March 1509

The two youngest children of King Henry VII and Queen Elizabeth of York are greeted amicably as they reach Richmond Palace. Accompanied by their staff and tutors, Princess Mary and Prince Edmund made the haste journey at the request of their grandmother, Margaret Beaufort. Ever since the death of his eldest son, Prince Arthur, the king's health had been steadily declining, with a severe bout of illness plaguing him every winter. It was feared by Margaret that this particular onset of symptoms would be the ones to finally pull him to his grave, thus prompting her to summon her grandchildren to Richmond so they may be near their father in his suspected final weeks.

The ten year old Duke of York is helped off his horse, keen to stretch his legs after the journey. Edmund, the exact likeness of his father, is every inch the Lancastrian Prince, unlike his brother Henry, who is much more similar to his York ancestors. Waiting a few moments for his sister to join him, the two then make their way into the palace, eager to escape the early spring chill.

The court is not as lively as Edmund remembered it to be. The last time he visited the court was Christmastide the previous year; while his father was not able to attend all the festivities, the court was still a vibrant place, filled with excitement and activity. It was the opposite now. While the truth about the King's condition has been kept a secret, the court still feels the effects of it. There is a palpable gloominess, and walking through the Great Hall, usually full of energy and colour, Edmund feels like he has been transported to another world.

At the advice of the men in the stables, the pair make their way through the palace towards the Queen's chambers, intent on greeting their mother. Practically reigning as Queen regnant at times due to her husband's condition frequently flaring up, Elizabeth of York had become more of an idea than a real person to her two youngest children, who had seen very little of her since Prince Arthur's death. Neither child exhibited much excitement over seeing their mother for the first time in months.

"Your Grace." Mary greets on behalf of both herself and Edmund as the two curtsy and bow respectively. There are no warm familial greetings between the three. Elizabeth returns with a polite, "Edmund, Mary," and gestures for her ladies to leave her chamber.

"I am to assume you have heard the news of your father, the King?" Elizabeth sits, motioning for Edmund and Mary to do the same. Her business-like demeanour makes the conversation feel like one of state, rather than personal, importance.

"Yes, Your Grace. My Lady the King's Mother urged us to travel here as soon as possible." Edmund responds.

Elizabeth's hardened, regal exterior cracks just slightly. "He is gravely ill, children. I fear if it is not his lungs which kill him, it would certainly be his inability to eat."

It had always surprised Edmund to see how much his parents cared for one another, especially after learning about his family's history of the previous century. Looking at his mother now, he was still surprised by it. Despite her emotionless façade, Edmund could see the worry and helplessness in her eyes. Eyes that were so much like his own, yet not. Glancing over at his sister, Mary, he found the same eyes staring back at him.

"May we see him, Lady Mother?" Edmund asks, turning his head back to Elizabeth. The personal address of kin appears to soften the Queen, as if she has just remembered that she is speaking to her children, and not acquaintances.

"The King is being attended to by his physicians presently. I shall send someone to you afterward so you may visit him." Edmund and Mary both give their thanks.

"Is he afflicted by the same ailments as the last time?" Mary asks.

"I am afraid so. And they seem to worsen with every day that passes." Elizabeth rises, royal protocol ensuring that her two children do also. Stepping towards them, she takes one of their hands each within her own. "I am so glad you are both here. Please pray for your father's recovery, children. Until then, the King's Mother has organised rooms for you here at Richmond. Settle in, and then perhaps you can join me for supper?"

Mary and Edmund agree with their mother's suggestion, and bid her farewell, being led to their temporary lodgings by one of the Queen's ladies. Following the young woman, the two whisper between themselves.

"I cannot believe our mother asked us to have supper with her!" Hisses Mary. "I fail to remember when she last expressed an interest in us."

"She is our mother, Mary, of course she would have an interest in us. She has not seen us since the New Year." Edmund says, his voice hopeful.

"Oh, Edmund." Mary states, a clear belittling tone in her voice. While most of the time, the three year age gap between the two of them was not the cause of much conflict, it became extremely evident now. Barely six years old when Arthur died, Mary had faint memories of her mother before she became the distant figure she is now. Edmund on the other hand, had no memories of the doting parent she used to be. This led to a tenseness between them whenever Elizabeth of York was mentioned; although Edmund understood the customs he and his parents must follow as members of the royal family, he still held his mother in high regard. Mary, on the other hand, held a slight resentment towards Elizabeth, and her clear favouritism of their older brother, Henry.

"Here you are, my Lord." The lady turns around towards the prince, bowing her head and gesturing to a closed door beside her.

He nods a thanks to the lady, and does the same to Mary, murmuring a polite, "sister," before he enters the room.

It is a modest chamber. Nowhere near that of his mother's where he had just been, but comfortable for a boy of his status. Inside, two ladies are finishing preparing the bed, while a third has her attention on the fireplace. Noticing his entrance, they all pause their work and curtsy, waiting for his permission to continue which he quickly grants.

As the women soon after leave the chamber, a man enters followed by two men in green and white Tudor livery carrying a chest. Edmund's face lights up at the presence of his closest friend, George Stanley. The grandson of Margaret Beaufort's late husband, George was brought to Eltham when Edmund started his formal education, so the prince would have a male companion closer in age than the adults who usually accompanied him. Almost sixteen, the dark haired boy was beloved by Edmund, and where one was, the other was sure to follow.

"Good day, Ned." George swipes his cap off his head and gives his friend a quick bow. "I've organised for your most favoured belongings to be brought to your chamber. As well as a change of clothes and linens."

