fic rec
To Take Is Not To Give, by lareinenoire, Part 1 of more. Shakespeare, Henry VI/Richard III, 1930s AU, PG-13, Richard/Anne eventually, but the first part is gen, and indeed focuses more on the Yorks than on Richard/Anne. Contains a lot of offstage but still really disturbing violence. lareinenoire does a totally awesome job with the York family, and this fic is a fine and shining example thereof. She also makes me wish that Richard and Anne could somehow have worked it out and lived crankily ever after. Anyway, go read this fic; it is full of all the incredible awfulness the material deserves.
"What was it, Mother?" Ned finally asked, when the car had begun to make its way west along the Strand. "What does Father need you to do?"
She turned away from the window, blinking, as if startled by the question. "Papers. Incriminating, one might say. I know where they are. Why your father hasn't told you, I can't possibly imagine."
"He's got enough on his mind, Mother. He doesn't want to worry about you too."
The look she gave Ned could have felled a horse. "Edward York, you are far too old to say such idiotic things."
"Mother!" Ned glanced at Richard, who held up his hands in defeat. "Very well."
Richard found himself gazing from the window as Ned fidgeted in the seat beside him. Then, out of the blue, Ned remarked, "I saw you talking to Bel's sister."
"Bel? So we're on a nickname basis now, are we?" Richard jibed, earning himself a punch in the shoulder. "What? Low-hanging fruit." He shot their mother a glance, but she was preoccupied with staring blankly through the window, pale face framed by a halo of silvery fox fur. "You don't think they'll hurt Edmund, do you?"
"He's just a kid," Ned murmured. "They did it to catch Father's attention. It worked, that's for certain."
"Edward." Both of them turned at the sound of their mother's voice. "Give me a cigarette." For a moment, all they could do was stare at one another. She never smoked; she'd always abhorred the habit. "For God's sake, give me a bloody cigarette."
Noting Ned's apparent paralysis from shock, Richard reached into his brother's pocket and pulled out the gold-and-silver cigarette case. Fishing out his own lighter, he held the flame to one of the cigarettes and handed it to his mother, who took a long drag, held her breath, and exhaled a long string of smoke.
"Mother..."
"Be quiet, Edward. I need to think. I need to..." She pressed her lips together. "I'll do as he says, but as soon as we've burnt the papers, we're going after them."
"What was it, Mother?" Ned finally asked, when the car had begun to make its way west along the Strand. "What does Father need you to do?"
She turned away from the window, blinking, as if startled by the question. "Papers. Incriminating, one might say. I know where they are. Why your father hasn't told you, I can't possibly imagine."
"He's got enough on his mind, Mother. He doesn't want to worry about you too."
The look she gave Ned could have felled a horse. "Edward York, you are far too old to say such idiotic things."
"Mother!" Ned glanced at Richard, who held up his hands in defeat. "Very well."
Richard found himself gazing from the window as Ned fidgeted in the seat beside him. Then, out of the blue, Ned remarked, "I saw you talking to Bel's sister."
"Bel? So we're on a nickname basis now, are we?" Richard jibed, earning himself a punch in the shoulder. "What? Low-hanging fruit." He shot their mother a glance, but she was preoccupied with staring blankly through the window, pale face framed by a halo of silvery fox fur. "You don't think they'll hurt Edmund, do you?"
"He's just a kid," Ned murmured. "They did it to catch Father's attention. It worked, that's for certain."
"Edward." Both of them turned at the sound of their mother's voice. "Give me a cigarette." For a moment, all they could do was stare at one another. She never smoked; she'd always abhorred the habit. "For God's sake, give me a bloody cigarette."
Noting Ned's apparent paralysis from shock, Richard reached into his brother's pocket and pulled out the gold-and-silver cigarette case. Fishing out his own lighter, he held the flame to one of the cigarettes and handed it to his mother, who took a long drag, held her breath, and exhaled a long string of smoke.
"Mother..."
"Be quiet, Edward. I need to think. I need to..." She pressed her lips together. "I'll do as he says, but as soon as we've burnt the papers, we're going after them."