Chapter Text
June 24, 1486
France
Everything had been so much more peaceful when his father was alive. Or at least that’s how King Edward remembered it. According to his half-brother, Thomas Grey, England was very much in turmoil in those days as well. His Uncle George had sought to steal the crown from his father, and the Cousin War was still ongoing. However, Edward felt that at least back then, they had still had his father with them. His younger Uncle Richard stood by his father's side as his fiercest ally.
In the three years that followed his father’s death, Dowager Queen Elizabeth Woodville had fled to France with her children, Uncle Richard had declared himself King of England, and he had insisted that his nieces and nephews were illegitimate. It was Henry Tudor who had become Edward’s unlikely ally in getting his crown back from his traitorous uncle.
After spending three years in France, it was finally time to return to England to reclaim what was his. Edward, who was not even sixteen yet, was eager to fight for his birthright.
“Out of the question. You have no battle experience, and you will only get yourself killed,” the Earl of Richmond said irritably, as if the mere idea of Edward riding into battle alongside him was completely stupid.
“Just because you are married to my sister does not give you the right to be rude to your king,” Edward snapped, appalled at Henry’s insolence.
When Henry arrived at the French palace and sworn an oath of loyalty to King Edward V, he and Elizabeth of York had fallen in love with each other. After Henry had sworn an oath in front of witnesses to renounce his claim to the English throne, Edward had given him permission to marry Princess Elizabeth of York pledging to make Tudor a duke once they returned to their home.
“With all due respect, Your Majesty, right now, Richard is King of England," Henry lectured. "That won’t change if we don’t have experienced men winning this war. Besides, I promised Elizabeth I would protect her brothers from harm."
“Not to mention your family especially your mother would prefer you stayed alive,” King Charles VIII of France pointed out, his expression uncharacteristically serious.
Because they were the same age, and they had both gained their thrones at a young age, Charles and Edward had become fast friends which was remarkable considering that their countries had been fighting for a century before England was distracted by their civil war.
Edward nodded at Charles’ words, his heart clenching at the thought of the members of his family that he had lost in the past six years. Most recently, his half-brother Richard Grey and the last two of his maternal uncles were executed by the so-called King Richard III.
“Now that we have established that Your Majesty will be staying in France until your uncle is defeated, let’s move on,” Henry did not want to waste any more time on something he viewed as trivial. “I know from my mother that both my stepfather and the Earl of Northumberland have agreed to switch sides ad they will rally their troops against the usurper.”
“I am surprised that the Lady Derby has agreed to this considering her high ambitions for you." There was a trace of suspicion in Edward's voice. "Does she think you will steal the crown from me once you have defeated my uncle?” After all, once he disposed of Richard of Gloucester, what was stopping Henry from declaring himself king?"
“If I wanted you dead, I would let you ride in front of the army with a crown on your head as you are sure to get yourself killed,” Henry pointed out bluntly. “This war has gone on long enough. It is time the Houses of York and Lancaster stood together instead of fighting each other.”
“As long as you don’t try to start the Hundred Year war all over again after defeating the usurper, I completely agree with that sentiment,” Charles jested with a smile, causing the two Englishmen to fix him with a rather annoyed look.
“It baffles me how your brother and King Charles are such good friends,” Henry remarked as he watched Charles and Edward practicing archery from the window of his and Elizabeth’s bedchamber. “One is paranoid, determined, and serious while the other is easygoing, affable, and childish.”
“I think it’s nice that it won’t be just Cecily who binds our two countries together,” Elizabeth said sweetly, thinking how wonderful it was that despite the fact that her Uncle Richard had declared her, and her siblings illegitimate, King Charles had still insisted on marrying Cecily, even threatening to abdicate if his council refused to allow them to be wed.
“We can only pray that our peace treaty is not broken by future generations,” voiced Richmond as he sat down next to his knitting wife.
It wasn’t just the future generations of French Kings he was worried about. King Edward was due to marry Anne of Brittany once he had reclaimed his throne and the girl turned fourteen. Once he had sons with her, he would continue the Yorkist rule over England---something Lady Margaret Beaufort would be unhappy about as would the rest of the Lancastrian loyalists.
What if Henry’s sons with Elizabeth decided to follow their Lancastrian forefathers and try to unseat the House of York, causing yet another Cousin War? He meant it when he said he wanted to unite the cadet branches of the House of Plantagenet, but his descendants might not be so willing to be peaceful.
