Work Text:
August 1472
They were married now. There were still times Anne could barely believe it. After everything that had happened, she and Richard were married. They'd barely been married a month, and had arrived at Middleham that morning.
She was home. Two years after leaving, with her family, Anne was back at Middleham. She did not like to think of what had happened. She did not like to think of her mother, now languishing at Beaulieu. She liked even less to think of her sister, lost her now due to George's machinations. She could not, would not think of her father.
No, her life had changed now. She was not Lady Anne Neville, daughter of the Earl of Warwick anymore, she was Anne Neville, Duchess of Gloucester, beloved wife of the powerful Duke of Gloucester.
And she was happy, in truth she was happier than she'd been in years. She was happy and secure for the first time since her father had begun having problems with the King. She would always be secure, because Richard would never have problems with the King. She was certain of that.
She turned her head on the pillow, and glanced at Richard, who was sleeping soundly. The light of the full moon was shinning through the window, and falling on his face, on a stray curl which had slipped over his forehead.
She gently pushed the errant curl back. “I love you.” She said softly, closing her eyes.
~~
July 1484
Richard could hear the waves crashing in. He'd brought Anne to Scarborough, she'd always liked it here. There had been times he'd noticed a ghost of a smile on her face. Times when her face was not as drawn by grief as it had been.
The grief was unbearable. He could not explain why God had chosen to take their Ned, to take their boy. Anne's only child. He could not comprehend, no matter how much time he spent on his knees in prayer, what sin he had committed, what transgression he was paying for. For what was perhaps the first time in their marriage, he did not have the answers.
He knew Anne did not think he'd noticed, that he didn't see how little she ate, that he didn't realize she was ailing. Perhaps he did not wish to realize it, perhaps he wanted to deny what his eyes were showing him.
He closed his eyes. “I cannot lose her too.” He said, not even fully conscious he'd spoken the thought aloud.