I AM THE DAUGHTER OF YORK, I BOW TO NO ONE.
Isabella of York is formidable in her own right. She is no piece on a board. Do not let her play you like a fool, as she has done to so many others.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
The King thought he ran her, but it she who ran him.
-WESTMINISTER PALACE-
-SPRING OF 1462-
The King of England and Lady Tabolt. King Edward and Lady Eleanor. The King and his favorite.
Or as the two called each other, Edward and Eleanor.
Duchess Cecily of York looked on the two dancing in the middle of the court, Edward spinning Eleanor around, her black hair flanking around her like black velvet.
"I brought up my niece's marriage prospects." Warwicks continues, "Of course at my niece's instances, she tells me Edward will not entertain her ideas and she asked me to talk to him on her behalf.
"I take it, my son did not entertain such notions?" Duchess Cecily laughs at her nephew, the formidable Earl of Warwick, Richard Neville sits beside her.
"He looked at me as if he could have gutted me like a fish." Her nephew groans.
"You would feel Edward's wrath if you parted the two." Her voice comes out as a whisper as she watches the two of them, Edward and Eleanor. The two play off each other on their looks, in a brilliant way really. Edward is golden and bright, the sun. Eleanor is dark and striking, the moon. Yet, she cannot dismiss this feeling of dread pooling at the bottom of her stomach. If she had only known the beautiful dance she was watching could only end withtragedy.
"I tell him that when he takes a wife and a Queen, she will not stand for another Queen to be here already." Her nephew rakes a hand through his dark brown curls, his brown eyes strained as he watches the King and his favorite.
The Duchess giggles, like a school age child, "Eleanor is all but Queen in the name. And no anointed Queen of England would remedy that."
"Do not tell me, aunt, you would have Edward marry her instead of Princess Bonny of France?" Warwick's voice comes out in a sigh, and his tight brown eyes fall on her light blue ones.
But he knows, she is just as arduous as he. "Aye, nephew I would rather the Lady Eleanor be his wife." She eyes him, her steely blue gaze never lifting, "You want peace with the great powers of Europe, but the Lady Eleanor would ensure peace in England, which should be the King's first priority."
Warwick looks to her with a gleam in his eye, an idea he had not thought of. "The Lady Eleanor's cousin is the Duke of Somerset."
"A fellow Lancasterian, one could argue the greatest supporter." Duchess Cecily counters with a wicked grin.
"Edward and Eleanor's union would be looked upon as joining of the two great houses."
Duchess Cecily gives a grin as she looks to the pair in question, both oblivious to the future planned for them. "Yes, and their heir would be a true Prince of England, the fruit of the red and white roses."
