The Yorkist Rose
Vengence
He had left the child with Warwick and ventured into York itself, Edward stood by the walls staring blankly at the heads, thankful only that his brothers had been spared such a fate, or even the fate of such a sight. It was worse than he had seen from the castle, the crown was mockery and a sign hung 'Let York look over York.”
He felt the fresh flood of anger, of sadness of guilt. He had deserted them, he had been the reason for their death, oh how he could not help but to think that. His actions could have prevented it, could have seen his head atop a spike and mockery be made of him, mockery that could have spared him his current misery. “Father, forgive me, brother, I beg thee, know it was not I who deserted thou but thy's order which made me leave. Know I shall not sit idle.” His words were cut off as the egg narrowly missed him before cracking on his fathers head. Several more followed, the insult was bad, the incessant chants of insults were worse.
Edward, Duke of York stepped down from the walls, silently approaching the man from behind as in his drunken state the peasant threw yet more remaining food he could have better eaten. Edward's steps were silent, the man's calls silent still as the Duke dragged the peasant away toward the castle, much to the objections of the peasant, claiming his mothers words that Edward was a bastard, a lie he had little patience for. “Silence your tongue you Lancastrian beast for I have no patience for your words of poison.” The man failed to take the warning even as he hit the floor, he started with a laugh, mocking. Edward drew the dagger from his belt kneeling beside the peasant. “A message for the Queen, a message for a whore. The death of my father, Richard Plantagenet, Duke of York shall not be laid to rest, his work shall be done and I shall not rest until she is off the throne of England.” With that, he brought the dagger into the man's chest before returning it to its sheaf and leaving the peasant alone. It wasn't long before, accompanied with a dozen red roses, the Lancastrian head was displayed on a spike, a sign of retort claiming the fall of the Lancastrians all a gift from Warwick.
On his return to the castle Edward's mind was made, he would be King.
He felt the fresh flood of anger, of sadness of guilt. He had deserted them, he had been the reason for their death, oh how he could not help but to think that. His actions could have prevented it, could have seen his head atop a spike and mockery be made of him, mockery that could have spared him his current misery. “Father, forgive me, brother, I beg thee, know it was not I who deserted thou but thy's order which made me leave. Know I shall not sit idle.” His words were cut off as the egg narrowly missed him before cracking on his fathers head. Several more followed, the insult was bad, the incessant chants of insults were worse.
Edward, Duke of York stepped down from the walls, silently approaching the man from behind as in his drunken state the peasant threw yet more remaining food he could have better eaten. Edward's steps were silent, the man's calls silent still as the Duke dragged the peasant away toward the castle, much to the objections of the peasant, claiming his mothers words that Edward was a bastard, a lie he had little patience for. “Silence your tongue you Lancastrian beast for I have no patience for your words of poison.” The man failed to take the warning even as he hit the floor, he started with a laugh, mocking. Edward drew the dagger from his belt kneeling beside the peasant. “A message for the Queen, a message for a whore. The death of my father, Richard Plantagenet, Duke of York shall not be laid to rest, his work shall be done and I shall not rest until she is off the throne of England.” With that, he brought the dagger into the man's chest before returning it to its sheaf and leaving the peasant alone. It wasn't long before, accompanied with a dozen red roses, the Lancastrian head was displayed on a spike, a sign of retort claiming the fall of the Lancastrians all a gift from Warwick.
On his return to the castle Edward's mind was made, he would be King.