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𝑪𝑳𝑶𝑾𝑵𝑺𝑯𝑸𝑺 TAG YOURSELF

*/ starring @kingedwardplantagenet, @glorifiedcrown, @rodonluselim, @nicoleto-of-croatia, @ofitzroy, @wolf-of-york, @lskender

✨ - summon, banish, absorb.

summon — lizzie, always... what a simp.  banish — the french hoh hoh... not that he lets anger or hatred linger in his heart.  absorb — ??? i suppose, he’d like to absorb the confidence and bravado of harry.. it’s quite sad how he looks up to him. 

mariusdanjou​:

bold which habits your muse has

nail biting | throat clearing | lying | interrupting | chewing the ends of pens | smoking | swearing | knuckle cracking | thumb sucking | muttering under their breath | talking to themselves | nose picking | binge drinking | oversleeping | snacking between meals | skipping meals | picking at skin | impulse buying | talking with their mouth full | humming/singing to themselves | chewing gum | leg jiggling | foot tapping | hair twirling | whistling | eye rolling | licking lips | sniffing | squinting | rubbing hands together | jaw clenching | gesturing while talking | putting feet up on tables | tucking hair behind ears | chewing lips | crossing arms over chest | putting hands on hips | rubbing the back or their neck | being late | procrastinating | doodling | shredding paper | peeling off bottle labels | forgetfulness | running hands through hair | overreacting | teeth grinding | nostril flaring | slouching | pacing | drumming fingers | fist clenching | pinching bridge of nose | rubbing temples | rolling shoulders

location : the lisbon stables timestamp : june twentieth, late morning status : closed to @princethomas​

For years upon years Richard had claimed that he was a true member of the small, yet powerful, Fitzroy clan. Whereas a few years before he may have found slight hurt in the name, and an unawareness of what power came with it, Richard felt happy to call himself the brother of the legitimate Prince Thomas and to little Anne, who was soon to come off age. He clung to them as he did not his maternal or paternal house, and it was this love which pushed him to seek the same legitimisation. It was this love that fueled him with the kind of ambition you’d find in Princes or sons of Kings — he thought, perhaps plainly, that this was the only way he could secure a future for his family; Thomas, Anne, Elizabeth, Edmund and any future child he dare think off. 

He had planned to go riding with Thomas, a break from the usual monotony of social gatherings and card playing. At least there, too, they may simply be brothers as they had been in York, rather than their parents’ sons. Preparing each horse’s saddle, Richard turned when he heard footsteps - the very light in his eyes brightening as he rocked forward onto his toes. He was not unlike his own son, not far from his humble gaze. Edmund who was also a bastard, had grown steadily in the past two years, offering Richard an olive branch in the form of maturity and unthinkable levels of love. “Thomas! Come, you are late,” Richard teased in jest, patting the neck of his own steed before fixing the level of where his stirrups fell. “I thought we could ride south a little, just past the sprawl of trees… But I can’t be too late, I promised Lizzie I’d take her to her mother’s old haunts… You can come too, perhaps? Unless mother has asked for you again.”

Henry Füssli - Loneliness at dawn, 1794-1796.

✿ - Sex headcanon

so i got the sex headcanon memes weeks ago, so lets just get down to it tbf

We all know that before he got married and before he realised just what had grown between himself and Elizabeth Beauchamp, Richard had spent a lot of time with girls of various natures. As a boy he had often been doted on by the older women of court, but his eyes did not centre their focus till he saw how Harry was treated when Richard moved to court with his Fitzroy siblings, Thomas and Anne. He would watch as he disappeared with ladies-in-waiting and such, leaving Richard wondering what exactly he was missing. Was Harry a bad influence? Oh, absolutely. But Richard bathed in it, and lost his virginity aged sixteen to a girl of court who was around his age. 

