Time travel fic. Plot bunny from Mimi dubois found in the Plot bunnies and challenges for everything else but Anne Boleyn.

What if... Edmund Plantagenet is NOT beheaded after the Battle of Wakefield in 1460 along with his father. What if he is allowed to live? What if he is the one that Mary ends up having the relationship with? Not George Duke of Clarence. His title was Earl of Rutland. He could be made Duke of Rutland.

Altered some of the ages to fit the story and the events surrounding the war of the roses.

Thanks to Mimi dubois, Vader's mistress, Ladyjaxs999, Couture212 for the sources and inspiration their fics brought me and to the Richard III society page which is the best page and offers the best sources online. I suggest you check it out if you haven't already.

Edmund barely escaped and by barely he had his health, a few blood, and his sanity with him, but his soul was beyond repair. Those bastards of the red rose of Lancaster! They had killed their father and placed his head on a wooden pike with a paper crown like he was some kind of traitor!

Traitor? Pha! He was the man who tried setting things right again. People could say what they wanted but his father was the rightful heir, through his line and his mother's line, the Yorks were the rightful heirs -and since god stopped favoring the house of Lancaster, it fell on them to rule the country.

Richard was dead, the task now fell unto his brother Edward.

He had to find him.

Mary watched her life crumble as her father married woman after woman. She wished she could have a second chance and she could have changed things for the better. Perhaps this was god's punishment. Perhaps she had been too harsh on the heretic.

But they deserved it -a voice in her head said. They were evil and they were responsible for bastardizing her and corrupting her little brother's soul and turning him against her. Besides, she was saving their souls purging them from sin. But then she heard the screams when she would come out of the balcony.

"Burn the catholic whore!" they screamed. Perhaps they were right.

"Your Majesty you must declare who is your rightful heir. Lady Elizabeth is a heretic, you must declare queen Mary of Scotland your rightful heir."

Mary shook her head. That Scottish pig who also plotted against her and her father had never once lifted a finger to aid her mother? Never! She shook her head and spat the words as if they had come natural to her "I will never give my throne to a Stuart. Better a heretic than a Stuart" she said and everyone around her gasped then she began coughing releasing phlegm and the priest came administering the last rites to her.

She wished she could go back. She had done so many wrongs. To Elizabeth, her people, even to her mother. If she had only signed that will and accepted she was a bastard, her mother could have been saved. She would have convinced herself of the truth -that her husband was no longer her Sir loyal heart and she would have signed. She would have been allowed to live and with that, she and Mary would have plotted together. Perhaps even the heretics would have treated her better. Perhaps she would have grown to love them. But all she had of them were resentful memories.

She coughed one more time and then closed her eyes. She could feel herself drifting away. It did not feel nearly as bad as she had imagined. She would finally be reunited with her mother and be at peace.

By tomorrow morning they would cheer her death and cry "Long live the Queen! Long live the Queen! Long live the Queen"

"Long Live Queen Elizabeth the First!"

Mary could hear them now, see the visions of her sister's reign, all the things she would do. That was her destiny to be England's greatest Queen, it was never Mary's. Mary was always a bump in the road, she was a mistake, one that it had taken god too long to remedy but at last she would be dead and everything would be well again ...

Edmund barely made it to the coast of Dover. His legs were aching and he could hear the soldiers marching. Damn them! He wanted to go to his mother and seek succor but he knew doing that would only place his mother and his younger brothers in danger.

Just as he was about to rest he ran into someone. "Ouch! What in the hell are you thinking?" He shouted at the idiot who ran into his path. The stranger cowered at his voice and turned to run but Edmund stopped him, unsheathing his dagger and putting it on the stranger's neck. "Were you sent here by Henry's Queen, hmm? Well, answer me!"

"P-p-p-please I-I-I-I-I don't know where I am. IthoughtIwasdyingbutthenIwokeuphere." She said very fast and Edmund could barely understood her but he understood her first sentence. He pushed the dagger away from her throat and turned her to face him.

By God she is just a harmless girl you idiot! He was about to murder an innocent. He sighed, half-relieved she wasn't one of Lancaster's forces and half-scared with what he had been near in doing.

"I am sorry. What's your name?"

"Mary."

"Mary, you said you didn't know where you are. Do you know where your parents are from? Maybe you could find shelter in the port nearby, I am on my way to Calais. You can come with me."

