❝you think Achilles was of impressive descent?
touch me one more time❞
The one where King Edward IV is captivated by Charlotte Neville and their love has far-reaching consequences. For Charlotte had a place in Edward's heart no one could tear her fr...
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"We should not be out here, Your Grace," the guard whispered, scurrying behind the Earl of Warwick as they made their way through the dark forest, only the light of the moon lighting the path ahead.
"If His Majesty..." the guard started to say, hoping that the mention of the King might be enough to dissuade his lord from his path.
Warwick laughed at his words, pausing and turning to the young guard that had come with him.
"He'll never know we're gone, he'll be between a whore's legs for the rest of the evening," Warwick replied crudely.
Turning back the way that he was going, Warwick continued on his walk towards the hut that was in the middle of a clearing deep in the woods.
The mud under his feet and the train of his cloak was dragged through the dirt. Climbing over the stream using the rocks to guide the way, Warwick clutched at his cloak, knowing that ruining the bottom would be hard to explain. It was best if it could be avoided.
The air around them was still and Warwick was certain that if anyone was following them that they would hear them; though he had been careful to sneak away without anyone's notice. It was not long after the stream that they were greeted by the sight of a hut that had certainly seen better days.
"We should not go in," the guard trembled, fingers clutching at his thin cloak and he stared at the hut knowing that such things were forbidden and dark. He did not understand why the Earl would want to come to such a place.
"Of course, we should," Warwick insisted pulling away from the younger man, he marched towards the hut knowing the guard would follow.
Pushing aside the poorly made curtain that covered the entrance, Warwick wrinkled his nose at the smell that greeted him as he pushed his way inside. The room inside was dark with very little light coming from the fire at the centre.
There seemed little inside and the darkness did little to help his sight, his eyes sweeping the room in desperation for the sight of the one that he had come to speak with. When his eyes landed on the slumped form of a figure on the other side of the fire, he slowly moved around the flames towards where it had been slumped.
The odd things that littered the room did little to gain his attention, he cared not what they were only what their owner could do for him. This was heresy and if anyone were to discover that they had come here, then both would end up executed. But if he was correct — and he was certain he was — this was the witch the whore of Anjou had visited.
"Get out," croaked the woman in darkness, she looked around, her eyes bleary from sleep and she eyed the two men that dared darken her door; she wished to sleep in peace but it was always the same with these nobles.
They only cared what she could do for them, she stared at them wondering why they would come to her home uninvited; she could see from their finery that they were not any of the locals from the villages around here.
