When it comes to English royal dramas, the Tudors usually steal the spotlight. But what about the family that came before them? The Plantagenets ruled through one of the bloodiest and most unstable periods in English history. Their battles for power ripped the kingdom apart, tore families to pieces, and left scars that would shape the future of the monarchy.
That is the world brought to life in the TV trilogy based on Philippa Gregory’s novels: The White Queen, The White Princess, and The Spanish Princess. These series shine a spotlight on the women often pushed to the sidelines of history books, women who schemed, negotiated, and fought to keep their families on the throne.
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But do these shows really deliver on their promise of drama and authenticity? Or are they guilty of glossing over the grit in favor of glamorous gowns and romantic tension? Let’s dig into what they get right, where they wander off track, and why these stories still hold us captive centuries later.

Philippa Gregory Complete Series – the Cousins War
The Plantagenet to Tudor Saga series, including The White Queen, The White Princess, and The Spanish Princess, was produced by Starz as historical drama adaptations of Philippa Gregory’s novels. They are a fascinating read and well worth adding to your reading list.
The White Queen
The White Queen aired in 2013 as a ten-part series adapted from Philippa Gregory’s novels The White Queen, The Red Queen, and The Kingmaker’s Daughter.

Set during the height of the Wars of the Roses, the story begins in 1464 when a brutal civil war between the houses of York and Lancaster tears apart England. Edward IV, a young Yorkist king, has seized the throne with the help of his powerful cousin Richard Neville, the Earl of Warwick, known as the Kingmaker. Warwick believes he controls the crown, but Edward shatters those plans when he secretly marries Elizabeth Woodville, a commoner and a Lancastrian widow.
That single act sends shockwaves through the kingdom and sets the stage for decades of conflict. Elizabeth becomes queen, but her position is far from secure. She is fiercely protective of her children and family, while Warwick plots to dethrone Edward and replace him with someone he can control. His schemes pull in his daughters Isabel and Anne Neville, forcing them into marriages meant to serve his ambitions. Anne’s fate becomes tied to Richard, Duke of Gloucester, the future Richard III.

The series weaves in the bitter rivalry of Margaret Beaufort, a devout and relentless Lancastrian determined to see her son Henry Tudor crowned king. Meanwhile, Edward’s brothers add to the turmoil. George, Duke of Clarence, is drawn into treasonous plots, a choice that leads to one of history’s most infamous deaths, drowned in a butt of Malmsey wine. Richard, the youngest brother, emerges as a loyal but calculating figure whose future role will reshape the monarchy.
Visuals & Performances
One of the most striking aspects of The White Queen is its visual presentation. The costumes are stunning, with flowing gowns, fur-lined cloaks, and elaborate headpieces that look dramatic on screen but often lean more toward fantasy than historical fact. You definitely notice the modern tailoring and simplified hairstyles, which lack the layered complexity of true 15th-century fashion.
Still, the designs succeed in conveying status and power, especially in the contrast between Elizabeth Woodville’s regal silks and the darker, more austere clothing worn by Margaret Beaufort.

The settings blend real castles and CGI-enhanced landscapes to evoke a kingdom on edge. Most scenes unfold in shadowed halls and candlelit chambers, creating an atmosphere of secrecy and tension.
Outdoor sequences, particularly the mist-covered battlefields, carry a rawness that reflects the brutal reality of civil war. While the production makes concessions for budget and drama, it captures the mood of a country fractured by ambition and fear.
Rebecca Ferguson brings a quiet ferocity to Elizabeth Woodville, making her both sympathetic and calculating. Amanda Hale’s Margaret Beaufort is equally memorable, driven by a relentless sense of divine mission that borders on fanaticism. The interplay between these women provides the emotional backbone of the series, with supporting roles like James Frain as Warwick adding menace and unpredictability.
The White Princess
The White Princess premiered in 2017 as an eight-part continuation of The White Queen and was based on Philippa Gregory’s novel The White Princess, published in 2013.
It begins in the aftermath of one of England’s most decisive battles, Bosworth Field in 1485. Richard III lies dead, and Henry Tudor claims victory, ending the Plantagenet rule that dominated England for more than three centuries.

His claim to the throne, however, is thin. To legitimize his reign and bring an end to the Wars of the Roses, Henry marries Elizabeth of York, the eldest daughter of Edward IV and niece of the defeated king. This marriage was not born of love but of necessity, an attempt to merge two warring factions into one fragile dynasty.
The story unfolds during a period of deep uncertainty. Yorkist supporters refuse to accept Henry as their king, rebellions stir in the north, and rumors spread that Edward IV’s missing sons, the princes in the Tower, may still be alive. We also meet the two pretenders, Lambert Simnel and Perkin Warbeck.

