The Night knows no Dawn
By SMYGO4EVA

The King is dead….Long Live the King!

The crown was heavy, but it was a weight that Richard would bear.

Henry Stafford, Duke of Buckingham, stood before his King, the one and only Richard III.

Such moments had only been dreamt of, when a reality was to be just a flight of fancy, a fantasy never to be fulfilled. Moments that were not to be those belonging to one seen as a demon.

I want the crown, a dark voice murmured within Richard, a confession that dripped from his lips like honey, wrung out from him by the Kingmaker.

The Kingmaker, who had trailed kisses on Richard's chest, loving and suffocating, teeth white against flushed skin. Henry who had soothed Richard, while the Kingmaker brought out his desires, his selfish machinations.

Henry held Richard close, all the while leaving pretty scratches down his King's sides. Richard grasped onto his Duke, his nails digging in. Arching, pleasure pulsing, it was all too much, and yet it was not enough.

This night knew no dawn.

This was a forbidden liaison, yes, but to them, they were all too familiar with being marked unclean.

Richard III was now King, his grasp on the throne blood-deep and inescapable, the weight of the crown and his darkness, his to carry forever.

The Kingmaker, Henry, smiled only to Richard, and to him alone.

The King is dead….Long Live the King!

(A/N: This was my first time writing for Requiem of the Rose King, so forgive me if there are some character inconsistencies.)