The young girl shook her head. She was about to leave when they both turned hearing the loud hooves of Lancaster's cavalry. He turned back to Mary. "Look Mary you can stay here or follow me, either way you won't survive a second on your own, so it's better you follow me for the time being." Without waiting for confirmation, he took her hand and led her away.

In all the meanwhile that his thoughts remained on his father, his death and his own near death experience, Mary's remained on her own death experience.

What had happened? Last thing she remembered she was dying. The priest was administering the holy rites to her, then she opened her eyes and she landed here. But just where was here and why was this man saying Lancaster forces?

A sudden thought struck her.

Lancaster! The Tudors were Lancasters, there were some remnants in England who still clung to the foolish belief that the white rose of York would rise again, there were small, very small but some believed strong enough to cause a rebellion, remnants of the York rose who believed it was their duty to restore their house to the throne.

Had they done it? Was this god's punishment then? Was he punishing her for failing to serve His people, for failing to serve His flock and burning men, women, and children?

No, she refused to believe that a loving god could be so cruel. Then again, she had believed that her father had also been a loving and merciful man and look how that turned out for her and her mother.

They finally arrived to the port. They hid in one of the taverns. He excused himself with her and told her to stay put. She asked him where he was going but he only offered her a jesting smile and ran off. Strange, the man vaguely reminded her of her father. They had similar features and his red-brown hair was straight and not curly like her father in his younger days. At the thought of him, there was a sudden longing in Mary. She longed for the days when he swung her and boasted to everyone that she was the finest jewel he ever had and "She never cries" he said.

A single tear ran down her cheek. She looked around. The people were dressed with very old-fashionable clothes. Some of which she had seen in her grandmother's portrait, Elizabeth of York from Richmond Palace.

She spotted an empty table and sat. She sighed. What was she going to do. Could she even trust this man? The way he spoke of Lancaster it was like he hated it. She had to get out of here -she decided. Whatever god's plan was, she knew it didn't intend her to be on the side of her family's enemy. Just as she was about to leave, Edmund returned and took her hand again.

"Here, wear these." He brought a pair of fresh clothes. Mary was unsure if she should take them or not.

"I-I have to go."

Judging by her accent she was no simple peasant girl or tavern wench that's for sure. This was the second time she'd spoken to him and her speech was refined, in fact her whole appearance was refined. Youthful looking, dark grey eyes that reminded him of those Tudor bastards, the King of Lancaster's half siblings by his French mother, the late Dowager Queen. In fact looking closely there was some similitude between them, but neither had been half as handsome as she was.

He wondered if she was one of his father's bastards? His mother complained to his sisters never to trust a man. A man's first instinct was self preservation and that including dumping his seed on whatever woman he found. Edmund snorted inwardly. It wouldn't surprised him if this turned out to be her sister but ...

Looking even closer he saw something else in her. There was something -not divine- but completely bewitching of her, her eyes seemed to change color, almost green, she had a magical beauty about her, in the candlelight she could pass in the far distance at divine but come closer and you would see that she had the beauty of the creatures of old, the ones they used to worship before they turned their loyalty to the white Christ.

Enchanted by the piercing and yet soft gaze of her eyes he did not take notice of her trembling.

Mary wondered why didn't she leave now. She wanted to go. She had to go. She could not support a usurper and a rebel at that of his or her, whoever had usurped her sister's rightful throne.

"I have to go sir, p-please."

It dawned to Edmund she was scared and trembling. He withdrew his hands from her chin and looked down at his feet. A part of him told him to leave her here. He was probably wrong anyways and she was nothing but somebody else's brat but if he was right and she was some distant relation of him. (Of who, god knows? Edmund thought. But it was his duty to protect her).

And he would protect her. Unlike the French Queen and her horrid son, he would not fail his family. He gripped her arm and ordered her to look at him. "Mary, I am not asking you to come with me and fight my wars, I don't know where you come from or where your family is but you are with me now and the Queen's soldiers are bound to come. South of London is loyal to my father but the truth is the Queen is ruthless and Margaret of Anjou has many spies. If she finds someone, as insignificant as you are, that came into contact with me, she and her cruel son will kill you."

Mary shuddered. This Margaret almost sounded like a female version of her father. Wait! Mary's brain rewind his speech. Margaret of Anjou has many spies ...

"So you will have to come with me or else." He took her hand again and led her out of the tavern and into an Inn to an upstairs room he said they would have to share until morning when they would get on the first ship to take them out of England and join his brother's forces.

