~My Very Own~

25th of July 1474, Middleham....

All she knew was pain. Her limbs felt as if they were being torn from her sockets, her head was pounding and sending waves of the most sickening nausea she had ever experienced. Sweat trickled down her forehead, made her nightgown cling to her like a second skin, mingling with the blood that coated her legs and the bed below her.

Any food that was offered to her, she turned away, any water that she weakly sipped upon would be vomited back up in mere minutes.

Her throat was rubbed raw so that it hurt when she gasped in what air she could, rendering her unable to speak, the only noises escaping her being screams and groans of agony.

Her vision shifted oddly, sometimes darkening so that she feared she would go blind, sometimes blurring so that the caring figures of Marie, Anais, Anne and the midwife twisted into faceless creatures that moved around her, mocking her, taunting her.

She could not hear their encouraging words, their pleas for her to stay with them whenever she seemed on the brink of unconsciousness.

A part of Eleanor wished that she would slip away from the world at times, that God would grant her just a moments rest from the hell that had become the labour of her fourth child.

But it was not to be and she forced her weary body to continue while tears filled her eyes, streamed relentlessly down her cheeks, her only salvation being the damp cloth that mopped at her brow.

She wished Richard was by her side, wished that he could hold her in his arms, stroke her hair, even simply be in the same room! But he was banned from the bedchamber until the babe was born even though he had more than once demanded to be let inside to aid his wife.

Anne had kept him at bay when he had all but forced the door open with Francis by his side. She had somehow managed to push him from the room, her thin arms suddenly seemingly possessing the strength of the finest knight as Anais joined her. Together they sent the two men from the chamber, though Richard was craning his neck to try and see Eleanor until the door was slammed in his face and locked.

He could not bear to hear her screams but could neither bear to leave his position pacing outside of the door. He had promised to never leave her while she suffered. And he would not leave her now.

Francis watched him from where he leant against the corridor wall, silently wondering to himself what it would be like to be worried about his own wife so much. But, try as he might, the only woman he could ever imagine caring for was Anais. Sweet, funny, beautiful Anais. His Anais.

She was the keeper of his heart.
Yet she was someone he would never be able to have....

He jumped, snatched roughy from his thoughts, as another one of Eleanor's heart wrenching screams echoed throughout the castle and was instantly glad that they had sent the children on a visit to the nearby Bolton Castle with Jack.

There, they would be out of the way, little Bess and Matilda would not be able to hear their Mother's pain, would not fear for her. And neither would Eliza, Isabel, John or Katheryn!

Inside the chamber, Eleanor could barely breathe as she sobbed out her cries, pushing with all the strength that she held. Her hands wrapped around those of Anne and Marie, grasping for support, for a remedy to her pain while her mind spun.

With one last push, she suddenly felt herself collapse into the covers of her bed, her legs immediately coming to her chest as she curled up like a child. Shouts of joy and a baby's cry echoed in her ears but her mind neither registered nor payed attention to them.

As the last of her strength dwindled away her vision began to darken, only this time it did not brighten again.

Darker and darker the room became.

Quieter and quieter the voices of those around her sounded.

Gentler and gentler the hands that tried to shake her awake felt as Eleanor let unconsciousness claim her body and she slipped away into a world of silence.

꧁꧂

As Eleanor tried to open her eyes she felt the blood slowly returning to her limbs as if life was re-entering her body, warming her, waking her.

One by one, she managed to move her fingers, and then her toes, wiggling them beneath the covers, before she finally found the strength to open her eyes. Broad daylight struck her vision, almost blinding her and she was tempted to snap her eyes shut once more after finding herself content in the warm world of sleep that had claimed her for near upon five hours.

Weakly holding up a hand to shield herself from the light, she grimaced as she shifted slightly into a sitting position, leaning back against her pillows. Her eyes scanned the room for any signs of her friends but Anais, Marie and Anne all seemed to have vanished, leaving only the soft song of birds calling through the open windows.

And Richard.

He was sitting by the hearth, his head bent over a bundle of blankets that he held in his arms. A soft smile curved the corners of his lips, one that reached his eyes, made them glow with love for the little person that he cradled protectively against his chest.