He never tied up relationships with sex, and so Richard fucked his way through the noble girls who either wished to know the son of a King or who had little ambition of their own. When he ran out of them, Richard moved to lesser statuses - girls of the taverns, girls visiting the city; such was the model Harry had left for his younger brother, perhaps without his acknowledgement. 

real nsfw 

Richard is an attentive lover, and likes to take his time exploring and touching. He’s passionate, and has learned to wait till his lover has taken her full. Prefers to watch another take control, but is a soft boy who helps and leads an inexperienced hand. With Elizabeth, Richard will treat her with a respect he had never offered a girl before . Average in length??Maybe a lil more???  likes cowgirl tho it wouldn’t be called that ofc, enjoys eating girls out because he likes to watch the girl shiver and moan… will spend an abnormal amount of time on his wife !!! this guy just enjoys sex and enjoys what comes with it - would spend all day in bed if he is allowed to. when duties are done, you can most likely find dicky lurking around lizzie in case a moment arises.

sercphism​:

seraphina was quite familiar with the english king from years of diplomacy ( even before her marriage ) but in truth, she was not too familiar with the new queen nor her children. nothing much past formalities — she knew of them, of course. most business, regardless if it was between naples or florence, was done directly with the king. but in the name of general peace between all nations, seraphina thought it best to familiarize herself with all if not most dignitaries from every country.

“indeed, i am a few minutes’ ride away from the palácio da vila,” she responded with a smile, the portuguese rolling off of her tongue easily yet slightly noticeably unpracticed. “i just had and audience with your father, the king. we only had a brief conversation at the opening banquet, so brief that it hardly made up for two years since we last saw each other.” she shifted on the bench, offering a place for him. “lastly, i’m simply fascinated by greenery. i’m partial to an unkempt forest, but palatial gardens will have to do. and you, my lord? what brings you to the gardens on this fine day?”

 “I thought I’d stretch my legs, I fear I have become quite the bore since marriage,” Richard chuckled, brushing away the fall of his dark curls before planting his hands in his lap — looking ahead to the view and how the branches twisted above. “It is a beautiful garden, my lady… Do you feel quite at ease here thus far?” Richard mused, fingers itching against his knee as he moved to fidget. “How are you enjoying Portugal? I am sure the Sun is suiting you more than it does me — I find a quiet solace in grey clouds and a brisk wind… I fear England has taken me hostage,” offering a soft laugh before turning to her, eyes lost on her visage as he sat beside the Grand Duchess of Florence.

“Ah, my Lord father,” Richard hummed, his thoughts straying for just a moment. His relationship with Edward had been grand once he had been married and had taken his bastard son into his estate. Such tepid love had grown beneath the shade of others, but mostly, it was due to his eye wafting from him to his new child, and to his older brother’s new marriage. Richard found it easier that way, and instead found himself taking hold of his position as Earl of Richmond and envoy for England’s best interests. Yes, that life suited him better than one of a prince. “How was it? I do hope he wasn’t too harsh,” Richard laughed, offering a gentle happiness before taking the seat by her side. 

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williamoflancaster​:

“I haven’t the slightest what your father expects, but I highly doubt he has something so lofty in mind for me.” William declared, fairly certain that not even John would push for such an advantageous match for him. Would he marry someone that was a higher level of nobility than he was? Perhaps. Would he marry royalty? It seemed highly unlikely unless the world ran out of princes. “What I expect is that they’ll search out the marriage that brings the most power and security to England without also being an insult to the other party considering my station and once they’ve secured it, what I want will be inconsequential.”

The more they dwelled on the subject, the more it irritated William to think of what his life would be and it increased his desire to push away the idea of marriage for as long as he was capable of - not just to spite John and Edward, but to pretend for a short time more that marriage would be a choice instead of a duty. Pointlessly, pathetically romantic, he knew, but it was still a fact that wasn’t so easily denied. There were other things to focus on than his own life, however, things with more far reaching consequences.

“I do believe a drink is necessary to clear away the unpalatable taste of these subjects.” Just as a drink would likely make it easier to continue on with the events of the night and perhaps the alcohol would make it easier to sleep later one when he was able to slip away from all of the guests without anyone taking offence. “You’ll likely suffer through more talks than I will and for that I am glad. We’ll drink to both of us having luck in the coming days.” William said, returning Richard’s gesture of support with a clap on the back before moving in search of that drink.

The company Richard had chosen that evening were a group of fine men who had followed him from the Florentine taverns, to the skirmish of boys rough-housing and then to his Earldom of Richmond. They were, it seemed, as lost as the Earl and Richard, who had a fondness for people so lost, took them into his embrace. Housing them, feeding them and rewarding them for an unbroken loyalty. he was sure indeed that they would not mind the presence of another, after all, William was not an ageing Duke swept up by the past or a stubborn mule who would turn his nose up to men with no land or estate — or even legend.

