Westminster Palace, London
Isabel stopped when she heard her niece's cries. She turned on her heels and went to discover what could have possibly caused the eight-year-old girl to cry. She came upon her standing, her tiny fists at her eyes, trying to rub the tears away. Edward was kneeling before her trying to comfort her.
"I am alright, my princess," the king said gently. "I know it looks bad, but I promise I am fine."
"But — you — got — hurt!" The little girl gasped out.
"It was just an accident in the battle," he assured her. "It isn't likely to happen again." He stroked the girl's ebony hair. "It doesn't hurt, I promise."
"But Grand-mèrè isn't here to kiss it better! And Mama — is — gone — so she can't kiss it !" Lily wailed.
"I have you," Edward said cheerfully. "I have no need of any other lady but you, my sweet girl."
Lily sniffed. "I can kiss it better?"
"I am sure my nose will feel as good as new if you kiss it better."
Lily sniffed again and pressed her tiny lips to her father's nose.
Edward scooped the girl into his arms and lifted her up. "A miracle!" he exclaimed. "I am reborn into a better knight!" Lily began to giggle. "We must keep it a secret, my girl, for your power is great and Europe is not ready for it."
Lily continued to giggle and wrapped her arms around the king's neck, looking very much like a daughter content in her father's arms and Isabel's heart ached, for her sister deserved to be here with her children.
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Charlotte felt sick and for the first time since she had found out she was with child, she knew for certain that it wasn't because of her pregnancy. The mahogany door in front of her not only seemed gigantic but also the sight of it filled her with dread.
Placing her hand upon her bump and feeling the flutters beneath her hand, she felt slightly comforted. The seconds seemed to go by agonizingly slowly but before she knew it, the doors began to open, signaling her entrance.
As she made her way into the great hall, she couldn't help but try and ignore the muttering and whispering coming from the people around her. Her walk faltered slightly as she registered what the people around her were calling her.
However, at the end of the Great hall, she not only noticed Richard standing next to Edward and Elizabeth but also George. Richard seemed to give her a reassuring smile, one that was becoming more familiar by the day.
Her protruding stomach made her usually graceful curtsey slightly unsteady and she needed to shift her legs a little before bending her knee, her skirts pooling around her as she looked up at Edward.
His smile faltered slightly as he realized just how uncomfortable she was. As much as he knew he had to make sure she was loyal to him, her swollen stomach reminded him of her condition and she saw his eyes harden slightly. No doubt he'd been angered by her father's plan, and it had likely hurt his pride, having to know she "married" someone else.
She only hoped the months apart hadn't changed him so much. She could only hope her father's actions before his death had not made him turn against her and her sisters. She could only hope that he would not harm her child.
Walking towards her, his smile still on his face, he spoke to her.
"Rise, Lady Charlotte," his voice made Charlotte let out a silent sigh of relief before she slowly rose from her curtsy, careful not to move too suddenly and disrupt her balance.
"I, Lady Charlotte Neville, do swear unto God that I will be loyal to the lawful and rightful King Edward the Fourth of the House of York and the heirs of his line. I do solemnly vow to be a true and faithful subject from this day, until my last day, upon fear of eternal damnation," she said smoothly, head held high.
With a sense of triumph, she acknowledges that despite all she suffered under Edouard, he did not manage to strip her of her pride.
"I'm sure you did not mean to betray me and I'm sure you will not do so again," Edward's words, although, were soft were also severe. Yet, she noticed he was trying not to laugh at the show they were being forced to put on. He well knew that she would have never married Edouard of her own volition.
"I didn't mean to betray you, Your Grace. I would never have set out to do that. I was only obeying my father as any dutiful daughter should do."
"I can see that. I'm sure you would like to be reunited with your sister," he told her, motioning to Isabel who was standing at the side.
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Lily curtsied to her future husband.
Her mother had not particularly cared for the betrothal. That might be putting mildly, if she was honest. She knew her mother detested the idea of her marrying Richard Grey. Yet, her father had been adamant that the marriage would go on ahead.
She lifted her head and found Richard Grey blushing. His face turned red and his lips were a firm line as though he could only do that to keep himself from saying something abrupt.
"Ce... My lady," he said bowing to her.
Lily blushed. "My lord."