"You said Margaret of Anjou." She said, repeating what he had said earlier in the tavern after she changed into the closed he gave her.

"Yes, bastard woman. She will not let any of us go. You must hate me for saying this, more if you are of Lancaster but damn the red rose. Perhaps it is just they are the red rose for all around them is death. Blood and gore."

Silence.

Mary looked at her surroundings, paying attention for the first time and remembered his clothing on their first encounter. He was blanched, sweating, panting, and shouting foul curses. She looked at his eyes, sapphire blue like she remembered from the portraits she'd seen of her great-grandfather, Edward IV, and his eyes were almond shaped although not as open as her father's. He had a regal bearing, finer even than anyone in her family. His hair was brownish-gold. He looked like one of the mythical deities she used to read so much about.

Taking in everything that happened and her last wish before she had 'died', she smiled. God had given her a second chance. Or maybe it was not god and it was the devil? Mary shook her head. It had to be god. Even if it hadn't been him who sent her here, this was all part of His plan. Everything was part of His plan. Suddenly she heard a strange sound coming from the running waters, it was almost as if there was a voice calling to her.

A musical voice.

"M'lady are you alright?"

"What? Oh yes, yes, I am fine." She said turning to him then turned her attention back to the window from where she could see the ocean, hear the ocean. It was almost as if the splashing was the ocean itself communicating to her, telling her of her new destiny.

Maybe she had been right and it had been another force who had granted her wish. Whatever it was the all knowing god was behind it.

She smiled with the knowledge that He was behind this, and convincing herself of this as she continued to hear a musical voice reassuring her that everything from now on would be fine, she turned her head in his direction. "Yes, I am very fine, m'lord. May I inquire what's your name? You said that you were for York."

"I am and you are very smart, but I would keep that wit to yourself. These are dangerous times and people don't like smart people, especially smart girls as yourselves." Mary nodded. He went on. "I am Edmund of house York. Edmund Plantagenet at your service.' He said formally without making a bow. He didn't consider it important and she was just a peasant girl.

Mary smiled. The earl of Rutland from what she remembered from her history lessons with her tutors. "Lord Rutland then, what a surprise to find myself in your presence. I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything. If the queen's forces finds me I will be earl of nothing and my head will land on a wooden spike on top of the tower or worse in some filthy city for everyone to see."

Mary shook her head. Despite always being told the Yorks were nothing but upstarts and traitors, despite being taught to hate them, she could not help but wish this was not so.

Hearing the ocean as suddenly all had grown quiet. It was as if the people's screams, insults, and laughter had died and there was only the waters and the sound of the wind hitting against her window. She felt strangely calm as she heard this and saw him, calmly smiling at her as she smiled back.

"How old are you?" He asked.

"Fourt-" she stopped. She had almost said forty two. But judging by the way he looked at her and by how her voice had sounded and how her hair was redder than she'd ever witnessed since she had been princess of England, she said "Fourteen m'lord."

"Good age. I am surprised your parents haven't married you."

"I have no parents m'lord." He furrowed his brow and looked at her in surprise. She did not feel uncomfortable, she drew confidence by the waves outside and the sound of the waves hitting against the ships and the violent winds almost as if they had been summoned by an evil force.

"How?"

"They died when I was too young. I have little memory of them." She said. It was half truth. Her parents ceased to exist when she was young. She didn't see her mother for years and when she did, she had been eleven and she had told her to never forget what she was. That she was daughter of the true queen of England and someday she would be queen. How wrong she was. She became queen but she was never loved. She was betrayed and humiliated by the daughter of her enemy, her beloved sister Elizabeth.

Edmund could think of nothing more to say. He gestured to the hard bed behind him. "Where will you sleep?" Mary asked concerned. This was a prince in the making. If he didn't die he would be one of his brother's heirs. He could not sleep on the cold floor like some beggar.

But he assured her the floors were warm and he took blankets to make his sleep more comfortable. Mary went into bed and wished this was not a ruse, that this was not a dream, another cruel twist of fate and that she would wake up to the same pain and loss she'd known all her life.

But the following morning she found it wasn't. Edmund was awake and hurrying her to get out of bed. They saw the soldiers had arrived and were inspecting every ship. Somehow they had to get into one of those ships -he said, and Mary did not doubt knowing that the Yorks were famous for not being quitters, that he would find a way.