The Forgotten Rose {COMPLETED}

Part I: Chapter Thirteen - Night Terror

As darkness fell so did the axe. Ruby red blood splattered across the floor followed by George's head, tumbling down the steps. Only to be stopped by his brother, Edward, who stood laughing at his brothers corpse with his wife and daughters. Edward was surrounded by witches, enthralled by their wicked spell.

Blood ran from the mouths of the queen and her daughters. It trickled over their pale chins and onto their ice white dresses. Leaving a deep red trail, like that of a river. Their eyes were as black as the night, no light remained only darkness. Each had talons on their fingers. The eldest reached forward and took a woman, Isabelle. She left the ground behind her, growing as tall as Isabel, and dug her razor like talons into Isabelle's chest before she pulled out her still beating heart. Then the daughter, Elizabeth, took the heart and took a sinister bite with her sharp fangs.

The Queen lifted George's head in her hand and laughed allowed. She lit a torch and threw George's head to the floor. She whispered words of witchcraft as she poured boiling oil over George's cold face. Then with the torch she set light to both his limp body and his head, cackling. All of them cackled as they watched him burn and as they tore his wife apart; taking George's son from within her and casting the baby into the fires with his father.

A violent wail escaped George's lungs as he bolted forward and sat upright in his bed. His face was shining from the coat of sweat which trickled off of his brow. He panted as he scanned the room. To his side Isabel lay, sleeping silently. The room was still, no horror stirred in the depths it was as calm as it had been when he had fallen to his sleep. Still he wept, tears rolled down his face and splashed onto the bed sheets.

He pulled up the covers, she was not torn. Her bare chest was as perfect as ever, her stomach was still flat and smooth. No child grew within Isabelle but she was safe. Gently she breathed, in and out, and it became George's joy to watch as her chest rose and fell. Suddenly she became aware of the cold and she too woke.

"George?" Isabelle asked rubbing the sleep from her eyes. "What is wrong?" She said as she saw the tears which stained her husbands face. "I am here." She whispered as she took him and held her close to her. Her fingers ran through his hair as he took back the tears.

"It's that witch." George whimpered. "She tore you apart and our son from within you. Then she burnt him. Our boy. And laughed as he died." He told Isabel sorrowfully. "She killed our son, she cast that storm that killed our first born and she will ignite the fire that will kill our next."

"George it was just a dream." Isabelle soothed him. "It was just a dream." She wished she could tell him how all would be fine, and that she believed in the Queen's innocence. If Jaquetta Woodville was a witch then surely so was her eldest daughter, Elizabeth Woodville, the woman they now called Queen.

"She shall end my line, I know it. She and her own shall kill all of my sons, smother them, tare them from the womb, burn them or slit their throats. She shall kill all of my sons and when she is done with them she shall have my head and burn me." George wailed as he raised his head from Isabelle's chest. "I am sorry my love, I have cursed us all."

"No you have not." Isabelle told him. "When our next baby is born we shall not let her touch him." She said holding her stomach.

"We shall have our boy or our girl and she shall not touch our babe." George told her, Isabelle looked at him in confusion. Her whole life she had been told of how boys were the only babies any man wanted, yet her husband was professing otherwise. "Any child can be an heir and bring us profit, my love. A girl in marriage and a boy for our true heir. It shall not be our last child, we shall have many babies like the witch queen and my brother. Each shall be loved."

"Yes, but we want a boy. A girl is no use, girls are useless and stupid." Isabelle pulled the bed sheets back around herself to keep warm before reaching over to kiss George. "We will have a son. We shall have the best son England has ever seen. We will have ten sons and not one daughter, daughters only shame you. Sons bring you pride. You have seen the shame my sister brought upon my name, I will not have a girl to do the same to yours."

"No, no will we have a perfect little girl for you to adore and sons for me to raise into men. A girl would bring you joy."

"A girl would bring me only shame, I cannot have a girl. I refuse to have a girl." Isabelle protested. "Now, let us sleep." She commanded laying herself back down. George did the same and placed his arm around Isabelle. He thought of the child that would soon be inside her, perhaps she was already with child, only time would tell.

It was true, he wanted an heir, more than anything. In fact he needed one. His wife would give him one, of that he was sure. She was faithful and she would be a great mother to any son. But to have another daughter first, that was okay. She would remind him of her. To see another smaller Isabelle and to have a girl who he would not loose to war. A son would fight in battle and most likely die, not a girl. She would live longer than any son. She would be a wife and a mother; she would be just like Isabelle. She would be beautiful.

"I promise you as many children as I can give." Isabelle told her husband as they lay. "I shall give you a son and heir, I promise."

"Isabelle, I do not care. I only want you." George smiled as he kissed her lips one final time. "An heir, I would love, but without you by my side I do believe I would go mad." He chuckled a little as he fell back into his sleep along with Isabelle.