Edmund watches the men set down the chest and open it, revealing crimson robes similar to the ones he is currently wearing.

"Thank you, George." Turning his attention to the two men, he orders, "I should like to change now."

They obey, removing the robes from the chest, and helping Edmund change into them. Feeling fresher after a change of clothes, the boy sits on the bed.

"I am to have supper with my mother, the Queen." He tells George. "She says she fears for the King's life."

George hesitates, unsure of what to say to his friend. "His Grace has recovered from similar ailments in the past, Ned. I am quite sure he will be well."

Despite having limited contact with his father throughout his life, Edmund had grown to admire and respect him, and the thought of losing him pained him more than he could bear. Sensing his worry, George stepped forward, placing his hand on Edmund's shoulder.

"You mustn't worry, my Lord. Our prayers will see him strengthen again."

There is a knock at the door, which George goes to answer. It is one of the Queen's ladies, asking after Prince Edmund as the Queen is preparing for her supper. With a few more reassuring words from George, Edmund follows the woman, trailing her back to where he was only an hour ago.

Walking into Elizabeth of York's privy chamber, he is greeted by his mother, Mary, and, unexpectedly, his brother, Henry, who rises from his seat and playfully pulls his brother into a hug.

"Edmund! How are you, brother?"

Edmund may be tall for his age, but he is still nowhere near the height of his older brother, who towers over him. Looking up at him, he replies, "I am quite well, Your Highness."

"Henry." He insists, patting him on the shoulder.

The two brothers certainly had an odd relationship. The few years they spent together at Eltham were divided by their eight year age gap; while Henry was learning swordsmanship and practicing archery, Edmund was still suckling from his wet nurse. And yet, they possessed a solidarity between them caused by them both sharing the title of Duke of York, a title saved for the "spare." Remembering how ignored he felt watching his brother Arthur receive all the attention as Prince of Wales, Henry always made an effort to ensure his younger brother did not feel the same as he took over the position. There was, therefore, a mutual respect between the two, as each acknowledged the other's position and how they were regarded because of it.

The brothers go to their seats opposite each other. The four eat pleasantly, making an effort to not talk about the King in their mealtime conversation. The topic drifts to Katherine of Aragon, who is waiting to be churched. Thanks to Elizabeth of York, the betrothal between Prince Henry and the Spanish widow had been pushed through, and the pair married just after Henry's seventeenth birthday. Not long after, Katherine revealed herself to be with child, and during Christmastide, Edmund remembered her pregnancy being big news at court, with her swollen belly beginning to show, and her face glowing with joy. The happiness was not to last, however, as the princess delivered a stillborn boy in February, shortly before entering her confinement. Despite the loss, Henry does not appear burdened by it, and instead shares that he has no doubt they will soon have a son.

After supper, Elizabeth tells her children they may visit their father. Edmund's stomach churns, nervous as to what he may see. Elizabeth leads them through to the King's chambers, where only Margaret Beaufort accompanies her son in his bedchamber.

King Henry is propped up by his pillows on his bed, almost completely swallowed up by the blankets covering his frail body. His eyes flick over to his visitors.

"Elizabeth." His voice comes out hoarse and breathy. She steps forward, leaving her children huddled near the doorway, nervous to step forward. Reaching her hand out, she grabs that of her husbands, his bony fingers far colder than the rosary beads wrapped around them.

"Edmund and Mary are here, Henry." She looks over and beckons them forward. They creep up beside their mother, with the younger Henry moving to stand beside his grandmother, who is knelt on the other side of the King's bed, clutching his hand.

"My children." Edmund's ears almost sting at the words. The fondness he usually addressed him with was veiled behind the pain of simply speaking, being practically stripped away entirely, just as his voice was stripped down to merely a whisper.

"We will be staying here till you are well, Father." Mary, just like her mother, is able to mask the fear and uncertainty in her voice, speaking as though this is a mere cold that he will quickly recover from.

"You both have grown." The King notes. It may have only been a matter of weeks since he last saw the pair, but his comment was certainly true. Mary had been rapidly blooming into womanhood since her menses, and Edmund was growing out of his clothes almost faster than the time it took to make them.

Mary continues her polite conversation with her father, but Edmund can barely speak. It takes a nudge from his sister to mumble out a, "I am well, Father," when he is asked. The sight of the withering king is too much for him. His mind is plagued with the thoughts of his demise, that a man who fought so fiercely for everything he has, and returned England to peace, will die of a mortal disease. He is not deserving of such a death. Glancing over at his brother, Edmund wonders what will come of him when Henry succeeds to the throne. The second son of the man who reclaimed the throne for Lancaster and united the houses. Certainly not the hoped for combination of both houses that they got in Arthur, but Henry is most definitely beloved by the people of England. He was confident in his brother's ability to rule; that is what his mother's priority had been for the last seven years, after all. But what about Edmund himself? He couldn't help the anxiety that grew over the thought of his life after his father's death. But most of all: he admired the man. Although he saw him quite irregularly, and did not know much about him on a personal level, he still was proud to be his son.

"All will be well." Elizabeth's words pull Edmund out of his thoughts. He can't remember what had been said beforehand to prompt the response, but the words are reassuring. His eyes catching on his parent's clasped hands, with Henry's rosary beads poking through their fingers, he is reminded of the strength of prayer, and that if his father does not survive, then Edmund must not question God's will.

A/N: Yes, Elizabeth of York is alive in this story... I'm making the most of the butterfly effect! :)