 With the nod of his head, Richard put his arm around William’s shoulders and squeezed, his lips merrily stretched into a smile as he manoeuvred them back into the room that smelt of pine cones, the salt of the sea and the overwhelming spice of wine. Finding small comfort in rubbing his lips together, Richard hummed and walked towards the table he had been at before to grab a newly placed goblet of wine — seeking the jug of water to mix it with before turning back to William. Holding it up, he waited for the gentle knock of cups, Richard’s own sensations daring to traitor him — to send him back to those moments in the taverns where he had once found girls of questionable rebut. “To us and England, and our success!”

wolf-of-york​:

           Raising his eyebrows at Richard, he gave a soft shake of his head. “I must admit, I was not aware your wife was of Portuguese decent,” John admitted. If Richard was not family, he would have considered lying, disliking the very notion that he was not aware of something happening in his backyard. Granted, John had not been as involved in Richard’s life in the sense of love since the boy had gotten older and struck out on his own more. Although he married a girl of good standing, John was not knowledgeable about much of his wife’s background simply because she was out of his realm of interest. Apparently, he needed to learn more about this though, as it seemed the Portuguese were slowly invading England, one Plantagenet wife at a time. “I do hope the two of you get to enjoy the city then. I have yet to have a chance to explore much of it, but I have heard its beauty extolled.”

     This conversation would likely not achieve much in terms of strategic planning, but the boy was his nephew, and John did have a vested interest in his happiness, just not just his station. Should something upset Richard, it would most certainly distract for other goals, and Isabel would not be pleased. “I have been to Portugal in the past, yes. Although not for this long,” he explained. “Most of my visits abroad have been more brief,” the Duke was not fond of leaving England, and was more inclined to hire people to go on his behalf. “Usually only for the end stage of negotiations, or when your father bid me to go. Portugal has been our ally for years, however,” although it was entirely possible this was dicey at best at the moment due to the death of Lianor, “so there is little reason to send me here when there is work back home for me to be doing.” Clapping his hand on Richard’s shoulder familial, John did rub at his nephew a little, “but you, marrying into this country I have learned, well, I imagine you will come back at some point.”

Like a child eager to impress a role model, Richard followed his Uncle’s train of thought and leading boots onward — rocking forward onto his toes as they talked a little on his wife. It was perhaps foolish for his smile to grow as they talked on her, his eyes lighting up as if she was there himself or as if his wildest dreams came true. Oh, how dear he was for a wife — and how rare that was perhaps, to not find himself stuck like Edward and his first marriage (but then, Richard knew little of what happened to Lianor and how she had been as a person — he liked to think that she was a good mother and gentle soul, and that fate simply had different plans for her. But life was not that simple, he knew that now). 

His ears pricked to the sound of his past adventures, adventures made when Richard had been little more than a thought in his mother’s head. He had always found a fondness for the past, or the pieces of the world and its history that he could not see in books or scriptures. He wondered, what had changed? Did he feel the glare of the royal family or the forgiveness Isabel so wanted? In part, he wished to follow up his thoughts with questions, but instead he merely smiled and continued to hold his hands behind his back. “Perhaps, but I am an Earl now… My duties belong to the people I care for,” and if that were true, then why was he stuck against the realm of Portugal, rather than England? Partly accusing himself of not being attentive to his flock, Richard went to John and gestured for him to join. “Come, John… Join me and my company for a little while — I am sure we have plenty of time to dwell and question.”

isabellaanscarids​:

𝔬𝔭𝔢𝔫 𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔯𝔱𝔢𝔯

Her knees ached.  Isabella grimaced, shifting imperceptibly on the cushioned kneelers and wondering, once again, who had thought to embroider a kneeler with beads.  Though pretty enough to behold, they bit into the skin as Isabella knelt and she chewed the inside of her lip, as though evening out the spacing of discomfort could somehow help.

Isabella’s mother, Queen Blanche, had been arguably the holiest woman in Castile during her life, given to visions from God.  Isabella knew without having to ask herself that Queen Blanche would have told her to offer her suffering up to God.  I’ve had enough suffering, thought Isabella, blackly.  He can make do with that.  Her mother, she knew, would have been horrified.  