With eyes of deep blue, just the same as his, his newborn son stared up at him in a comforting silence. The little boy was perfect, made Richard's heart sing with pride as he gazed upon him. A light dusting of fluffy brown hair covered his head, a single lock curling slightly and his cheeks were plump, rosy with colour.

He made not a sound, was content to be wrapped in silken blankets and held by his Father. It was almost as if he knew his mother was sleeping nearby, needed rest after his birth and so he was waiting patiently to meet her.

"My child" Eleanor said softly, seemingly entranced by the sight of her husband and their baby. Richard looked up at the sound of her voice, relief flooding across his face as he saw she was well and smiling at him.

Rising from his chair and grinning down at his son, he padded over to the bed, almost jumping for joy when Eleanor held out her arms, her strength seemingly quickly returning to her, fuelled by the desire to see her little one.

"We have a son" Richard murmured as he handed their boy over to his adoring Mother, laughing as Eleanor gave a cry of pure delight, began to press loving kisses to the baby's forehead.

She had a son! At last she had her son, her very own boy. An heir for Richard. As she stared down at the little one in her arms, Eleanor's vision began to blur, though not from pain, the uncertainty of consciousness that had been the centre of her world mere hours ago, but tears.

Tears of happiness, laughter, love that made her clutch her boy tighter to her chest, her joyous giggles filling the chamber as she reached out a hand to pull Richard down beside her.

"He is perfect!" She breathed, settling against his chest and smiling as his arms encircled her shoulders in a loving embrace, one hand gently combing through her curly hair "we have a son Richard!" Another laugh escaped her as she brushed a finger lightly over her son's hair before looking up at her husband "well I think I have earned a decent kiss, n'est ce-pas?" She teased, making Richard grin and nod.

Titling her head up with his hand he kissed her jaw, his lips brushing along her skin until he reached her lips.

The kiss was warm, loving, made a hot flush creep up Eleanor's neck as she leant into it, silently seeking more as she parted her lips until their son suddenly gave a disgruntled shout, a stern determination in his voice.

The pair instantly broke away from each other, grinning sheepishly as children might while they both blushed before looking to their little boy who was staring between them with a tiny pout on his plump lips.

"You must have patience, my perfect Prince" Eleanor cooed, tapping his button nose "you cannot steal me all for yourself!"

"Indeed not!" Richard declared solemnly, though there was an edge of jest in his voice that reflected in his smile "what shall we call him? Our little Prince of the North?"

"George" Eleanor announced firmly, though she could see the slight surprise that lit up her husband's eyes curiously.
"George?" He repeated, tilting his head a little while he held out a finger for his newborn son to curl a tiny fist around "after my brother, I take it?"

"You take correctly, my Lord" she replied with determined nod "This little one shall be George of Gloucester, your brother's namesake though do not fret" she patted his hand "One day you shall have your own little namesake from me!"

"I doubt it not, and if it is your wish that our son be called George then George shall be his name!"
His words were rewarded with a grateful smile, followed by a giggle as baby George began to gurgle in his Mother's arms, almost as if he were agreeing with their choice.

Eleanor looked down at him adoringly for he was nothing short of perfection in her eyes (rather unlike his namesake). Her perfect little Prince, her very own son and one day he would rule the North just as she and his father did.

꧁꧂

August 1474....

The Duke of Gloucester beamed as he proudly looked upon the great hall of Middleham Castle. The walls were hung with the most colourful of tapestries that were lit bright by the hundreds of candles that surrounded the room, shadows dancing playfully on them as the dancers spun and hopped from foot to foot.

The finest food and drink filled each goblet and plate, each seat was filled with a nobleman or noblewoman that had come to celebrate the birth of little George of Gloucester. Their clothes shone, the finest silks and satins with golden and silver threads adorning them, patterns of mythical creatures and York roses dancing across the material.

Each were bedecked in their finest jewels, no more so than the Duke and Duchess of Gloucester who sat upon two ornate thrones that were seated on the deep blue and murrey velvet dais at the head of the hall.

A roaring fire had been struck behind them, surrounding them with a regal glow that made the Duchess' ruby and diamond crown shimmer as her head moved, her loose mass of copper hair tumbling over her shoulders in curls of fire. She appeared almost as a Goddess of flame, a true Queen in her deep red gown, golden phoenixes embroidered in silk upon the hanging sleeves trimmed with the finest sable fur. 