“Henry, is everything all right?” Elizabeth inquired putting her knitting down, laying a hand on his arm.
“Everything’s fine. I’m just thinking about the upcoming battle,” Henry told her, his eyes traveling down to her belly, and he put his hand on top of it. “I wish that I didn’t have to miss the birth of our first child.”
As if the child knew that he or she was being talked about, it kicked its leg against its mother’s belly, allowing Henry to feel a thump against his hand.
“Soon the three of us will be together in England,” Elizabeth assured him, kissing his cheek before she lightly touched her swollen belly. “Us and little Jasper or Margaret Tudor.”
The corner of Henry’s lips twitched upwards at the thought of honoring his beloved mother or the uncle who raised him. He would win the war and give Elizabeth’s brother back his crown. Then he, his wife and his children could live in peace.
Henry was perfectly fine being the Duke of Richmond and the King’s most trusted advisor. Not to mention, he would go down in history as the man who won the crown and had given it to its rightful heir instead of keeping it for himself. He would be known as a kingmaker.
Unlike the unfortunate Earl of Warwick, Richard Neville the previous Kingmaker, he would not waver in his support, accepting that his place was beside the throne instead of on it.
August 9, 1486
By now, the ships carrying Henry’s army would have landed in Wales, provided that the seas were as calm as the river looked from behind the window of the French palace. If the waters of the English channel were bad and the ships were lost at sea, Edward would not know until it was too late. Anything could happen to his army and the King of England was helpless to do anything about it. He was a weak king who let other men do his dirty work.
“Ned, are you scared?” Dickon asked as he stood next to his older brother.
“Kings don’t get scared,” Edward replied, trying to sound confident. He was no longer a little boy anymore. He was almost sixteen years old and on the cusp of his manhood. His days of childhood innocence had ended the day his father died.
“We might be kings, Ned. However, we are human all the same,” opined Charles, as he stood on Edward’s other side. His expression oddly thoughtful.
“Mother doesn’t trust the Duke of Richmond,” Richard said suddenly. “She thinks he will betray us. But I think he loves our sister too much to do that.”
“It’s not just Elizabeth, Dickon, Henry’s been in the middle of our civil war before either of us were even born. While sometimes I can’t help but wonder if he’ll someday decide I’m not a worthy king, I do know that he truly believes that this war of England needs to end,” Edward explained.
“I won’t let that happen. If anyone tries to say you’re not worthy, I’ll fight them,” Richard declared, a determined look on his face.
Edward beamed at his younger brother. Although he knew they had other allies, there were times when he felt like it was just him and Richard against the world.
“I just wish that we would be back in England in time for your birthday, Dickon,” Edward remarked, wrapping his arm around his brother’s shoulder.
“Oh, I don’t mind. It means we can have one last celebration in France,” Richard pointed out. “That way we won’t be so sad to say goodbye to everyone.”
“I can promise you both that we shall have a grand feast to send you off the night before you return to England,” Charles assured them. “A fitting reminder of how our two countries are now allies to the end.”
Edward smiled at his friend, realizing that he would miss the optimistic, and jovial king when he was left for England.
August 30, 1486
England
It had taken a while for the news to reach France that the Duke of Gloucester was dead, his allies were imprisoned, and it was time for the children of Elizabeth Woodville to return to England.
According to Edward’s half-brother, Thomas Grey, it was thought to be symbolic that Richard had worn his stolen crown to battle and when he was killed, it was taken from his head, ready to be returned to its rightful owner---once it had been properly cleaned of course.
Cecily and the heavily pregnant Elizabeth were to stay behind in France---although once her baby was old enough to travel, the soon-to-be Duchess of Richmond would return to England to be with her husband and family members.
When Edward arrived on the English shores, there was a crowd of people standing on the beach waiting for him.
Henry stood in front of the nobles who had fought against the usurper, holding St. Edward’s crown in his hands. He waited until Edward was standing just a few feet in front of him before he kneeled and held out the crown.
“Your Majesty, I believe this belongs to you,” he proclaimed, giving the teenager a rather warm smile.
“Thank you, Your Grace, you are a true knight of the realm,” Edward stated gravely, trying to suppress the gleeful side of him.
The Marquess of Dorset took the crown from Henry and placed it on Edward’s head. “Behold the true King of England has returned to us!” Thomas Grey announced. “All hail King Edward the Fifth.”
The cheers from the crowds were deafening and Edward was suddenly glad to be home.