“Mass is ended,” said the priest at last in Portuguese-accented Latin.  “Go in peace to love and serve the Lord.”

“Thanks be to God,” intoned Isabella with the rest of the congregation, unbending stiff legs.  

She hardly heard the singing, as the cleric processed out of the church, and as soon as it was seemly to do so, speedily wound her way out of the church.  The soaring ceilings of the cathedral and its layers of stone had kept it remarkably cool, but the outside came as a blast of heat.  Still, she couldn’t mind as she felt perhaps she ought ot have done.  It would have been a boon merely to escape the drone of the priest’s voice, little less the embroidered cushions.  “It would have been better,” she sighed to no one.  “Had there been no cushion at all.”

Noting a patch of shade, Isabella picked her path towards it, gratefully sliding down into a bench at a tree’s base.  “At last,” she mumbled, and squeezed her eyes shut.  The dappled sunlight danced on her closed eyeslids, picking out radiant shapes in brilliant light, blurring, blurring, blurring…

Isabella’s eyes opened.  She sat up with something of a jolt, looking quickly around her in astonishment as she realized she had just awakened.  Distantly, she wondered how long she’d been asleep and glanced around her in a mad bid to orient herself.  Spotting a figure walking nearby, she popped up, grinning a self-directed grin.

“Excuse me!” she called.  “Have you any idea what the hour is?  It seems I fell asleep under this tree.  But then, perhaps I’m fortunate.  I feel utterly refreshed!  Tell me, do you fancy a stroll?  I hear Portugal is awash with beauty and I’ve a wish to see it.”

Lost in his own head, after mass Richard had strolled around the gardens to release the uncertain energies he would often offer up to long walks with his wolfhounds; the ones offered to his household by John Neville. Oh, he missed them — surely not as much as he’d miss his family but he missed them all the same. It seemed he was more understood by the dogs than by his sisters, brothers and parents. What an oddity that was to admit, as he paced beneath a well buried ash tree. 

He hears her before he sees her, turning quickly to find the source of the noise. Beneath the luscious leaves of Portugal, lay out a woman he could not recognise. By accent alone he suspected that she was of Iberian stock; but he somehow felt at odds by looking. Twisting his fingers into his outer jerkin (that seemed unfit for the Portuguese weather), Richard hummed and chewed into his inner lip. “Past noon, my lady!” He answered, calling out for her to hear him before taking a step closer, bowing his head to hear her voice over the call of birds and laughter of grown men talking diplomacy. He’d rather take a walk with a stranger than play party to those men. 

“Why, I do not see a reason why to deny such a stroll. I accept,” his smile soft he offered her his hand to take, only to get to her feet — he knew that his brothers (especially Harry) would be looking for reason to doubt Richard’s fidelity to his wife, but his love was all that devoured him — Elizabeth Beauchamp, who he still sought happiness with. 

“I am Richard Fitzroy, my lady…”

ＭＩＳＣＥＬＬＡＮＥＯＵＳ HEADCANNONS． (  created   by ｄａｎｊｉ， feel   free  to  repost  –  not  reblog. )

a song that reflects your character : this must be the place (naive melody) by talking heads / stop the world i wanna get off with you by arctic monkeys

a quote that reflects your character & why? : and his sadness is dionysian, black champagne his lamentation. he is a sea with a veild moon. his god is dead, but is not so. by else lasker-schuler, georg grosz. it is no secret that richard nurtures a string of morose thinking that leaves him almost engulfed at times !!

how do they characterize their childhood –– kind, gentle, raised up by figures who seemed to care... a rare upbringing in a world poisoned by greed and men who’d do anything to see themselves and their sons set upon a throne. he was nuzzled between the loving arms of the neville household in york; kept from court till his later years. his happy memories pre-elizabeth beauchamp come from his childhood - running with his uncle’s wolfhounds or playing hide and go-seek with his brother (and william neville, who was only a few years his senior). 

how does their childhood self differ from their current self? : sadness captures him if the slightest thing goes wrong, he is so different from the merry boy he once was that richard cannot quite remember a time when such darkness was never looming on the horizon. he worries over many a thing, his new family or his change of circumstance. he wishes for a legitimisation for them, but also fears such a status in case there is a revolt of some kind to the people he loves. in moments he feels at peace, though. especially when hunting with his own wolfhounds or playing with his son! 

