Chapter Text
March 1485.
He stepped into the cold shadows of her chambers, feeling almost too bare in his nightshirt and breeches. She sat, propped up by numerous pillows, her large nightgown covering her delicate, slim body. She turned her eyes from him, flicking them to the view out of the window into the dark night, but it was no use. He stepped forward, approaching the bed, but her gaze did not cover him.
"My love," He began.
"Do not call me that. Not when it is not true." She whispered, so quiet he could hardly hear her over the gales outside, but her words hit him all the same. He looked at her, the pale skin that covered her, her pinched cheeks plagued by her sickness.
"Anne."
"What, Richard, do you expect me to beg for your forgiveness? You know I am not like that." She met with his eyes now, and he could see in her eyes that she was void of all love for him. She was right, though. He never expected her to do so. He knelt beside their bed, clasping her hands in his, pressing them to his lips. He kissed her every finger, his lips hovering over her wedding band. She did not pull away, but she did not look at him.
"My darling, please look at me." He pleaded with her, shaking their fists as the fervent words left his lips.
"She could have borne you an heir."
"Do not say such things, Annie. You are ill." His eyes were cursed with the gloss of tears. Her words harrowed him, cutting him like a dagger to the bone, opening every wound he had obtained in the battlefield.
"I wish I was never Queen, Dickon. Then, perhaps, Ned would live, and my heart would not break as thus." She sighed, "Though maybe it is a blessing to be joining him, and my sister."
"Do not wish it, sweetheart. I could not live without you." She pulled her hand from his grasp, twisting her withered ring up and down her finger.
"Your maid tells me you are having your bad dreams again." He said, easing the silence of the room.
"I do not dream of Edouard. He is not the one who still hurts me."
"I do not mean to hurt you, Anne."
"If I believed that, they would throw me to the streets as a fool and declare me the Mad Queen."
"I know that I have relinquished your love, and that I have treated you harshly, but I plead with you now, forgive me. Forgive me of it all, beloved."
"Why have you come here, Richard? Not to bed me, not when you have her, the whore's daughter, and I have not borne a child to term nigh on ten years." Her words stung him again, the reminder of their failure at a bustling nursery too much to bear.
"Annie, you are my wife, and I love you, even if you will not believe it. I have never and will never lie with anyone else but my wife, nor will I think of it. You know well enough by now that not all husbands bed their wives for the purpose of heirs, but you are still young, and you can still conceive. I could not care less if we were not blessed again, but if we were to be, I would be happy. I will ensure you are safe, and we will do all we can to prevent another loss. But for now, I seek humble solace with you, beloved." His tears were dripping onto his nightshirt, hitting his uneven shoulder. She looked at him, the unadulterated, carnal desire burning for her in his eyes.
"I am not the wife you once knew," She spoke, at last, taking his hand back in hers.
"And I, not the husband," He gave a small laugh against her palm, his lips lingering over the veins that sprung to her skin.
"But we did promise, til death do us part, Dickon."
"You are not going to die, my love, not now, not yet. I will not let Him take you, God be damned." He moved from his aching knees to sit beside her on the bed, his hands cradling her cascading hair as he kissed her forehead.
"May I?" He whispered, his breath hot against her ear, his fingers hovering over the strings of her nightdress. She nodded, not saying a word, as he slipped it down to just above her breasts. Her body shivered at his touch, as though his hands were so unfamiliar to her skin.
"Tell me you wish me to kiss you, Anne, or I shall go." He pressed their noses together, his lips edging over hers, the breath from his words entering her open mouth.
"I wish nothing more." She replied, her voice light as a feather, but he heard her. His lips moved to caress her eyelids, the bridge of her nose, her brows and finally, her lips. She gripped his arms, her hands twisting around his wrists as he held her face. He released himself from her grasp, gently lifting her small body to lie horizontally on their bed. He climbed over her, resuming his steadfast kisses to her lips.
"My duchess," He whispered against her jaw, pressing chaste kisses to the underside of her chin and the top of her neck. Her back arched at the use of her old nickname, the very name he'd whisper in her ear those sleepless nights at Middleham, when she yielded her virtue beneath him, or sat atop him with his head buried in her hair and his hands claiming the lands of her breasts.