September 19, 1486
France
Her husband and her brother could not be more different. From the letters she had received from her mother, sisters, and dear Dickon, Edward, despite not being of age, had thrown in himself into the state affairs determined to be a man instead of the boy king he was when he first took the throne.
Charles on the hand preferred dancing and drinking rather than actually being king. While most called him Charles the Affable, Cecily could not help but think that Charles the Fool would a more appropriate moniker for him. Not that she would dare say so aloud.
Besides, it really didn’t matter what she thought of him as she was his queen, and someday she would give him an heir. Just recently she had learned that she was with child and prayed that she was carrying a son.
“Your husband fought a war while you were pregnant while mine will probably be off drinking and jousting,” Cecily jeered to Elizabeth while they were alone.
“Cecily,” Elizabeth hissed, staring at her sister in horror. “That’s your husband you are talking about. He loves you. The least you could do is show him some respect.”
“I’ll respect him when he earns it,” Cecily said snidely. When her sister let out a pained gasp and clutched her stomach, Cecily’s expression turned from derision to worry. “Lizzie, are you well? Should I fetch the midwife?”
"My water just broke,” Elizabeth said, a smile on her face. “It seems that my baby is coming early.”
At once the Queen of France summoned a midwife and her sisters’ ladies to help with the birth of her niece or nephew.
Almost twenty-four hours passed before Elizabeth’s labor was over, and a baby was placed into her arms.
“You have given birth to a boy, sweet sister,” Cecily told her, pleased that she got to be there for oldest sister when she gave birth, knowing she would not be able to do the same for any subsequent nephews and nieces nor would they be around for her when she had her own children. “A healthy boy.”
“His name will be Jasper after Henry’s uncle,” Elizabeth decided, kissing the top of her son’s head.
“The Duke of Richmond will be pleased,” Cecily remarked, grimacing as she realized that the newborn’s grandmother would be just as happy----for an entirely different reason.
While Edward and Richard remained heirless, Lady Margaret could always try to convince Henry that God wanted the Tudors to rule instead of the House of York. Right now, the new Jasper Tudor would no doubt be his kingly uncle’s favorite nephew. However, someday he could prove to be Edward’s deadly enemy.
Cecily shuddered and put a protective arm around her sister and her new nephew, half-wishing she could protect them both from whatever treason they might find themselves to be caught in the middle of.
September 27, 1486
England
Despite taking his duties as co-regent very seriously, and being dedicated to helping England become stabilized again, the Duke of Richmond had not wasted any time after receiving Elizabeth's letter from France to ask permission to sail to Calais so he could be with his wife and newborn son.
Edward had granted it readily enough, believing that he and Thomas could handle the first privy council session.
First were King Richard’s supporters. Despite knowing Edward was alive and Henry Tudor was fighting for him, Suffolk and Norfolk had stood by him, fighting against the true king’s army.
“Your Majesty, if I may, the Duke of Norfolk and his son are loyal to the crown, and I know from my conversations with the duke that he truly thought that a boy king would bring England to ruins. I believe that he was simply misguided, and his son will prove himself to be a loyal subject,” Henry Percy spoke up, ignoring the glares being sent his way.
“Do you believe the same can be said of the de la Poles?” Edward inquired, wondering if his cousins had a similar opinion.
“I am afraid that I have not spoken to them but considering Suffolk’s steadfast loyalty to the House of York, I would not be surprised if he agreed with Norfolk.”
“Their motives are unimportant. They conspired against the true king," John de Vere reminded, looking outraged that these two dukes might escape punishment. "They should receive the same punishment as the rest of the usurper’s followers,”
“Not to mention, the Duke of Suffolk’s sons have as much Plantagenet blood in their veins as Your Majesty and His Highness the Duke of York, if we allow them to live…” the Earl of Derby trailed off when he saw the king’s glare.
Edward grimaced. “I am not going to kill my cousins for no other reason aside from the fact that they are my cousins. That being said, the Duke of Suffolk and his oldest two sons have chosen to side against me, and they do deserve to die a traitor’s death. As for the other two boys, they shall remain unmolested under the guidance of my aunt however they will not be able to obtain their father’s title of Suffolk or their brother’s title of Earl of Lincoln.”
William and Richard de la Pole were not even ten yet, and a part of Edward felt sorry for them. He vowed that when they were older, he would grant William a title of at an earl, but for now it was best if he let them lay low until he could marry them to daughters of courtiers he could trust.
