Author's Note: I own none of the characters, just the plot which I pulled out from my own imagination. Hope you all enjoy!
May 1485
Princess Elizabeth placed her hands nurturingly over her bump as she waited patiently at the altar in the chapel at Middleham Castle. How she had longed for this day. How she had dreamt and fantasized about it. Like all girls, she had been planning her wedding day for as long as she could remember.
Perhaps it wasn't going to be as glorious and glamorous as she had imagined, but her groom was everything she could have wished for and more.
She was to marry a King.
King Richard III of England.
She knew that many people would object to the marriage. Her mother, for one! She would think it immoral that she claimed to love the man who supposedly killed her brothers. She would think it wicked that she had broken her betrothal to Henry Tudor and claim the union to be incestuous. But Elizabeth did not care. She loved Richard for who he was, not what he was. It just so happened that he was both the King of England and her Uncle. And she truly believed with all her heart that he was not responsible for the death of the two young Princes.
She knew the people would talk about them, gossiping and condemning them for such a vile act. Let them talk, she thought, peasants know nothing about true love. There were already rumours flying around London that she was his official mistress and that Richard had killed his first wife in order to make room for the new one. Luckily, nobody knew she was with child yet or else the rumour would have been even more reinforced. Any way, ladies never listened to gossip in the first place.
She knew Richard was a good, honourable man and that was all that mattered.
It was he who had suggested they get married in the first place. A lesser man would have let a woman in her condition give birth out of wedlock and condemn the child to be a bastard. But not her Richard. He wanted the child to be legitimate so it would have the right to be King one day.
But these were dangerous times.
They had been thrown back into the old days of war torn England. Rebellions were rampant and the Lancastrians were determined to have one of their own back on the throne again. They even conspired to use Elizabeth in their schemes. A marriage that would reunite the Houses of York and Lancaster together once more. Elizabeth was to marry the Lancastrian Henry Tudor.
But she would not! The very thought of it made her sick to her stomach. Her heart belonged solely to Richard and nothing in the world could part her from her love.
After what seemed like a lifetime, the doors to the chapel finally burst open and she watched in awe as her lover walked up the stone aisle towards her. He looked magnificent in his gold embroidered doublet and black velvet hose. It even looked as though God was shining down upon him as the sunlight bounced off the golden crown he wore on top of his curly, coal black hair and shone down upon them. He looked truly ethereal and blessed.
She, in comparison, looked more fey and serene in her silver gown. Her hair cascaded over her shoulders in an abundance of golden waves as it hung down to her waist. And to top it all off she wore a stunning tiara of diamonds and sapphires. Richard thought she was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen in all the world and could easily understand why people believed her to be a descendant of a river goddess. She truly resembled a water nymph.
"My love" he greeted her with a hungry, knowing smirk. He felt like he could consume her on the spot, church be damned!
"My King" she whispered and curtsied as low as her swollen belly would allow. This would be the last time she would ever have to bow down to him.
He took hold of her hand and brought her back to her feet again, his emerald eyes now locked upon her azure ones. And as they turned towards the priest who was about to perform the secret ceremony, he placed his hand tenderly upon the bump.
They were to be joined mind, body and soul for the rest of their days.
Unfortunately for Elizabeth, the rest of their days did not amount to much time.
On a sweltering hot day at the beginning of August, after fifteen agonising hours in labour, Elizabeth gave birth to her child. Richard pushed through the door and almost knocked the midwife over in his haste to meet the new life that he helped create.
He was not disappointed with what he found.
He picked the tiny bundle up from the portly wet nurse and cradled it in his arms as he looked upon it in complete amazement.
It was a son. They had named him Charles.
Elizabeth smiled approvingly from her bed. She was completely exhausted and covered in a film of glistening sweat, but she was truly elated at the scene occuring before her. She could never have imagined such pure, unadulterated bliss in all of her wildest dreams. But she knew her happiness would not be long lasting.
The threat of battle loomed in the air like a nasty stench.
"He is the reason you cannot go to war" she warned him after observing him coo over the surprisingly expressive little boy. The little prince had his father's colouring but his mother's bright, piercing blue eyes.
"He is the reason I must go" Richard rationalised in a very matter-of-fact manner.
Before all this, he might have admitted to fighting for selfish reasons. For fame, for glory, to maintain a knowingly usurped crown. But now he felt that having a child justified his cause. It was no longer a fight for survival. It was now a fight for legacy. He must secure the crown so that one day his son might inherit it. It was Charles' birth rite and he would fight for the rite with all of his strength.
"You would willingly allow your son to grow up without a father?" she whimpered. She was usually quite a strong willed, if slightly naive, young woman but the stress of childbearing and birth had made her an emotional wreck as of late. She could feel her eyes watering as she fought hard against the tears building up in her eyes. Richard could see them shining with unborn tears.
"I fight for England. For us. For our son" he proclaimed passionately, looking at his son with complete adoration. It was as though he had never seen anything so beautiful before in his entire life. He was truly a cause worth fighting for even if it inevitably meant his death. From that moment on, Richard knew that it was his destiny to fight at Bosworth Field.
"He will be King one day, Elizabeth. I swear it" he solemnly proclaimed, sitting himself on the edge of her bed and resting his dark head against her fair one in a loving manner, like two birds feathering their nest.
And for all his faults, she believed him.
She trusted him with such utter, blind faith that when she discovered his fate on that cursed 22nd day of August, that she could scarcely believe her ears.
Richard had been defeated in battle.
Cut down from his horse and slaughtered like a cow at the butcher's. They went into gory detail about his death. Apparently blood poured out of him like an overturned barrel of Burgundy wine. His limbs had nearly been hacked off. The back of his head had been smashed in and part of his skull had been sliced off. His body was stripped and he was slung into a pauper's grave, as though he were a nobody and not a God anointed King.
She couldn't believe it.
Not her Richard.
They had to be mistaken.
But when it had been proved beyond any doubt, it hit her like a thousand daggers to the heart. She cried him a river and more, yet her tears ceased to dry. Her throat was hoarse from all of her wailing. Her bones ached. It was torture to even be alive.
What would she do without him? And what would happen to poor Charles? Bad enough that he should be raised without a father, but as the son of a deposed King he was in danger of meeting the same grisly end. She knew she had to act quickly, but what should she do?
It was then that her mother made a suggestion to her.
There were only a scarce number of people who knew that she had married Richard in the first place, let alone know they had a son together. Most of those who witnessed the union were family members. And if they didn't know beforehand, they knew full well now to keep their mouths shut over such a matter. They had all succumbed to the fact that Henry was their sovereign King now. Many of them embraced it.
The whole kingdom had tired of wars and rebellions and were ready for a time of peace and prosperity. England was finally united under one sovereign King.
The marriage remained secret. As did Charles.
He was sent to live with Elizabeth "Bess" Brandon, one of Elizabeth's childhood confidante who had also lost her husband in the same battle. He had been one of Henry Tudor's standard bearer's, though Bess did not mourn her deceased husband one moment longer than what she needed to. They thought it a wise idea to place the child into a family that was already loyal to the Tudors. Nobody would suspect a thing.
It was all very easy to fake.
And so all that was left for Elizabeth to do was to forget about those blissful months of happiness where she was Elizabeth Plantagenant, mother of Prince Charles and wife to King Richard III. She was forced to marry Henry Tudor and although she was content in her marriage, she was never truly happy.
She went on to have seven children with him and it was her second son, named Henry after his father, that took the throne after the old King died in 1509. And it was in 1529, during Young Henry's reign, that the truth was finally revealed about Elizabeth's secret past...