The story is shadowed by the fate of Edward Plantagenet, known as Teddy, and his sister Margaret Plantagenet. Both represent lingering Yorkist claims to the throne, making them dangerous figures in a court obsessed with rooting out rivals. Teddy’s quiet vulnerability and Maggie’s precarious position highlight how even children were caught in the ruthless game of dynastic survival, where a royal name could be both a privilege and a death sentence.
Against this backdrop, Elizabeth of York finds herself trapped between loyalty to her family and duty to her husband. Her mother, Elizabeth Woodville, schemes in the shadows, and her cousin Margaret of Burgundy plots from across the Channel. Every alliance feels temporary, and the stability of a kingdom rests on a marriage built on mistrust.
Visuals & Performances
The White Princess continues the rich aesthetic of its predecessor but shifts to a court that feels more restrained and politically charged. The costumes reflect this change, with Elizabeth of York often dressed in muted tones of gold and cream that underscore her role as a unifying figure. At the same time, Margaret Beaufort appears in somber, almost clerical gowns that emphasize her severity.
Attention to fabric and embroidery gives the costumes a sense of opulence, though accuracy sometimes takes a back seat to drama. Headwear and hair styling are simplified compared to what real Tudor women would have worn, but the look maintains the illusion of period grandeur.

The sets are darker, heavier, and more claustrophobic than those in The White Queen, which suits a story driven by suspicion rather than open warfare. Long corridors, narrow chambers, and looming stone walls create a sense of confinement, mirroring the tense relationship between Henry and Elizabeth. While battles recede from view, the series uses flickering candlelight and richly decorated interiors to highlight the shift from battlefield power to political maneuvering within the royal household.
Performances stand out for their intensity. Jodie Comer brings Elizabeth of York to life with a mix of vulnerability and quiet defiance, while Jacob Collins-Levy portrays Henry VII as brooding, calculating, and deeply insecure about his claim. Michelle Fairley’s Margaret Beaufort dominates every scene she enters, delivering a performance that makes ambition feel chillingly inevitable.
The Spanish Princess
The Spanish Princess aired in two parts between 2019 and 2020, running for a total of sixteen episodes. It draws from two of Philippa Gregory’s novels, The Constant Princess and The King’s Curse, and tells the story of Catherine of Aragon, the Spanish princess who would become Henry VIII’s first wife.
The series begins in 1501 when Catherine arrives in England to marry Arthur, Prince of Wales, the eldest son of Henry VII and Elizabeth of York. This union is meant to secure an alliance between England and Spain, strengthening Tudor rule after decades of civil war.

But Catherine’s story is one of resilience in the face of relentless uncertainty. When Arthur dies just months after their wedding, her future and England’s relationship with Spain hang by a thread. Determined to fulfill her destiny as queen, Catherine fights to remain in England, refusing to return home in disgrace.
Her path collides with the young Henry, Arthur’s brother, whose ambition and charm mask his volatility. Their relationship forms the heart of the series, set against a backdrop of diplomatic tensions, court intrigue, and questions of legitimacy.

The series also introduces perspectives often overlooked in traditional Tudor dramas. Through Catherine’s Spanish ladies-in-waiting, Lina and Rosa, it explores themes of cultural identity and racial difference in Tudor England, drawing attention to the presence of Black and Moorish individuals at court.
Margaret Beaufort still looms as a formidable influence, clinging to her authority even as age and illness close in. Meanwhile, Catherine navigates not only political danger but personal loss, making her story both intensely human and unrelentingly political.
Visuals & Performances
The Spanish Princess raises the production value compared to its predecessors, with costumes and sets that feel more elaborate and deliberate. Catherine of Aragon’s wardrobe is the highlight of the series. Her gowns incorporate Spanish influences, such as square necklines, heavy embroidery, and Moorish-inspired details, signaling her identity as a foreign princess in an English court.
Her wedding attire, layered with gold and intricate patterns, stands out as one of the most memorable costume moments in the entire trilogy. While the show takes liberties, the clothing reflects Catherine’s transition from hopeful bride to determined queen, contrasting with the plainer, somber styles worn by Margaret Beaufort in her final years.

The settings reflect the ambition of the story. Vast palace interiors, sprawling gardens, and cathedral-like chapels create a sense of grandeur absent in the earlier series. The lighting shifts from warm Spanish tones in Catherine’s early life to the cooler, more austere look of Tudor England, reinforcing her sense of isolation. Scenes in battle tents and windswept coastal landscapes add texture, though the focus remains on court life rather than war.
Performances are compelling. Charlotte Hope portrays Catherine as fiercely resilient, balancing vulnerability with determination. Angus Imrie brings a softer, almost tragic quality to Prince Arthur, while Ruairi O’Connor’s Henry evolves from a charming, impulsive youth to a figure whose charm begins to mask ambition. Laura Carmichael delivers a sharp, steely interpretation of Margaret Pole, hinting at the dangers of royal blood in a suspicious court.
The Verdict: Is This Trilogy Worth Your Time?
I love all three series and have watched them all twice now. However, you have to remember they are produced for theatrical effect and often take liberties with the truth.
It keeps us gripped with a feast of political intrigue, personal rivalries, and the relentless fight for survival in a world where a crown was never secure.
I love that it gives center stage to women often sidelined in history, showing how their choices shaped dynasties. But viewers should know these series are historical dramas, not documentaries.
Timelines are compressed, characters are simplified, and some details are altered for the sake of storytelling. The costumes lean more toward modern appeal than strict authenticity, and dialogue often feels contemporary.
Still, if you’re drawn to stories of ambition, betrayal, and the human cost of power, The White Queen, The White Princess, and The Spanish Princess deliver gripping television that captures the spirit, if not always the letter, of the past.







