White Rose and Red Heart
Author's Note: Hello all, here's a one-shot for the BBC's interpretation of Philippa Gregory's White Queen. It's not meant to be an accurate and fool-proof portrayal of Richard, Duke of Gloucester, or Anne Neville, since no one really knew them personally, such a thing is impossible. This is just MY portrayal of the Richard/Anne relationship, based on episode 6 of the White Queen. I hope you enjoy!
Disclaimer: I do not own Richard of Gloucester or Anne Neville (I would be a very powerful man if I did!), and nor do I own Philippa Gregory's White Queen or Kingmaker's Daughter.
Please read and review.
Contains references of violence, war, death and enslavement.
"Your Grace?" squeaked the blonde maid, shyly knocking on the ajar door to my study, as I looked up from my intriguing reading.
"Yes, Faye, can I help you?" I answered warmly. Faye seemed a little more at ease once I flared a smile, and she blushed before clearing her throat. Most people in the noble houses are quick tempered with servants, making them terrified of their masters. However, I have always disapproved of such behaviour and made it my personal promise to not be like that.
"I have a message for you, from Lady Anne Neville," Faye giggled, placing a note on the desk and curtsying, before scuttling back to the door. I could tell that she was being a little nosy and wanted to see my expression as I read the note.
"Lady Anne?" I frowned slightly, my smile fading. I rose with the note in my hand and opened it, my heart beating with anticipation.
Richard, please meet me in the garden by the wall lilies tonight.
Anne
A sudden sinking feeling dunked within me. The ominousity of the note burned in the air as I folded the note again, looking at Faye glancing excitedly at me.
"Thank you for giving me this, Faye," I said. "Now, you must swear that you will not say a word of this to anyone!"
Faye nodded urgently. "I swear."
"Good, you may leave." She exited the room at once, sensing the graveness of my voice.
I looked out of the window, the darkened sky towered above the ground and a few drops of the winter snowflakes had begun falling on the window sill.
I fastened my sword on my hip and put on my long dark green cloak over my navy blue tunic. I hurried out of my study, heart racing with fear.
What was the matter? Why had she decided to meet me tonight? I was surprised to hear that Anne had passed me a note, which could either be a good thing or bad, especially since I had taken a joke too far and upset her the last time we had spoken.
I hurried across the deserted hallways of the deserted castle, or at least it seemed to
"Richard!" called a woman's voice. I turned to see the Queen, striding towards me with a stitch in her side.
"Elizabeth," I acknowledged, smiling politely and stopping.
"Have you seen the King?" she asked.
"Not since dinner, your Grace," I replied, before continuing my journey, but she had stopped me.
"Is he with her?" Elizabeth demanded. "He is , is he not?"
"Your Grace, I swear I do not know, but when I see him, I will tell him to find you," I said impatiently and jogged out of view before she could say another word. I did not know whether my brother was now deciding to bed Jane Shore, after falling head over heels for Elizabeth Woodville and marrying her against the wishes of our cousin Warwick, thus creating a war. Unlike most days, today I did not care; there was something way more important on my mind.
I stepped out into the chilly grounds, a breeze blowing lightly in my hair. I hurried to the wall of the fragrant white lilies and sat on the wall of the wooden domed gazebo, shifting to keep myself warm under the cold sky.
Anne was nowhere to be seen and I began to fidget uncomfortably and rock back and forth, as if in desperate prayer. She had asked to meet me, so what was amiss? Why was she not here? I double checked to make sure I was in the right place; I had to be as this was the only lily wall in the garden.
Had my brother, George of Clarence, intercepted her? I scolded myself for thinking like that, but my survival instinct told me it was possible. No, I would wait a little longer.
Her father had traded her in marriage to Margaret of Anjou's son, Edward of Lancaster. I knew that arranged marriages were normal and even expected with the nobility; however, the fact that anyone, especially Anne, could be married off like chattel in a political deal, with no regard for her happiness or whether the groom would be a good husband did not sit well with me at all. I had met Lancaster with my vanguard at Tewkesbury. The way he treated and spoke to his own men, surprised me and I do not want to repeat what I had heard. I hoped that he had been kinder to Anne, as my vanguard defeated his unit and he was slain. But it seems that I was wrong, as when I ordered my men to lay off the Dowager Princess Anne, she seemed almost happy to see me, and my face lit up to see her alive, healthy and as sweet as I remember. She seemed to feel no sadness as she rode back to London under my care, unlike Margaret of Anjou, who had eventually wailed with sorrow, her tough exterior falling like the walls of Jericho, when she heard of her son's death.
Clarence had then been appointed her guardian, a title so ironic as he was only interested in guarding his own interests- to inherit her part of the Warwick fortune when Anne's mother dies. He had been keeping her as a slave, like a prisoner and an infected animal, lest she should speak and expose him.
I had looked at Anne in those lovely blue eyes and promised her safety, but this was not safety. I had tried to speak to Clarence, but he had viciously threatened me to stay away from Anne Neville. But how could I? I had broken my promise to her and still not approached the King to release her from George.
For a moment I thought that she had come and not seen me, as I was held up with Elizabeth; and left thinking that I had abandoned her. That thought terrified me; had I failed her again?