describe a fond memory of theirs : the bell tower of florence, his hands roam elizabeth’s back till he holds her neck, his kiss is soft yet full with need. he thinks of it often, how elizabeth had reached out and saved him when he had teetered on the edge. he was certain that night that he’d die, cold and wet in the unforgiving winter’s rain. but she had come to pick him up, cleaning him off and shaking him free of the demons that lingered like a fire’s smoke.  

one in-game character, not directly related to yours, they are envious of : his envy dwells within the shadow of his older fitzroy brother due to his legitimisation in the eyes of the pope. but other than he, envy grows for albert of austria

one in-game character they would FIGHT : he would rough-house his older brothers, of course. he is a lover more than a fighter, and does not seek to hurt anyone.. the only time he has felt an urge has been with men found in taverns on drunken nights years ago. 

worth  :  20 pts.

williamoflancaster​:

“Be careful, Richard. You don’t want to give away so many wishes that you lose all agency.” It wasn’t specifically a warning against John, but more a concern in general since he didn’t wish Richard to grow into a puppet of the court and John wouldn’t be around forever. Oh, certainly, he imagined John would be playing puppeteer and guiding strings even while he was on his death bed, but he would like to think that Richard had more of a spine than to need John to guide is actions forever. No matter which side of his family you claimed that Richard took after, neither one was inclined to that particular sort of behavior in William’s opinion.

Nodding, Richard wasn’t telling William anything he didn’t know and it seemed to William as if he’d heard of Isabel’s desire to reach out to the East and to China from everyone but Isabel herself. Really, either he needed to talk to Isabel to find out what the urgency was with China, or England was being extremely short-sighted and single-minded. “So I’ve heard. Your father was prepared to offer me as a bargaining chip to the Chinese and I wasn’t amused. I’ve heard tale that a Chinese general is among the guests and I do hope to talk with him at some point, so I will do my part in seeing if a closer friendship with China can be obtained.”

He would also talk to representatives from other countries as well as even a friendship with a smaller country was better than having them as an enemy, the thought of which made him wonder just how Edward was doing with the royals of their host country. “Honestly, the idea that Isabel is responsible for her death is absurd. She died of grief, I fully belief that, but it was hardly the loss of Edward’s affection that caused her life to wither away.” William said dismissively. “But that’s a good lad, help keep an eye on your mother and sure none do her harm, I don’t wish to trust anyone until they’ve proven they desire it.”

“A bargaining chip?” Richard asked, almost shocked at the idea — not that he should’ve been, like Richard, William was simply a chess piece in a grand game. In time, he would be sent off to a making he had not prepared himself for. If it hadn’t been for Elizabeth and their timely reunion in Florence, perhaps Richard himself would be sent off to marry someone from another country — stuck in a loveless marriage like everyone else. He was lucky, he was very lucky and he knew that. But knowing and remembering were two different things, and so everyday Richard reminded himself with prayer and early-morning hours with his wife in their chambers. 

“Does father wish you to marry a Princess? Why, what a rise that would be for you, William. Is that not something you want? That you expect?” With a brow quirked, Richard went to sip at his water instead, listening with a keen ear. Though the mention of China had been new at first, it was also perhaps an essential match for England. And Perhaps the King, his lord father, was not so out of touch with the rest of the world. But then, Richard knew little of what really plagued the King. And he doubted Portugal would be the place where he would move past such missions. Portugal after all, was plagued with the enemies of the Nevilles and Fitzroys; after all, was Lianor really murdered? 

