Familial Etiquette
Title: Familial Etiquette
Rating: G
Fandom: Historical Fiction [Wars of the Roses]
Pairing(s): None
Summary: Edward and Edmund meet their younger siblings for the first time.
Genre: Fluff?
Warnings: Nada (!!)
Notes: [638 words]
They had been riding all day, Edward knew this. It was nearly night when the rest of his family came thundering through the gates on their horses, and he and Edmund fought to be their first to greet them, to meet them off their horses.
Of course, all their ideas and thoughts about greeting them graciously, as two adults would to their younger siblings, were dismissed when a tiny figure keeled off his horse.
“Dickon’s fallen.” The slightly bigger boy, blonde, must be George, remarked in what sounded like boredom, swinging off his own horse and staggering on his feet. Edward stepped forward hurriedly to offer aid to his father in carrying the smallest Plantagenet in, but Richard dismissed him, not needing it. He walked past briskly, the boy still in a swoon.
“Hello.” Edmund knelt down to look George in the face. “I’m Edmund, you must be George.”
“Yes, I am.” The smaller boy nodded with an almost regal air. “And this is Margaret, and Dickon fainted.”
“Come inside, you must be exhausted.” Edward ushered them inside, still curious to know more about the younger siblings he had never met.
Sitting in a chair by the fire was their father, the tiny figure Edward now recognised as his youngest brother - also called Richard, but whom George had referred to as “Dickon” - curled up on the floor, under their father’s fur lined winter cloak. “Father?” The eldest Plantagenet boy took a hesitant step forward. “We can - the servants, he-”
“If Dickon wakes up and realises he’s been put to bed,” Richard’s eyes gleamed with wit as he took a sip of his mead. “Then hell will break out.”
“Does... Dickon have our temper then?” Edward asked uncertainly, the name unfamiliar on his tongue.
“Like a shrieking fury.” He looked like he was going to say more, but the figure curled at his feet stirred and distracted them both. The boy unfurled himself slowly, his thin arms reaching out at odd angles and a yawn stretching his sallow face grotesquely.
“Hello.” Edward squatted down beside the small boy, looking at him curiously.
“Who are you?” The dark haired little boy demanded. He looked around frantically, his actions panic tinged. He stopped abruptly when he saw George and Margaret, relaxing slightly against the furs.
“My name’s Edward; I’m your brother.” He reached out a hand to touch his littlest brother’s cheek. It was flushed against his cool hand, but the boy shied away.
“I’m Dickon.” Despite the warmth of the night, he shivered slightly and tugged the furs close to his scrawny body.
“How old are you, Dickon?”
“Seven.” The boy spat the words out. “But I’m small for my age.” He closed his mouth with a snap as his older brother and sister came to sit by the fire, talking nineteen to the dozen about their journey. Margaret, who Edward had already sussed out as strong willed and certain, swore she’d seen a unicorn, and wanted to find a virgin to tame it. This had then been followed up by her asking clarification for what exactly a virgin was, and Edward and Edmund had had to look away, for fear of laughing. George was full of boasts about how fast he’d gone, and how he’d so beaten Dickon there.
“Don’t boast, George.” Cecily chastised him calmly - her behaviour suggested this was a regular occurrence. Edward had to admit, George seemed the type.
“I still got here first.” The seven year old corrected. Edward wasn’t prepared for his littlest brother to smack his hands gently and climb up into his lap, still draped in their father’s winter cloak. “Hold still!” Dickon commanded him, wriggling on his lap to get comfy. The older boy winced - Dickon was bony. “I got here first, I touched the ground first, I fell on it!”