The Yorkist Rose

“I think it best she lives with Izzy George.” Edward sat perfectly still, his eyes fixed on his brother, the man who nodded, a smile on his face as Anne Neville stood between the Duke of Clarence and the Duke of Gloucester. Her eyes looked between the three brothers, Richard was clearly uncomfortable with the suggestion the king had put forward but he said nothing to it, only tensed briefly and exhaled as though letting it all go. The cause would have been lost, as Clarence looked at her with a curious look in his eyes, almost cruel she looked at Queen Elizabeth who looked away, her hand holding her husbands and her eyes gazing out of the windows. Nobody was going to object, only she could.
“I will not-” Edward's eyes darted toward her, ice cold and forced her words to stop. George and Richard both looked at her in surprise, even Elizabeth’s attention was taken from the window, the children appeared to have stopped their playing and Anne Neville felt that global wars had stopped and shivers had been sent down the spines of all men and women. She had done the unthinkable, she was the daughter of a traitor speaking openly to a king without permission. She had done wrong, but most of all, she was a girl. She could see the anger in Edward's eyes, he looked toward Elizabeth who whispered to her husband, stroking his bicep lightly, encouraging reason she hoped. She jumped almost three feet in the air when the Duke of Clarence spoke again.
“Anne, his grace did not ask you to speak, be silent.”
“No, George, brother, it is okay. Anne, you wanted to express an opinion?” His tone was relaxed, open to suggestion, he smiled as comforting as her father would have, as comforting as a father should have.
“I do not wish to stay with Izzy.”
“She is your sister, why ever not?”
Anne looked around, awkwardly, scared and coughed, Edward simply nodded and dismissed his brothers who bowed deep and with irritation left. “You can speak freely.” It was Elizabeth who said the words, she seemed more than aware as to why the girl did not wish to stay with Isabelle Neville, and it was nothing to do with her sister at all.
“I fear George will not treat me right, nor you your grace, that he wants me only for my mothers fortune, that I shall die and he shall be richer than you both.”
“Non-”
“Edward, please.” Elizabeth cut off her husbands objection and looked at the girl before her erging her to continue, despite her husbands slight move away from her and his icy gaze half on her. Elizabeth seemed able to ignore him. “Anne, has he mistreated you or your sister?”
“No your grace, but please I beg you not to send me to him.”
“To him or the Tower, the choice is yours.”
“Edward, be reasonable, the girl has been through enough.”
“She married my enemy.”
“By force not choice, is that not right Anne?”
“That is right your grace.”
Anne tried not to smile at the look of curiosity on the king's face as he looked between the two women in front of him. “Then wife, what do you suggest?”
“She could be a lady of mine, or just a guest at court.”
“She would be monitored.”
“Anything your grace.” Anne Neville pleaded, her eyes fixed on the king. She smiled as he did, she tried to ignore as his eyes looked over her.
“Let it be, she shall be your lady, but she shall sleep in private chambers.”
“Your grace, I thank you.” Anne curtsied low and the king offered a small head nod. As the girl left their sight Edward looked to Elizabeth.
“She will need new clothes. I shall need to summon a tailor.”
“Not before you tell me husband, what is on your mind?”
“You are not with child, this plagues me.” His smile said it all.

A month ago the Queen had announced her pregnancy, two months before she had told her mother, Edward of course had known just days after the conception when his wife had refused to lay with him and had indeed left his bed cold. As it still was. Anne Neville had been at court, the pretty little thing she was, freshly turned fifteen and over the death of her Lancastrian husband she had spent much time flirting with Richard, Duke of Gloucester. Edward watched as the pair, fifteen and nineteen chased each other into a happy frenzy. “Richard.” The young man stopped and bowed to his brother. “I wish to speak with Anne, alone.”
“Your grace?” Anne offered a curious smile, Richard, always the faithful brother simply bowed again, kissed the ladies hand and left. Before any further words were exchanged, Edward offered Anne his arm, she looped her hand over and they walked at a slow pace through the palace. “Your Grace, what is this about?”
“I wished only to find if you were enjoying court life?”
“Indeed.” She did not wish to say she was not, though Edward's gaze told her that he knew well that she was lying. The memories of her father were plaguing her, how he had been so powerful in the court and now his body lay resting due to Edward's orders, she couldn't help fear the same fate. King's and conquerors did not always pity women. Edward she knew would likely understand the fear, she remembered her father's story of the great Duke, the Duke of York – Edward's father and when he had been murdered. She remembered little more than the sad time in her childhood, when all had seemed grey. That was long ago, beyond her memory. The king, almost thirty but still a young man gazed off, his eyes empty for a moment before he plastered the smile back on his face and turned back to her offering a nod.
“I am glad to hear, my wife she is treating you well?”
“As any other.” Again, the lying. She had indeed overheard when the king and queen had last talked that morning. Elizabeth had mentioned to her husband that she felt that Anne was too much, that she offered competition, as though she were the most beautiful woman at court, worse more eligible for marriage and an easy card to play. She had hinted to Edward that she should be sent to stay with his brother the Duke of Clarence and no more should be said. Edward had tried to reason with her, but she did not know the outcome. For months the queen had made it hard for her, and she had thought the woman had asked her to be at court for her benefit, for mercy, it seemed the York couple had more to their plan for her. Anne, reaching adulthood, widowed and scared hadn't realised as she clung to the king's arm, her grip firm. For a few moments he did not complain, until her fingers gripped his sleeve too tight, he stepped away, smiled and stepped back in, she smelled his skin, clean, freshly cleaned.
