The Forgotten Rose {COMPLETED}

Part I: Chapter Three - The Return of the King

"Oh Isabelle." Anne whimpered as she flung her arms around her sisters neck. "I don't want you to go." She sobbed into her sister's shoulder.

"And I do not wish to leave, but I must. My husband leaves so I go with him. He needs me, Anne." Isabel took pushed Anne off of her. She reach out and wiped her sisters dampened eyes with her handler and managed a smile. Then she took hold of her sister's hands and said, "when you see me next just think, you will be princess of Wales. You'll be queen like I should have been. At least you are a Neville queen." She sighed, her father was making her queen of England but, of course, because of the witch, Isabel was cast aside for a younger, prettier Neville girl to steal the crown when it had been so close to her head.

They always turned to Anne, they never gave Isabelle any thing, but Anne got everything. They even asked the king for Richards hand for her, not caring that it almost ruined Isabelle's match with George. It was a relief that George had to good sense to know a good marriage else Isabel would have been still a maid. There again she wouldn't have lost a baby, but she would have been marrying Edward of Westminster and that was a thought she couldn't stand. He was a monster.

"Yes." Anne looked down to the floor, but Isabel's hand drew her chin back up. Isabelle kissed Anne's forehead and smiled again. "Goodbye sister."

"Goodbye, Anne." Isabelle said simply as she stepped into the litter that would carry her to the ship. She waved back at her sister for a little while until it began to bore her, and she could barely make out Anne anyway.

Anne walked back inside her attendant rubbing her back and telling her all would be well. All would be well in time. Her father would win the war and Anne marry Edward to become second only the queen, and then when King Henry second to nobody. Second all her life to Isabel, the eldest who had everything first and now she would be queen. She should like that. Maybe she would not be so beautiful as Elizabeth Woodville but she would be a good queen. She would give her king lots of sons. Isabelle wouldn't be able to make any of her remarks not ever.

You can't talk to a queen like you do a litle sister, Anne thought, Margaret of Anjou would have her head if she heard some of the things she said to me when we were younger.

"You are sorry to see her go?" Margaret asked as Anne sat beside her. She beckoned for more wine from the maid who stood to the side. The maid quickly brought it to her without a word, and even with her hand clearly shaking she did not spill a drop as she filled the glass up to the brim. "Princess Anne?"

"Yes, your grace." Anne said as she awoke from her thoughts and noticed she was in the presence of the queen, sitting up straighter and removing the creases from her skirt. "What was it you said, your grace?"

"You are sorry to see her go?" Margaret asked again with an impatient sigh.

"She was my sister, of course I was."

"I was sad to see my sister go also, Yolande. I left her with my mother and father when I married Henry." Margaret's turned to look straight at Anne. "You are scared, no?" She said in French and Anne looked startled at her. Forgetting every lesson she had, every moment she had spent practicing with Isabelle. "About the marriage to my son?"

Anne ran through her brain. "A little, I mean no, well yes."

"You stutter, you are nervous." Margaret told Anne. She took hold of Anne's hand and squeezed it gently. She had been harsh enough, she knew the terrified look Anne had given her when they first met. Anne was not wrong to fear her, but that could become hatred and hatred became treason.

Anne's father had shown his skill with treason, what if Anne inherited that trait. She wouldn't have, she was too kind and gentle, but Margaret had to be certain. So long as she was kind, Anne would feel safe and be a good wife. That was always safer. The dislike between Elizabeth Woodville and King Edward mother had stirred the makings of war. Margaret didn't want any dislike Anne had for her to do that same. Her eyes met with Anne's, they softer than Anne first thought most certainly a mothers. "I was nervous. So nervous I made myself sick. I stepped off the boat, my dress torn from the sea and my stressing and I fainted. Like that." She snapped her fingers. "There is nothing wrong with a little fear, Princess, nothing at all. And it will go. When you and Edward get to know each other it will get easier I promise you."