Richard could only nod along like a puppet, his hand clenched with his jaw mirroring the action. What was there to do but worry and ponder? He had spent too long cowering, surely enough was enough? With one more nod - mostly out of laziness and luck — Richard went to his Uncle and friend, his free hand clasped over his shoulder. “You are right, I am sure everything will be fine. Will you join me and my company for a drink? I think we should try and ease the pressure for the evening, I am sure talks of diplomacy begins tomorrow…”

beauchampx​:

        HE WAS HERS AND SHE WAS HIS. after their many years of running circles around one another, with eyes and plans focused elsewhere, none of it mattered for they finally stood together as husband and wife with hearts as light and childish as though they were mere children once more. together they became playful, gentle and so comfortable in the presence of each other that they could very well have become the same person. in her heart she knew that he knew her better than she ever did herself. richard had become the more energetic and fun side of her, bringing more greatness out of lizzie with each passing day and she never would wish for it to stop. he just made life GREAT for once. there was no charades, no playing games of the heart, it was all so simple and joyful in their still newly wed state. it was HEAVEN.

muffles, child-like laughter escaped lizzie as her lips were greeted by his own, gentle seeking to further untangle his jerkin so that her hands could rest upon the soft fabric of his chemise where they BASKED in the warmth that radiated from the pale skin beneath. leaning into him - regardless of where they were in the world - was akin to coming home. she had first poured her heart out to him atop the florentine bell tower as she was tangled in his arms, his warmth lulling her into a sense of security and safety which was unlike anything she had ever felt before and from that moment she knew that she was cursed to give into his ever whim if he would keep holding her thus. “ ricardo - ” the portuguese name she had originally called him in a bid to frustrate his mother during a time when lady beauchamp still pulled her daughter’s strings now held much more sentimental value now that they were to experience her mother’s homeland together. “ edmund is much wiser at his age than you or i are now, i trust he will not be such trouble with ladies as you have been. i pray for it nightly, actually. ” 

her smile never faltered for even a moment as she mirrored every step as he guided her, one hand leaving the warmth beneath his jerkin to rest upon the side of his neck as the emeralds within her eyes stole a moment to admire the handsome man he had become, the one she was blessed to adore and kiss as much as she wished; which she took advantage of in that very moment by pressing a lingering kiss beside the corner of his lips. “ i did not wish to wrinkle my skirts terribly whilst i got ready, i thought you might not mind too terribly when you returned. a portrait of myself, alone? ah - a weasel. just the one? i think at least three would be a good start, any help we may get is most welcome. … i still feel terrible, for getting your hopes up. i had so wished it were true, i was almost CERTAIN, though i fear god punishes me for being too boastful so soon. i shall not boast again. not until i know it to be completely true. though i suppose there is no worry a child shall bless us whilst here, is there? after all, you will be so distracted in your first appearance as an EARL at a gathering such as this; what ever will your poor wife do with herself in the meantime? ”

His laugh is muffled by her warmth, his tone and joy swaddled by Elizabeth’s lips as they lingered together like Honeymoooning sweethearts that had yet to grow tired of the usual skin and usual, satisfactory touches. How could he ever want anyone but dear Lizzie? How had he sought any other for so long? Imagine all the years, junctures and seconds lost in the English halls when he could’ve spent them in her arms. As soft as it was, Richard took each reflection and enveloped them into his soul. Running his fingers against her, he dared to touch and coax her forward, his features merrily buried into the softness of her neck, his lips peppering kisses upon her throat, before peering up to his wife — with eyes that began to all but plead for her attention, bartering for her love and affection before pressing his fingers into her skin; to allow her flesh to sink and rise beneath his velvet tips.

Resting his weight against her, Richard continued to feel the pulse upon his throat listening as his hands roamed against her linens, teasing at the gentle fabric with a smile that grew with every whisper from her lips. “I may reconsider going to the procession seeing you as such, perhaps I may miss it all to stay right here…” Richard mused, twisting the fabric of her underlines in his palm before giving a slight gentle tug. Though there was no pressure on Richard and Lizzie having a child as there was on Harry and Katherine’s part, it had been a shame to find that Lizzie’s premonitions had been in the wrong — to have a child with Lizzie would’ve been a blessing indeed, but he hoped that their time in Portugal would push his ambition to be legitimized; both for his wife and then for his children. “I told you, it's okay — there is no need to feel such regret, I’m sure it happens to all new brides…” With a gentle exhale, he took to pushing her reddened hairs off her face, exposing the gentle curve of her cheekbones as he kissed each flush of skin — he was lovesick, he was sure of it (it was at this point, in which Richard’s inner demon reared it’s head, taunting him forward, with the fact that everything — good and bad — ended).

