leapt. She grinned. They were winning, she could feel it, just another half hour or so more and victory would be theirs! Pushing her victim to the ground, the Queen took a moment to look to her side, caught sight of the Stanley army. Northumberland had departed quite early on in the battle but Stanley had stayed...watching...waiting...plotting.
A wave of anger surged through Marian's veins and she let out a yell as another Tudor dared to cross her; ended up with his skull split in half and his brains sliding down his armour in less than ten seconds.
All around her the cries of dying men and the sound of metal against metal could be heard, the green grass that once lay on the ground like a lush blanket was now gone, churned up, to leave only dirt, by the fighting. York would prevail! The King and Queen would win that day and would ride home in triumph. The bells would ring out, bonfires would be lit, the streets would flow with ale and the people would sing merry tunes, dancing till dawn.
Marian could see the scene, was tempted to reach out and touch it but the sound of hooves thudding against the earth made her (and every one around her) turn at the speed of lightning.
"Stanley" Rob hissed from next to her and she saw that he was right. Stanley was making his move, was riding down the hill he had been watching from with his army, sword drawn. But he wasn't riding to aid the Yorks...no the standards he had had raised were not the murrey and blue ones, emblazoned with the White Rose. No, the standard he had raised was the Tudor's. "My God..." Marian whispered, eyes widening as she looked around her and felt the threat of loss for the first time. Could the York army really take on such a sudden violent assault? The battle had been raging for some time now, they had been separated...the Stanley army was still together.
"That fucking bastard!" She yelled and the York men around her nodded, shouting similar insults at the approaching soldiers.
"Look! Richard's standard!" Rob called, pointed in the direction of the King. His standard was dipping up and down, a signal for his knights to regroup and follow him. "They're going back up the hill! He can't be retreating!" "Richard would never run from the enemy!" Marian yelled back as she and Rob began to make their way across the battlefield, stopping to cut down an opponent every so often.