His Uncle George’s son and daughter were wards of his brother Thomas. The Earl of Warwick would marry Edward’s half-niece Dorothy Grey while the Earl’s sister Margaret would marry Sir Richard Pole. As for the young Duke of Buckingham whose father had rebelled against King Richard only to die for it, Edward decided that he should marry his younger sister Catharine of York.
With his sister Anne marrying the future King of Scots, and his youngest sister Bridget becoming a nun, that would leave only the Duke of York without a spouse, and Edward would be sure to look hard for a suitable bride of his little brother.
“Well, that settles the matter of the de la Poles. What of the Howards?” Thomas Stanley asked, sounding almost casual as though he wasn’t asking if Edward was planning to increase the number of men fated to die as traitors to the realm.
“They shall retain the Earldom of Surrey, and if they continue to be loyal to me, I shall consider returning the dukedom of Norfolk to them,” Edward decreed. After all, John Howard might have fought against the crown, but he had sent a warning to Elizabeth Woodville days after the former Duke of Buckingham had taken the two princes from the tower and sent them to France for safety that she and her daughters would be arrested if they did not flee as well.
“So be it. With the death of the Duke of Gloucester's supporters, we can put behind the reign of the usurper once and for all,” Thomas Grey proclaimed. “We shall burn away the past and the reign of King Edward the Fifth can start anew.”
“Ahem to that.”
“Speaking of my reign,” Edward began, his lips twitching upwards before sobering. “I wish to discuss the line of secession as my wedding day not for another six years. I think it would be prudent to draw up a document now in case I die before my time.” He could tell that his words unnerved his councilors. Regardless, he pressed on, knowing that this was too important to put off. “If I die without any heirs my brother Richard is to succeed me and after his children, it shall go down to my sister Elizabeth and any of her children. Then to my sister Catherine and any children she should have. Past them the crown shall be passed down to my cousins starting with the Earl of Warwick and his sister.”
Edward was so focused on what he was saying that he missed a crafty look on the Earl of Northumberland’s face.
Meanwhile, the Countess of Derby was watching the Dowager Queen as she played with her youngest children in the gardens with narrowed eyes. There were so many stories about Elizabeth Woodville, about how she was a witch who had cursed her enemies and bewitched the king,
Margaret doubted that as the silly chit seemed about as threatening as a kitten. She had simply gotten lucky that the late King Edward was a fool for a pretty face, choosing to marry her and raise her family high, something that turned his brother and friend against him.
The late King Edward and his queen were weak. Margaret had no doubt that their sons were weak as well. Henry might have decided to play nice, but eventually the Woodville’s brat would cave under the pressure, and he and his brother would be easily unseated by their cousin.
From all reports despite being born a month early, the newest Jasper Tudor was hale and healthy. God willing, he would grow into a fine man and hopefully he would listen to his grandmother and do what his father was unwilling to do, take back the crown of England for the Lancastrians.
Elizabeth Woodville must have felt someone was watching her because she turned around and looked up until her eyes met Margaret’s icy ones.
Both women stared at each other, unwilling to tear their eyes from each other, the same determined expression on their faces. Neither would back down.
The Duke of York tugged at his mother’s sleeve, wanting her to return to their game. Elizabeth turned away from the woman in the window, putting a protective arm around her son’s shoulders. She walked away with him, throwing a meaningful look at Margaret as she did so.
“Oh, I know you won’t give up, dear,” Margaret whispered, half-wishing that her rival could hear her words from so far away. “The thing is I won’t rest until the House of Tudor replaces the House of York and takes their rightful place on the throne of England.”
October 11, 1486
When the Duke and Duchess of Richmond returned from France with the Earl of Pembroke, they settled down in the Palace of Sheen which King Edward had given them as a belated wedding gift.
After the execution of their father and older two brothers, William and Richard de la Pole were sent to live with the Duke and Duchess of Richmond once they had returned to France. They were not the only wards of Henry Tudor. He had also taken in Charles Brandon, son of William Brandon who had died saving Henry’s life.
“His mother will be Jasper’s nursemaid, so it only makes sense that he lives here as well,” Henry said when his wife questioned Charles Brandon’s presence in the nursery. “Besides, he can be Jasper’s companion when he grows older just like William and Richard."
Elizabeth smiled sadly at the mention of her poor cousins. While she certainly understood why the Duke of Suffolk had to die, she couldn’t help but think that considering the fact that John and Edmund were barely adults, they had barely participated in the battle of Bosworth Field against her husband.
A page came in, interrupting her thoughts, “Your Grace, the Countess of Derby is at the gates."