"Lady Cecily."
When his gaze fell to her, Lily gave him another slight curtsy then took a few steps back. "My Lord."
"Dickon."
"Pardon?" Lily looked up at him, blinking in confusion.
"If we are to know each other intimately, you might call me by my name, Dickon," he hesitates, before he goes on. "I apologize for not allowing you to call me so in the past, but I think after the months in sanctuary, we are past the point of formalities, my lady."
His voice is coldly monotonous and Lily couldn't help but flinch slightly upon hearing the way he said it.
"Please forgive me, my Lady, for taking your time and accept my best wishes for your health and happiness," he said, bowing to her quickly before leaving her room.
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A few hours later, Edward entered Charlotte's room, where she was sitting on the bed, trying and failing to concentrate in a piece of embroidery.
At the sight of Edward, she immediately stood up, only to gasp loudly at the sight of her children.
"Mama!" Lily and Edmund yelled as they ran toward her and tears began to fill Charlotte's eyes.
She placed the embroidery down on the bed, just before allowing her elder children to run into her arms. She began to cry, seeing as though it had been more than a year since she last saw them.
Edward smiled at the sight, wasting no time walking over to the bed and setting William down, who immediately went on to settle himself at his mother's lap.
For the moment, they were just content to be together as a family.
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The silence between them grows awkward so fast Charlotte is desperate to crawl into a hole and die. She returns Edward's strong gaze with a weak one, and she is sure it is she who will break first.
Their children went to the nursery for a nap and she wishes she could've followed them.
"God, Charlotte," Edward sighs. "I don't know how to act around you like this."
Her stomach clenches painfully at the word. At the sound of her name on his lips. Charlotte. Her name never sounds as beautiful, unless it is he who is speaking
"What do you mean?" She whispers.
His green eyes latch onto hers so quickly it steals her breath away. "I must confess something to you," he says, very, very quietly.
"What?" she whispers, as he grows closer, heart pounding.
Her hands ache to touch him, to feel his skin against her own, but she does not move. She can feel her ghosts hovering nearby, waiting to break free when given the chance, and it takes all of her strength to keep them at bay.
"I was happy," he tells her, "When your husband died. It is rather unkingly of me, I know. But I felt only relief."
"So did I," she breathes. "God may curse me for it, but so did I."
Charlotte watches with bated breath as he lifts his free hand to her face. She knows not what to do with this sudden turn of events, wants to flee and stay at the same time. She observes his hand growing closer and her heart twists and turns and races till the point she feels nauseous.
"Charlotte," he breathes, placing his hand on her wrist as he moves closer. "Charlotte, I —"
Edouard.
Charlotte breaks away, stumbling as she does so. Her false husband returns with full force, grabbing and biting and scratching and bruising, and Charlotte can't breathe. She's back in France, lying on a bed as he forces his way between her thighs, pinning her hands above her head, thrusting into her like a broadsword. She's back to waking up to his rough handling, to being left bleeding on the sheets after he took his rights.
"Don't," she says sharply, when Edward tries to approach. "I...I still feel him sometimes. Inside me. Scratching at my skin. Pulling my hair. I can still feel what he did to me."
He falters, his hand twitching pathetically as it lingers mid-air.
"I am sorry," Edward says stiffly.
But Charlotte does not hear him, can only hear the roaring in her eyes and the rush of memories bombarding her, claiming her.
"It doesn't feel real, somehow," Charlotte's eyes were clouded over, dazed, uncomprehending when she eventually spoke. "That I'm free. That I'm here."
His heart tightened in his chest, a protective urge surging through his chest, robbing him of all logic.
"You're safe now," he vowed. He slowly leaned his forehead against hers, let his hands fall down to her shoulders when she didn't flinch away. "You're home, mon coeur. You're with me."
"Edward," she whispered. Her hands tightened on his tunic, gripped him tight and pulled him closer.
He kissed her forehead, her cheeks, her chin, her eyes, her hair, anywhere he could reach. His arms wrapped around her, held her close.
"Don't cry, Lottie," he whispered, once he felt wetness on his chest. "You're safe now."
"I'm happy," she told him. A small smile formed on her lips, one of such hesitance and wariness that it lacked any true warmth. "I'm happy," she repeated, as she swiped at her tears.