Anne had thought perhaps she may find solace within her dreams.
Now she would be content with nightmares.
A fitful sleep filled with images of her dead son, her Richard beside Elizabeth of York... but it was denied to her.
Sleep rejected her advances as she had rejected Richard's, it threw her from it's warm embrace to the reality of cold sheets were she lay alone. It taunted her. New her to be impure, turned her deepest fears against her. Oh, poor Edward, her little Ned, her baby; and those boys to the little princes in the tower, had it been her words that brought a blade to their throats? She tried to fight, let her head be filled with pleasant thoughts... but those memories of her and Richard in their early days only threw into harsh reality how distant they had become, and him reaching for the hand of his beautiful, young and fertile niece.
She needed him.
She needed Richard.
She had never liked sleeping alone, had taken to hugging pillows in those horrible days married to a monster, the empty days before Richard saved her. Yet it was never quite the same, and no one could comfort her like he did. The way he stroked her hair and whispered words in her till she fell asleep, how their warm breath intermingled and the bodies pressed as close together as they could possibly be...
She needed Richard.
Perhaps she had been wrong to reject him in her grief. So terribly wrong to be so blinded by angry when they should have been brought closer together by their sons death. Wrong to deny that he loved her. A fool not to understand and respect his motives, when he was already suffering.
It was the middle of the night, perhaps even early morning. All her twittering little maids had flocked back to their nests, and she had long been in her sleep clothes. She was a Queen, though, and if a Queen is not allowed to walk around a castle in her nightgown then what was the point in being royal at all.
As it were she did not encounter a single person on her journey, and it almost seemed as if she arrived at Richard's door far too soon. Everyone knew that a man called on his wife, only wanton women will go to a man. It had never been like that between her and Richard though, he treated her as an equal. He would come to her chambers at any time in the day, no matter how much it caused the maids to gossip, storm in just to vent about his problems, and he had always encouraged her to do the same.
Times had changed now, so it was with trembling fingers that she tentatively knocked upon his door.
Richard could not sleep.
So instead he thought, and allowed these thoughts to consume until he became nothing more than hopeless mess sitting at a desk after midnight.
Before he would have Anne to appear behind him, rub his shoulders and embrace him. They had slept together almost every night that they were by one another's side, even just to lie there and have the comfort of the others presence. They stayed apart now. Anne had moved so far away from him now, and every touch he laid upon Elizabeth of York only produced another line on Anne's face, another tear upon her cheek. He still longed to wipe that tear from her face, hold her within his arms, share all those little touches that used to come some naturally... Yet he could not find the words to express it anymore, and even if he could she may no longer care to hear it.
It was with surprise that he heard a knock upon his door.
His heavy eyes told him that it had been hours since he last slept, and the dark sky informed him that it was not yet morning.
Nothing good could come from this knock, he was sure of that. So it was with a sense of foreboding that he informed the perpetrator that they may enter.
The door creaked open, followed by a silence that seemed to be twice the length of all his years on this earth. He did not have the energy nor motivation to move from his seat, or the patience to wait for this intruder to speak.
"Well, what news is it now?"
"I could not sleep."
That quivering yet defiant voice had not been what he had been expecting, and in his excitement he almost toppled from his chair.
"Anne?"
"Really? Have you already managed to erase my face from your mind?"
He was not dreaming, he could not be. For she had never looked more real than she did standing in his doorway at that moment.
She wore nothing but her nightgown, her long hair tumbling loose in it's customary waves. She had positioned her tiny body into a confrontational stance, but her features gave away her nervous state. It caused him immeasurable pain that he was the one to make her feel this way. Her, his Anne.
"You have merely done so well to avoid me recently, that for a moment I thought I may have been sleeping..."
Anne's face fell for a second, before she quickly re-adjusted her features.
"Well I shall leave if my presence affronts you so."
Richard instinctively moved towards her and grabbed hold of her wrists.
"No. No, you must not leave now, not after we have been apart for so long. Anne, my dearest Anne, your presence could never be anything but the greatest honor. Anne, oh my Anne."
He grabbed on to her, breathed in the scent of her hair. Clung to her desperately as she had not allowed him to do before, let sobs overtake his body as he had not allowed himself to do before. She returned his embrace with an equal amount of enthusiasm, but she did not cry, her tears had run free for too long. Instead she whispered sweet meaningless words into his ear, running her fingers through his hair until he cried no more. He would not let go of her now, though. He was not capable of letting her go, as he did not know when he might be able to see her again. Instead he kissed her, pressing a trail along her collarbone, slowly working his way up her neck towards her mouth. No matter how long they might spend together, Richard was certain that he would never grow tired of her kisses, of the way they seemed to fit together so perfectly.
He pushed her up against the wall, his hands protecting her from any pain, his lips never leaving her body. It was Anne's little gasps of pleasure that drew him from his trance. He moved back just enough to observe her face, smiling at the sight of her red cheeks and unruly hair, allowing true laughter to escape from him.
"The Queen of England is not capable of sleeping alone, then? Perhaps we should hire a maid to watch over you?"
Anne made a valiant attempt at appearing affronted, but the sight of that familiar mischievous smirk on her Husband's face had never yet failed to transform her into a giggling girl.
"Do not mock Richard! It is cruel."
"You are quite correct my dear wife, I suppose I shall have to make up for it by allowing you to sleep in my bed..."
"Oh, how generous of you..."
That elicited another smirk on Richards behalf, as he leaned his head in closer to hers, eyes dark with a familiar desire. His hands worked their way up in a slow progress to remove her nightgown, and her whole body shivered in response to his tender touch. There was no more time for mockery, as he mouth soon found far better things to do... and as he took her on the bed, she thought perhaps there was hope for them still.
"Richard, do you love me? You would not put me aside would you, Richard?"
"I could not put you aside, without you by me I am broken. I am nothing. I need you, Anne, you are my life. I have never stopped loving you and I never intend to."
"I love you. I always do, promise me you'll remember that?"
"I always will."
As they both lay in the happy haze that followed all their couplings, Anne drifted into a peaceful sleep with her hand still tracing circles on Richard's chest. He watched her chest rise an fall, stroking her hair with a feeling of contentment that felt almost unnatural to him now. He was no longer quite optimistic enough to believe that this meant all their problems were fixed, but that did not matter as long as she would also know that he loved her, truly and utterly, then they could remain together, as they has always been. When this was all over, then they would have time.
When this was over they would just be them.