Henry sighed. They had barely been in England for a day and already his mother had arrived no doubt to inspect her grandson.
“We should go greet her, or we shall never hear the end of it,” he muttered, extending his arm for his wife to take, signaling for Mistress Brandon to carry Jasper behind them as they walked out of the nursery and down to the great hall.
They didn’t have to wait long for Lady Margaret Beaufort to arrive and when she did, she embraced her son lovingly.
“Oh, my darling son, I have missed you so,” she gushed not even bother to greet Elizabeth with anything more than a nod of her head. “I’m glad you have returned home. Where is my beamish grandson? I have been waiting so long to finally meet him.” Her eyes lit up when Henry beckoned Mistress Brandon forward and she quickly snatched him from his nursemaid’s arms. “Oh, he is a darling boy. He already looks quite clever and handsome."
Had she not possessed an ounce of decorum, Elizabeth might have snorted. Jasper was not even a month-old. Yet, Lady Margaret was talking about him as though he was already walking and talking, ready for the schoolroom.
“I hope my brother will love him half-as much as you do,” Elizabeth said, her voice sickly-sweet with an innocent smile plastered on her face.
Although he had his christening ceremony in France, Elizabeth had still made Edward one of Jasper’s godfathers with King Charles being the other godfather. Cecily and Lady Margaret were both Jasper’s godmothers.
“Oh, I’m sure he will. After all, unless he and his brother have sons, little Jasper here is the next in line to the throne,” Margaret informed her, her smile wide and her eyes gleaming as if Edward had declared that Jasper was to be the next Prince of Wales, instead of him simply being third in line behind his uncle and mother.
There was a part of Henry that did wonder what it would be like if his wife’s brothers died, and she was declared queen regent. As he was also in line to the throne, they could both be rulers in their own right much like Queen Isabella and King Ferdinand.
Despite his exasperation at his mother’s ambitions, he couldn’t help but think King Henry the Seventh and Queen Elizabeth the First would be a rather nice symbol that much like the now united country of Spain, England was ruled by the House of Plantagenet united once again.
However, he would not be so foolish as to make such wishes especially in front of people who could run to the King and thusly destroying the trust the young lad had in him. Quite honestly, his years in France had made him rather fond of Edward and it would hurt if the boy grew weary of him.
“I’m sure that Anne of Brittney and whoever the Duke of York marries will keep the Plantagenet line going strong,” he said firmly. “God will bless the king with many healthy heirs, I’m sure.”
Margaret scoffed as she handed her grandson back to his nursemaid, waving her hand to dismiss the servants who waited until their master nodded to leave the three people alone. “Anne of Brittney will not be of age for another six years and considering the fact that her mother has yet to birth a healthy boy who knows what sort of children she’ll bear if she even can,” she hissed. “Trust me, my son, it is God’s will that you be king of England, I’ve known it since you were a child.”
Elizabeth opened her mouth, furious that Margaret would say something like that about her future sister-in-law, the future queen of England no less. But she closed it when Henry lightly touched her arm, stilling her anger.
“You know, Mother, I’ve always found it interesting how often God’s will matched your own,” Henry remarked, his tone chilly.
He loved his mother more than anyone in this world, but he would not commit treason just because she believed he should be king.
Besides, if it truly were God’s will that he be a monarch, he would wait until King Edward and Prince Richard died of natural causes with no heirs. He would let things take their course and see where the land lay. If he was to be the ruler of England, then he would be. If not then, being the power behind the throne was good enough for him.
November 2, 1486
“Is it just me or has every courtier brought their daughters for my birthday?” King Edward asked, slightly perplexed as it was usually the sons that came in hopes that they would integrate themselves with the king’s inner circle, becoming his friends and companions.
Unfortunately, Edward was not as outgoing as his father and those who were his favorites were either part of his family or were trusted friends of his family. Perhaps nobles and gentlemen had hoped that their daughters would succeed where their sons had not. Although he couldn’t quite understand why anyone would think daughters would be…oh.
Oh!
“Interesting choice of words. They certainly are hoping that you will pick what they brought to please you on your birthday,” Thomas laughed, causing their mother to glare at him.
Edward’s cheeks were already heating up, and he became completely flushed at the double meaning behind his half-brother’s words.
“I think they are just hoping that you will be like your father, and take a mistress,” Elizabeth Woodville whispered, patting her son’s arm. “After all, you won’t be married for another six years.”