But my fear was premature, as I saw a figure in green tunic robes run into view, lifting up her hem and breathing frantically.
"Anne!" I called, rising.
"Richard!" she cried. Her voice was high, her face paler than its usual pink, her light brown hair was tied back, revealing her exposed meadow of a forehead. Her eyes were fearful and flaring with questions, that I wanted to provide the answer for.
"Richard, oh, Richard!" she gasped.
I walked up to her and held her shoulders to steady her, for a millisecond she looked at me but looked down, still breathing heavily. "Anne, tell me what's the matter?"
"George wants to put me in a nunnery!" she cried. "I spoke to him about remarriage, I crossed him and I should not have! And now he will send me away and lock me up forever, I will never see my mother, my home or Issy again!" Anne was starting to weep as she spoke very fast.
"Anne, George will not hasten to do what he has threatened," I warned. I knew how shrewd and cunning my brother was. He would punish this girl purely because she had the nerve to ask a question; she did not deserve that, she was a sweet and kind hearted girl, and she was terrified at the way her fate was turning out. All because of me; I should have acted earlier, I should have talked to Edward sooner, this was my fault. There were two solutions left, both were mad, but I had to give them to her.
"I don't know what to do, Richard!"
"I know," I said. "Anne, it seems that running away may be the only option." That was a lie, but I had to give her my least favourite one first; my favoured one may not be hers.
"Yes, then I will run away," Anne assented."Would you help me, please?"
"Anne, this isn't a light choice, you must be sure, life as a runaway will be far from easy or anywhere near the joy you deserve!' I said, sinking slightly at her choice.
Anne chuckled and blushed. "Thank you, Richard, but I am no longer the little girl you used to play with any more. I have grown up and realised that there is no such thing as happiness or bliss, not really, however much I want there to be. I learned from Margaret of Anjou that sometimes I have to see what's best for myself and take it without fear."
"Anne..." I croaked, my heart beating and almost falling from a knife edge to shatter. I had to tell her what I wanted and not fear the reproach, as this could be my last chance. I saw the way her face shone when she saw me, when we talked and how unhappy she was giving in to the tyrant king that is cynicism; I remembered how hurt and disappointed she was when I joked about marrying Margaret Beaufort for her wealth today. Of course, I had immediately declined her offer, for obvious reasons, but just wanted to see how Anne reacted. Right now, my heart was racing as I summoned up the courage. At eighteen, I had led the vanguard at two battles and helped secure victory; I was regarded as one of the finest of swordsmen, archers and captains in England, so why was this so difficult?
"What is it, Richard?" Anne said, after I had seemingly lost my nerve.
I was sweating and breathing heavily, despite the chilly air.
"Will you marry me?" I asked.
Anne's eyes grew with relief and joy, but then that quickly faded. "But you would get my fortune, and everything I own would become yours."
"That's true, marrying you would make me a very wealthy man," I conceded, saddened that she was uncertain of why I was asking her.
"But I do not seek your wealth. The only thing of yours that I ask for completely and eternally is your heart," I said tenderly. "And I will be a true husband because I love you."
"You love me, Richard?" Anne smiled wistfully. "Truly? With all your heart?"
"Yes," I smiled, my own eyes threatening to water. I realised that Anne is shivering as the white snowflakes blessed us like confetti. I took off my cloak and fastened it around her shoulders and she graciously accepted and thanked me. "Perhaps I always have. I always will, until my dying breath."
I was feeling slightly colder, but it did not matter, for Anne was more comfortable.
I descended to one knee and looked into her eyes. "Anne, will you marry me?"
"Yes!" Anne laughed and sobbed quietly. "Yes, I will! I love you too, Richard!"
Overjoyed, I rushed up to take her in my arms and hold her soft lips in mine, before embracing once more. I sowed a kiss into her forehead, the first of many. I felt so blessed, because here I stood before a girl who was the meaning of true beauty, and she was beautiful, in more ways than meets the eye. The way she smiled in that moment, I knew that, unlike Edward the King, the only woman that I would need to make me happy was right in front of me, a privilege that even most kings do not have.
I strode proudly towards the path and held out my hand, grinning and beckoning towards the leafy gate that led out. "Come on, my love!"
"Where are we going?" Anne giggled, taking my hand.
"Oh, we are going to our little palace!" I whispered. We ran down the path, laughing like we had done when we were children. But this time it was different, because we were running away. Not from this place, but from social custom; I was not marrying Anne to gain her fortune, and she was not marrying me to become Duchess of Gloucester, even though we would get those things, but we were marrying for something much more pure. I would be defying Clarence, and he would not be happy when he found out what I had done. The years to come would be full of love, joy and hope as well as touched with despair, bitterness and some of the worst sort of grief. But I would never regret the day that I pledged my love, honour, protection and heart to Anne Neville- the White Rose and Red Heart of Gloucester.
Author's Note: Thanks for reading! Please leave a review.
There is a sort of sequel to this on my profile, it's called Falconmaster, and it's a Doctor Who crossover, where Eleventh and Clara find themselves in 1485 Yorkist England, a few months before Bosworth. So please check that out if you enjoyed this.
;)