The Yorkist Rose

Chapter Text

Tewkesbury.

Edward had arrived early that morning, blood had been spilled and Lancastrian's lay dead at his feet. He stepped over them with care, trying not to touch them as though they were the plague, as though they would jump up and have him dead at any second. Hasting's on multiple occasions caught the young king as he tripped, received a thank you and they moved on. “Brother!” The call came from Gloucester and Edward walked in the young mans direction.
“Richard.”
“Some of the Lord's are in the abbey, seeking refuge.”
“The Prince of Wales?”
“Dead already.”
“Saves me a job. Who?”
“I.” George stepped up, gloating a little, as though he had saved the day again, only to see his brothers cool disregard, as though he had done nothing important. A few moment later Edward offered Clarence a nod and smiled, brotherly.
“Well done.”
“Thank you brother.” His tone was filled with sarcasm. Edward ignored it.
“About the lords your grace?”
“Ah, about them.” Edward looked away, cleaning the blade of his sword. “Kill them.”
“But your grace they are in sanctuary.” Hasting's sounded truly surprised, scared even. Only made worse when the king offered him a cold smile.
“And?”
“We cannot kill a man in sanctuary.”
“True, well I insist you don't. I would not dream of killing a man in a church.” He crossed himself casually. “Drag them out.”
“My Lord.” Richard had already turned with George and entered, dragging the lords out. Hasting's stood, sword in hand and looked awfully nervous he did not move. Edward sighed as he lifted his sword taking the heads off the men without effort. Before long Margeret of Anjou was brought before him, she knelt, reluctantly at his feet/ “Edward, when I last saw you, you were a little boy.”
“Dont speak.”
“Edwa-”
“Your grace to you.”
“Your Grace, I am queen.”
“Nay, Elizabeth Woodville, my wife, is queen, you are an imposter.”
“You betray your true king?”
“Your husband.”
“No, my son.”
“Alas he is dead.” a non-committal comment. As though he did not care.
“He...” The woman broke off into sob, Edward looked at her cold and impatient, as though she were a nuisance, a bug which he wished to squash, he glanced at his men and sighed, kneeling to the woman's height where he attempted to comfort her.
“Margaret.”
“You shall not speak to me, traitor, Usurper.”
He sighed and stood and with accuracy and to the shock of his men he used his sword to pierce the old queens heart and watched with callus joy as the woman died before him.