Thomas shook his head, knowing the true reason. “Not quite, Mother, if rumors are to be believed there are many nobles who are actually hoping that Ned will be exactly like his father and spurn the French Princess for an English bride."
“And when exactly did you learn of this?” questioned the young king, guessing that these rumors started shortly after Act of Succession was made. "And why did you not inform me of it."
After all, despite Henry’s loyalty, as long as Edward remained sonless, baby Jasper was technically a threat and therefore it was plausible that his courtiers would be under the impression that a Prince of Wales was needed sooner rather than later.
“I didn't want to bother you with foolish gossip,” Thomas defended himself, waving his hand dismissively. “Besides, I doubted it would even work.”
“You should have told me,” Edward said annoyed, his gaze darting around the room. He suddenly felt like there were too many people in the room. Was it just him or was it becoming suffocating in here? “I’m going to get some air.”
Not caring that everyone was looking at him when he suddenly stood up and walked out of the banquet hall and into an antechamber. Let them celebrate without him for the time being, he needed some time by himself.
With a fur cloak wrapped tightly around him, he went outside, not caring about the cold or the snow. His grooms did not speak as they trailed behind him, and if it weren’t for their boots crunching the snow, Edward might have fooled himself into thinking that he was completely alone.
They must have been keeping their distance for they did not notice a group of children that were just around the corner, nor did they see the snowball that was flying towards their king. In their defense, he did not see it either until the snowball hit his face.
“Oh, look what you did, Ali! You just attacked the king!” someone shouted.
“Yes, and I’m sure my brother is going to throw her in the tower for hitting him with a snowball,” Dickon muttered sarcastically as he, Annie and Cathy ran over to the teenaged king who was had lost his balance, falling backwards onto the ground.
As he dusted the snow off his doublet, Edward’s grooms ran over to help him up, looking as though they weren’t sure whether to be horrified or amused at what had just occurred.
Glancing over the group of children, Edward realized that aside from his brother, younger sisters, and cousins, there were also a few offspring of nobles. He noted that there seemed to be no adults around, supervising the children which was quite odd.
The oldest of the group---aside from Dickon---was a thirteen-year-old girl. From the guilty look on her face, the king could guess that she had been the one to throw the snowball.
“Dickon, before I ask you to introduce me to your friends, I would love to know why you all are out here by yourself,” Edward ordered, speaking in a stern voice which he had heard his mother use so many times whenever they were bold.
“It’s my fault, cousin,” the Earl of Warwick spoke up before Dickon could. “I found a secret passageway leading out of the castle through a side door. When I told Dickon about it, he wanted to use it to escape our governess who thought we would be visiting the Percy children."
Edward decided that he was going to have a very long talk with the women who were supposed to be in charge of these children. Before that, he would find out where this passageway was and make sure that it was sealed off so no one with less altruistic motives used it to break into the castle.
“Ned, will you come play with us?" Cathy implored him, grabbing his hand, and giving him the saddest eyes, he had ever seen. The seven-year-old manipulative little imp even had her lip quivering. "The teams are uneven, but now that you are here, you can play on our team. Please play with us!”
“Cathy, Ned’s not going to play with us. He’s a king. Kings don’t waste their time with childish games, right?” Dickon turned towards his brother with hope in his eyes. The monarch had a gut feeling that the Duke of York hoped that his brother would prove him wrong and agree to their younger sister’s plea.
Edward stared at all three of his siblings, realizing for the first time that he was not much older than them and yet he had been so busy trying to act like a good king that he had never realized that they might miss playing with him.
Four years ago, he had been playing all sorts of games with his siblings, carefree and happy like the child he was instead of having to be a man with responsibilities. Already people thought he would be fancying women like he would fancy a fine wine. In six years, he would be married, and he would have even more duties and responsibilities.
He had to grow up and take his responsibilities seriously, but today, he didn’t want to.
Today, he wanted to be a boy again. He wanted to be far away from politics and the intrigues of the court. Today, he wanted to here, playing in the snow.
After all, it was his birthday, so why shouldn’t he get a break?
“All right. However, I don’t want anyone to go easy on me,” Edward declared, scooping up a handful of snow and throwing at his brother.
Dickon never looked happier as he, Annie, Warwick, and the Percy girl began to gather their own snowballs to counterattack while Edward, Cathy, Cousin Margaret, and Hal Percy the younger did the same.
Tomorrow, Edward would be the sixteen-year-old king, eager to prove himself and fearful that he would make a mistake.
Today, he was as carefree as he had been when his father was alive.