#richanne

Anne! Oh, God, Anne!

Read the entire thing in just a few hours, couldn’t put it down. My God…my heart is broken. Everything feels so raw, so realistic, like I could truly feel what the characters were feeling. Richard and Anne’s relationship was portrayed beautifully, perfectly showing the love they had for each other to the end. But of course when Dickon died I cried…and how his enemies immediately began spreading their horrific lies after his death. My consolation is that he is with Anne now and his murderers are paying eternally for what they did. Thank God he was at least buried properly a few years ago (though far too late). I do think he should be buried with Anne, the love of his life.

multiple seasons obv would be the dream but if we're being realistic even a 10 ep limited series would be a miracle. I'm trying to move away from having every dream cast of mine be either callum turner and or margaret qualley and aneurin barnard is also out because his god tier über correct casting was wasted on the white queen so. thomasin mckenzie for anne!!!!!!!! and maybe harry gilby as richard I mean idk if he can act but the look is so deeply correct

For the past several months, I've been working on an AU Queen Anne Neville/King Richard III fic. It's a retelling of their courtship set in the Harry Potter universe. 🪄

Summary: As children, Richard York and Anne Neville were the best of friends, but that all changed when they went off to Hogwarts. Now, Richard, a sixth-year Slytherin, has come to realize he wants Anne, a fifth-year Gryffindor, back in his life… and as more than a friend, if she’ll have him. But the course of true love never did run smooth for there are many who seek to thwart their chances at happiness.

It's now posted over on AO3:

They are married before they have their real kiss. One of the kisses that isn’t quite a peck on a cheek or just graze of the lips. A real, passionate, warmth-flooding-through-the-body kiss. Anne will admit that she doesn’t know what she’s doing. She’s never kissed; the Lancaster boy never kissed her. He did his “duty” and went on about his night. If he was kissing anyone, she would guess, it was his mother. She pushed that thought out of her mind when she felt Richard’s lips go to her neck. She sucked in a breath and moved her head to give him more access. They have backed up to the bed now, both of them already undressed, and fall on it with a small bounce back. Richard knows what he’s doing, but what surprised and increased her desire for him more was the gentleness of it. He was the initiator of the contact but he was paying attention to her reactions, what actions caused her to moan and move closer to his touch and the ones where her body stilled itself or garnered no response other than reaching for him. She is glad, in the depths of her heart, that this is their moment. There is no witness to prove the marriage consummated, no white linen is placed beneath to prove her virginity, which she technically no longer has, no listeners at the doors. This moment is all their own.

— They have been married for six months now, and Anne feels as though this is the happiest she’s ever been, at least since her childhood with her mother, sister, and father in the earlier years. She realizes that has developed a habit, though she doubts it is a bad one. It’s a good one, at least she feels so. Watching Richard sleep and resting on his chest, feeling it slowly rise then fall, rise then fall again, his long beautiful and dark eyelashes falling against his upper cheek. He looks almost angelic. She can hear Izzy teasing her that she can not think to like him. No, sister, I love him. Sunlight beams though the slats of the shutters and she feels stir. She won’t finish waking him though: he can afford to sleep in and waking him would only end this moment of stillness. They are not royal duke and duchess in this bed chamber. They are simply Anne and Richard, Richard and Anne. And she loves that. They don’t have to worry about court, uprisings that need to be quelled, fortunes, and she’s sure she could only add further to that list. She places her head against his chest and listens to his heartbeat as her head moves with the rising and falling of his chest.

She feels his arm rise and grabs onto her head, running through the light brown hair that is free from any braid and hanging loose. She kisses his chest and then his lips, his sweet, sweet lips. “I hope I didn’t wake you, husband.” She says quietly. He smiles at her and kisses her lips. “Are you needed anywhere today?” she asks.

“No. As far as I know at this moment, I am completely free today.”

“Good.” She sounds like an excited child. ”Then I shall keep you prisoner in our bed.” She pulls him in for a kiss before he can protest. “And do not dare mention Court; they are not missing us.” She says against his mouth. “If your brother, King Edward, is understanding of anything, it is a woman who keeps her man in a bed.”

Richard laughs as he wraps his arms against her small frame. He, as always, as a gentle knight, her knight, moves her in a flip so he is above her, and they are now haphazardly on her side of their large bed. “Then I guess I shall be a most agreeable prisoner to my captor.”

Her hands touch his face and she pulls him downward for a kiss. “You are in my keeping.”

— They are still wiping sweat from her forehead even after the baby is out. He is small but it is to be expected because of her, because she herself is small. She hears the baby cry so she knows that it’s alive, which answers one of the questions that is always asked at the birth of a child. Is it healthy? Did it live? She sees the midwife with a wriggling bundle of cloth coming toward. She holds out her arms in order to hold what–no, who–she is being handed. Still, the nurses are wiping her head and neck from the sweat. “Let me see the baby, please.”

“It is a boy, Your Grace,” she midwife says with joy as she hands the baby off to his mother.

“A boy.” She looks at his fingers and then his toes, counting them. He has her eyes but she can tell he will have her husband’s dark hair. They pull a blanket over after removing the bloodied sheets. The main midwife goes to the door, cracking, and whispering to someone.

“You can let him in. Please. I want him here.” She knows that it’s her husband at the door. The woman steps aside at her response. It is customary for women to be churched before returning to society, and some didn’t even want to seen until theirs occurred. Anne was not one of those women. “Richard. Look.” She hold the baby slightly tilted, still rocking him to calm him. “A boy. A little baby boy. A duke.”

Richard looks a mixture of relief and joy. He’s trying to hide all of his emotions but failing miserably. Everyone knows the dangers of childbirth, for both the mother and the child. So, to make it, even the first few hours, he considered it a blessing. He walks over tentatively as though he were a deer in a clearing. “A boy,” he said, heavy emotion in his voice. “A sweet boy.” He is standing over by them both now, and rubs a thumb over his cheek. He kisses Anne’s head where her hairline starts, and he kneels down to look closer at his son. “Anne, thank you.”

“He is small,” she says, rocking the baby.

“He will grow,” he says, finishing her thought.

“He will.”