The Forgotten Rose {COMPLETED}

Part I: Chapter Twenty - God's Gift

"A boy." The words rung in Isabelle's mind. She had a son.

Maggie, the midwife, held the child up before her. The boy was not all that different to her daughter. He was the brightest of pink and wailed like some kind of small animal. Isabelle had a son. She was overjoyed but she still could not stop her tears from flowing. They must have been tears of joy. They must have been.

"My son." George called from the doorway to her chamber, he rushed and took the boy in his arms. "My son." His voice was almost broken with his joy. "We have a boy." He said to Isabelle as she lay upon the bed of tangled sheets. "He shall be the best boy."

The newborn looked up at his father with his bright eyes wide and blinking. A sweet smile was upon his small face as George handed him back to Maggie for him to be wrapped in bands. He was their little prince. The hair on the boy's head was golden, it was fine and only as the light of the candle caught it could its true colour be shown. But was golden, the hair of kings.

"His name?" Isabelle questioned as she peered around the women who cared for her son. "What is he to be named?"

"I should show my brother some love, shouldn't I?" George sighed. "Edward, that seems to be the only name for boys of York. That or Richard, and my little brother is far more of a nuisance than Edward."

"We are to name him for the King you are to depose?" Isabelle raised her eyebrow as her husband came and sat at her side. "You should name our boy Edward?"

"You chose our daughters name, I shall name my sons. It is only fair. And we should not call him Edward, you may have your pet name for him if you wish." George chuckled. "Our next boy, you shall chose his name. He can be your George."

"Who says I should name him that?" Isabelle asked. "I may wish to name him Louis for his kindness in France when we were in exile, or maybe Richard, for my father."

"It is tradition to name a son for your husband." George pointed out. He would have his George, his named would be remembered.

"My sister did not. She named her boy for the King, like the fool she is." Isabelle told her husband..

Her son was carried to his wet-nurse and had his first feed. He took straight to it and was suckling away in an instant. It was too perfect. He was too perfect and the labour too simple. Something was stirring. Isabelle could fool herself, say it was her reward for the loss of her little Anne, but she knew it wasn't. She wasn't so much of a fool to think that all would stay well. But that felt like forever ago. She was still very a child when that little girl was lost to the sea. Her reward was her return to favour and her beautiful daughter Margaret.

"Your sister is a foolish woman, imagine if York had lost. Mad Henry would have died and she would have been Queen. How tragic a Queen your sister would be. A sickly heir and a folly she called love for her King. Her son was probably named for him, her Lancastrian Prince Edward. Her dearly beloved whom she so tragically lost." George teased holding his hand to his heart and pulling a dreamy face. He would enjoy humiliating Anne Neville before his court when he was King. Her and his brother, Richard. If they were not beheaded for treason first.

"If only my Edward were here." He mimicked Anne with a high pitched voice. "Oh darling Richard, you saved me." He continued pretending to feel faint. "How tragic my life has been." He flung his head back and pretended to mop tears from his face.

Isabelle sat beside him in a fit of laughter. Anne did call her life a tragedy, she forgot that every other woman in England had their hand forced into marriage. That many lost fathers like Anne. She was lost in her own little world.

"If she saw you." Isabelle laughed. "She would kill you."

"I'd like to see her try." George sneered.