Death of a Queen
Death of a Queen
The Royal Bedchamber was lit by the flickering lights of a cheery fire. The light from the hearth bounced off the walls in a playful glow. However, the mood of the room's occupants was anything but jolly. Richard, King of England, and his queen, Anne, sullenly sat on opposite sides of the room.
Anne sat beside the fire, her eyes vacantly locked on the flames. She sighed. "Were that this fire were Hell, and you were burning in it, Richard," she spat out.
"I believe I prefer your hacking coughs grating on my last nerve to your actual speaking," Richard said lightly. "At least with your coughs, I can pretend they'll end with your collapsing on the floor."
"I hate you!" she muttered, her eyes still locked on the fire.
"That's such a pity, because I love you so, my dear," he retorted sarcastically. "Now, shut up so I can go to sleep."
"You don't sleep."
"Then just shut up!" he snapped.
"So why not just send me to the Tower?" she challenged. "I'm sure I'd just disappear."
Richard scowled at her. "Unfortunately for us all, Wife, I have plans for you that require keeping you around."
"And what are those plans?" she demanded.
He smiled to himself. "I plan to watch you die a slow and painful death."
"Oh, isn't that sweet!" she cooed. "And here I was planning to either suffocate in my own bed or be stabbed by one of your precious friends."
"No, no! I quite enjoy watching you slowly cough up your lungs, actually," he said with false enthusiasm. "It's the highlight of my day when the light sleep I get is interrupted by your hacking, blood-filled coughs."
She looked over at him for the first time in hours. "Oh, my poor dear husband!" she gushed, feigning concern. "Had I only known! I would have slept in the kitchen to spare your precious sleep!" She snorted. "God knows I'd prefer any room to this one."
"Then what's keeping you in it?" he demanded. "Say the word and you shall have your own room."
"I want my own room," she said without hesitation.
He scoffed. "Don't be silly, where would we put you? You're such a damnéd nuisance. Do you ever think of how your whims affect others around you?"
"My whims?" Anne demanded angrily, rising to her feet. "You spoiled, selfish child! When was the last time you thought of someone else? Because I'm sure it wasn't when you killed your poor brother, Clarence. Or your nephews! Or my husband!"
Richard stalked across the room and grabbed her left hand, forcing it in front of her face. "You still wear the ring, I notice!" he hissed. "You recall where you received it, no doubt. You were following your precious husband's corpse down the road. Through your mournful wails, you spat curses at me. And between those curses, I wooed you straight to the alter. You claim with every raspy, ragged breath you yet take that you hate me, but you still wear this ring- the symbol of my triumph over your pathetic and weak woman's heart! Why do you still wear it?"
She smiled thinly. "Why? Because, from this abomination, this grossly sick and unholy union, this putrid pact with Satan I unwittingly joined myself to – in short our marriage – there was produced the one thing on Earth I ever truly loved."
"You wear it to remember our son?" he asked, grinning at the absurdity.
"I wear it to remember my one hideous moment of weakness and how I attempt –every day – to redeem myself by living through ten years of marriage to you, a man who would have better served humanity as the Antichrist." Richard pushed her away and turned to leave the room. Anne pulled the ring from her finger and hurled it at him so that it hit him squarely in the back of the head. "Take your damn ring back. I never want to see it again. I don't need a reminder anymore."
"My grandest triumph," Richard muttered as he stooped to pick it up. Once in his hand, he quickly turned back to Anne and took her face in his hand. "How unfortunate my greatest triumph was coupled with the greatest annoyance in all of England." He forced her mouth open and shoved the ring down her throat. Anne began to choke on the gold band that was now lodged in her throat and Richard stepped back and watched her as she doubled over onto the floor. "Join you ghosts, and let me be rid of you," he commanded. Without another word or look, he left the room.
Anne stayed where she was, completely alone, convulsing as she attempted to bring the ring out of her airway. With all of the strength she possessed, Anne coughed as hard as she could, throwing the ring out of her lungs along with a large amount of blood.
She collapsed on the floor and rolled onto her side. Across the room, lying on the floor, she spotted a dagger that Richard wore nearly constantly. A last thought of revenge sprang into her mind and she crawled across the floor to where it lay. She leaned back against the wall and pulled the blade from its sheath. She held the dagger out in the air, poised to be plunged into her heart.
She smiled wickedly. "For someone to find my lifeless body with your beloved blade in my heart would be a shock," she thought aloud. It remained there for a few seconds before finally clattering to the stone floor beside Anne. "Had I the strength, my wretched husband," she whispered to the wind, "I'd implicate you in my death."
Drained from the effort of coughing up the ring, she let her head roll back so it rested against the wall. Anne closed her eyes, her initial intent to rest them for a few moments before getting up. Her breathing slowly returned to normal and then slowed to the shallowest of intakes.
Her eyes never reopened.
...
As I don't own anything and I originally wrote this like 5 years ago for a class assignment, below is a mini history lesson on why I chose certain plot points.
A bit of history:
My first inspirations come from a book that showed the family trees for all of the royal families of Europe. Anne and Richard were married for ten years and they had one son, who was named Edward. Also that book stated that Anne had in fact married Prince Edward, even though there are some sources that still dispute that fact. In this story I'm going off of the book. Having the marriage in place just gave me more ammunition for Anne, therefore elongating her final, glorious battle with Richard.