A stark contrast to the Goddess of the Water from whom she was descended.

She held baby George proudly in her arms, rocking him slowly back and forth while he stared up at her with his father's deep blue eyes. That night she had set him free of his swaddling bands and dressed him in a little gown, stitched by Anais, that was the same hue as hers, held a white boar and golden Phoenix on its front, the sigil of his proud parents.

With every minute that passed she could only feel her love grow for him, her pride in his self control making her lean down to kiss his forehead.

Had Bess or Matilda or any other babe for that matter been placed in a hall full of music and strangers at a month old they would have screamed at the top of their little lungs, understandably so, their face screwed up and reddened.

But baby George did not. No, he acted the perfect York Prince, letting himself be passed from noble to noble while his parents watched on, letting the children (though they were by that late hour in bed) stare at him for as long as they pleased.

"I love you, my little Prince" Eleanor murmured as the musicians struck up another Merry tune on their lutes and drums and the little toothless grin that spread across baby George's lips made her heart soar.

"Dance with me, my love!" Richard invited as he placed down his golden goblet, gesturing for a servant to refill it before he stood, holding out a hand to Eleanor. He was dressed in the same red velvet and black fur as she, had his ducal crown placed on his head as if he truly were a King in a kingdom of his own!

Many, it was said, across the land considered him to be such.

The Duchess grinned at him from beneath her lashes, trying to remember a time when he had been in better spirits for it seemed now as if nothing could tear him down from the clouds of joy upon which he bounced back and forth.

He could now be found working in his study with a smile on his face, not the usual frown that was almost always etched into his features, and attended to his duties with lighthearted a spring in his step. He also had had a burst of generosity, showering all who resided in the castle with gifts daily, especially Eleanor and the children.

Turning to Marie (who was stood close by) the Duchess kissed her son once more before handing him into her friend's care. Less than a moment later she found herself swept from her seat into Richard's loving embrace, one of his arms placed around her waist while he escorted her to the centre of the hall.

At the sight of the Duke and Duchess about to lead a dance, their friends immediately made to join them, Rob letting out an excited whoop as he grabbed his Nell's hand, all but dragging her from her seat while she giggled. Jack lead a rather tipsy Anne to stand behind them while Francis manage to steal Anais from under Marie's nose, whisking her away before the older woman could protest.

Harry joined too, leading a rather reluctant Catherine to stand beside him, though she smiled around at the onlookers, pushing her golden hair behind her shoulders.

As they turned to face one another, Eleanor could not help but smile at her husband and at the sight of their friend's surrounding them.
It was if suddenly she was safe from all harm, from all that would seek to hurt her or her family. There was nothing but love in her world at that moment and she allowed herself to bask in its warm glow.

"I'm so happy, Richard!" She cried, taking his hands in hers, squeezing gently as she tried to search for the words that would describe the dizzying emotions she felt "so very very happy!"

"And I am so in love" he returned, pulling her closer for a moment so that he could gaze into her eyes. Eyes he would swear to happily downing in if he were ever allowed, two precious emeralds that held the key to his adoration "in love with you....I have never loved as much as I love you in this moment, Leena" he lowered his voice to a soft murmur that only she could hear "You are my heart, my mind, my very soul....and I will love you until the day that I die"

"Richard Plantagenet!" Eleanor giggled, a scarlet blush staining her cheeks that was almost the same colour as her gown "even God himself could not have predicted the love I have come to bear for you....but now I cannot imagine loving another living soul and do not want to...." her words were halted, her breath caught in her throat as Richard's lips were suddenly against hers, his hand cradling the side of her face.

"If we are not careful we may have those two making love right here!" Rob called, making Eleanor blush furiously and hide her reddening face in Richard's doublet while he chuckled.

"Robert Percy!" Nell chided, elbowing him in the ribs while the others began to laugh, roars of merry laughter filling the warm hall.

"I second that!" Harry yelled over the merriment "begin the music before we are blinded"
"For once I agree with my husband!" Catherine added with a grin, signalling to the musicians "and if that has happened then we must be in the right!" She waved her hand, rings glittering in the torchlight "play on!"