Shifting his weight to lie beside her, he ran his hand up and down her side to reveal the curve of her waist and hips, watching as the sheer linens carved out of her physique as he hummed and sighed to her questions. Surely she of all people knew what he wished to do with his free time, as he wiggled his brows in jest. “I thought I’d leave you here all on your own some, surely you must practice posing for such a portrait?” He answered, leaving room for her to tease him in retaliation — playing at the games they had invented long ago before laughing out loud, his fingers dancing up to her tied ribbons, daring to unlace them with her admission as one finger hooked around such a delicate string. “I do not intend to be a new and shining Earl, I will act simply as your husband for this visit. See, I thought we could inquire to all those places your mother has told you about. We may trace back old footsteps, as it were. I thought, to some at least, we may bring Edmund too… You know all he desires is you,” Richard muttered, his voice soft and quiet before bringing his eyes up to meet her own. “Would you do me the honour? I can never unlace your damn knots..”

wolf-of-york​:

          The second eldest of Isabel’s brood, John had been around for Richards youth much more than that of her younger daughters, simply because Richard had been born during a much different time in even John’s life. Isabel had only been Edward’s mistress, not the Queen of England. It meant that John got to see his nephew grow from a small child, running about the castle like a hooligan, to a grown man, with his own family and Earldom. Richard had always been an inquisitive man, wide eyed and looking up to John. The Duke tried to keep this in mind when he spoke to the man, remembering that he was a grown adult now, not someone who was wide eyed and needing of protection. But he was still a Neville, and John had a vested interest in his success.

     Smiling at the man when he saw where John was coming from, he moved to clutch the boys shoulder in familiarity as well. “God be good and willing, Richard, you will never be a King, but you are entitled to the benefits of your true station, as is your wife.” John would prefer to see Richard’s elder brother on the throne, simply because the eldest had the right and was much more prepared, in his opinion, to take the crown. However, for the safety of succession, Richard needed to be legitimized lest the only other legitimate Neville - Plantagenet be female, as it was at the moment. “I know it would please your mother, and me, to see you treated as you deserve. Now, as for her other matter of China, I admit I do not know what she is doing, only that your father mentioned it to me that she was interested in new prospects out east. Just keep your ear to the ground, dear nephew, and tell me if anything of interest comes to find you in terms of new alliances that we previously had no considered.”

As is your wife, he heard. Richard’s ears pricked at the mere mention and sentiment, leaving the son of the King’s cheeks to flush red. He was right, even if Richard desired no part in the race to their father’s inheritance, Elizabeth deserved the highest of standings. To be married to a King’s son would be enough to set her for life, if anything was to happen to Richard himself. It’d also settle the matter of his future children — dear Edmund would still be in question, and that Richard had chosen to settle on his shoulders for life.

(But if there was anything he could do to secure his future in turn, he’d do it — Richard had all but became a man of honour and word, hoping to right the wrongs taken in his past). 

Then there was the matter of his mother, the one parent who had taken on the senior role of caregiver — he had always hoped to make her proud, as if to see her smile when his back was turned. With a shift of his weight, Richard looked to John and met his eye with a faux confidence he had perfected over the trying years and lasting hangovers or a night spent in those dark taverns. “I will try to seek some relationship with them, though I must admit that I wish to spend this time also helping Lizzie travel to various spots her mother once lived within... Did you know that her mother was Portuguese? She had never quite liked me,” Richard mused, wagging his tongue about the mother-in-law he had yet to meet, as if he was sharing gossip with someone more suitable than his ambitious uncle. But, this was an easy subject, and not one to dwell on. “Have you ever been here? To Portugal?”

𝖗𝖎𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖗𝖉 𝖋𝖎𝖙𝖟𝖗𝖔𝖞 & 𝖊𝖑𝖎𝖟𝖆𝖇𝖊𝖙𝖍 𝖇𝖊𝖆𝖚𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖒𝖕

“elizabeth, i love you,” the confession was honest, a gut-wrenching truth that kept creeping back up his body in spite of it all. “i think i always have… you are… you are so, so adored,” richard whispered, almost pleading for her answer or at least her softest answers in the hope to protect both his body and soul as he loosened his grip from her hair, her red locks untangling from his fingers to fall back against her shoulders. all he could do, with the truth still metallic against his tongue, was wait. “i love you.” (x) // @beauchampx