He walked with her further, she suspected nothing, they spoke in pleasant conversation, small talk about horses, about gardens, she credited the king on his well kept courtyard, he thanked her ensuring to thank the man in charge of the grounds. They spoke of food, of wine and of the royal children, the king spoke of his son and how the boy was growing, how soon he would be able to move away from the court and start his own. The man had said this with an ounce of loss and an ounce of utter delight. Anne had always been surprised on the kings insistence to see his children, her father had been a distant parent, her mother much the same but the king and queen, they saw their children daily, they bought gifts and showered their children in happiness. Anne slowed her step quickly as she recognised this part of the palace, a distant memory, she had been here only once when the king and queen had, with her help, stripped and bedded before her. This was the kings quarters, he led her with confidence, opening several doors for her.
Eventually, a large chamber with a burning fire and lush furniture stood before her, the king sat before the fire telling her to sit, he sat on the floor close to the flames, his skin warming, glowing by the flames, his hazel eyes fixed upon them. When, after several minutes, he spoke his voice was quiet, hushed. “You are aware the queen is with child again?”
“I have been told, it is much delightful news your grace.”
“Of course, I hope for a second son.”
“I hope for it too.”
“I am glad to hear.” His eyes moved from the fire, she saw his gaze on her gown, his hand gently touched the soft silk. He sighed, a painful sigh she could tell, his eyes closed briefly before he looked up at her, she felt a chill and masked a shudder. “I am so lonely, my queen has little time for me, she spends her time around women.”
“As she should.”
“It is the custom yes.” He sighed again, this time offering a mournful look. “My mother, when your age, was apparently quite the jewel, a beautiful woman embarking on her marriage, I am ashamed I allowed your first marriage to be so” he searched for a word “poor.”
“The fault is not yours your grace.”
“You are a beautiful woman.”
“It is in the Neville blood your grace.”
“Edward, please.”
“My Lord I cannot-”
“I insist-”
“Only your wife and mother call you Edward.”
“Several others too.” He shrugged, as if to say she should do as suited her, his hand slipped around her ankle, skin on skin as he moved her hand slowly to her calf. “You have never known love, this causes me such pain.”
She closed her eyes, feeling as his hand moved slowly, her gown rising. She thought of the queen,
of how she must be alone, of Izzy and George, of how their marriage allowed such behaviour, of how happy she must be. Anne smiled as his fingers scraped her thigh, she heard him shift to a kneel as his hand travelled north he rose slightly pulling her close his breath soft against the naked skin at the top of her breast. She almost lost herself their, almost accepted. No one should have known and the pleasure was one they would both enjoy, she shifted back pushing the king away. “No your grace. No.” It was now she realised with shock that her father had been right, this was a man who would take any woman, he would have her by charm and she would not know. She had barely known.
“Anne-”
“No your grace.”
“Ed-”
“I shall not call you Edward, it will only encourage your dreams.”
“My dreams?” He looked stunned, before a smile broke into a laugh. “You think I dream of you?” he stood and stepped back looking at her, his eyes mocking.
“You do not?” She sounded almost heart broken.
“No, heaven's no.” He paced slowly, his hand resting on the waist of his dublet. “my wife is both mature and fertile, why would I dream of the daughter of a traitor?”
“My father put you on the throne.”
“My birth right put me on the throne, my father. Your father did little.”
“He saved your head.”
“And almost took it. Almost.” he emphasised the last word as though it were an insult to her, not her father. She stood at his command, a small hand swish, she stepped away from the fire, taking that he looked away as a command she should leave she headed toward the doors stopping as he coughed and gripped her arm, pulling her close, his arm on her waist, her breast pressed against him. “Why will you not? My bed is so cold, I do not ask for you to be my mistress, I ask you to lay with me, once.”
“No your grace, now let me go.”
“If you leave me here alone you leave the court. If you will not lay with me, fine, do not leave me alone, sit.” He looked toward his bed, she sighed and sat on the velvet sheets her hand stroking the soft material, she found herself close as the king sat beside her. They said nothing for moments, did not move for minutes until has hand reached her shoulders and pushed her back, it was seconds before was on top of her. Several muffled calls and two kick's later he was away from her, his hand resting on his stomach, panting for breath. She stood and moved away quickly, her eyes fixed dangerously on him, she awaited his reaction. Moments later he coughed and spluttered trying to stand straight. “Tomorrow I shall have you escorted to Middleham, you shall stay with your sister and George. I wish not to see you again.” With that he called his groom who dismissed her with ease, only after the king had been changed and laid in bed. Tears streamed down her eyes, the humiliation had been hard, his intentions were simple. Richard had been too close she knew, he'd wished to stop their flirting in dishonouring her, after all what nobleman would want the king's throw away? He had wanted rid of her, the best way was to harm himself as she knew he had he could have over powered her she knew, he had simply been digging for an excuse.