Her skin remained ultimately the same, perhaps a little aged and weary since being Queen, but it was still the skin he held so dear. He too, had aged, the grey hairs beginning to show and he was not the sportsman he once was. But they were still the same Dickon and Annie, as when they were children, him tugging at her plaits or Anne racing to hide from him and Francis when they played together.
"Richard," She breathed, as his mouth moved lower and his fingers tugged her dress further down to her stomach.
"Oh, my Anne. My beautiful Anne." He revered at her body, his hands wandering over the valley between her breasts. His lips placed slow kisses to the worn skin, making her whine in pleasure as he always did, her hands reaching to clasp his hair. His wrapped his lips around her nipple, her hands leaving his hair to extend past her head in pleasure.
"Richard, Jesú-" He laughed against her breast at her words, his hands moving along her sides to cup her jaw. He nipped at her neck, his teeth gripping the soft skin.
"You shall have to cover up tomorrow. I cannot restrain myself from marking you." He murmured, biting at her neck to make her roar with a moan. He crawled up her, sucking on her top lip, making her writhe beneath him. Her hands pressed against his nightshirt, tugging on the strings. He moved back, straddling her hips, then pulled his shirt off and threw it to the floor. He moved off of her, drawing her nightdress from her sides, his rough hands on the soft of her legs.
"Oh, my beloved Anne," He says, his voice strained and low, 'I am solely and irrevocably yours, my darling."
"Show me, Richard. Show me how you love me," She whispered, her hands cupping his jaw now, "Kiss me." He grinned, and instead of dipping his head to meet hers, he resolutely moved lower down her body. His fingers gripped her thighs, his hair brushing against her skin, and he moved his lips to caress the inside of her legs. He then pressed a slight, gentle kiss to her mound, her hands tugging on his hair as she moaned. As his tongue gently explored her, he inserted a finger to her entrance. She gasped, back arching, making him smirk against her cunt. He slipped in another finger, pumping them in and out of her, Anne's gasps and whimpers spurring him on further. He touched her tenderly, for he knew that this was like those other times of their lovemaking when all Anne needed was to be cared for. Normally, he might have left her there, begging for him inside her, but tonight he would bring her to completion twice. He wanted to distract her from the thoughts of children, no matter how much he wanted more. He never blamed her, for not being able to carry. She was slight and small, with a delicate body, and a child could put far too much pressure on her that she could bear. Their lives were stressful, and he knew from his mother that a stressed or fearful woman with child was not a good thing.
He attentively worshipped her body, swirling his tongue around her and thrusting into her with his fingers. Her breaths were faster, and she scrunched his hair, as she always did when she was reaching her climax. She whimpered his name, then let out a cry as she felt the waves crashing through her. He continued sucking and kissing, licking up every last drop of her wetness.
"Richard," She gasped, "Such a sinner, my husband." He laughed against her thigh, crawling back up her body to meet his lips with hers. She broke their lips, smiling up at him, and he noticed the lustful look in her eye. He raised an eyebrow, moving his hands to trace the freckles on her shoulder.
"I need you," She whispered in his ear, "Now."
Richard wasted no time in lining himself up with her entrance, teasing her with the tip of his cock. He slowly thrust into her, taking her body with gentle care. He buried his head between her neck and shoulder, covering her skin in more love bites. Her hands clasped around his neck as he rocked into her, his groans vibrating against her shoulder. He quickened his pace, making her jolt beneath him, his spare hand stroking her mound. One of her hands moved to stroke the hairs at the back of his neck, the other tracing her nails further down his back. He knew neither of them would last long, Anne was shaking and he could hardly compose himself. His thrusts grew more rough, giving her one final kiss on her neck before he spilled inside of her. Anne followed closely behind, clenching around him to heighten her pleasure. He collapsed beside her, pulling her body flush against his side.
"We're facing the wrong way," She giggled, nodding to their horizontal position on the bed. He chuckled, then awkwardly shuffled and rotated their bodies so that they lay on the pillows and sheets the right way. She gave a content sigh against his shoulder, a hand on the small of her belly, hoping, praying, for something to come of it.