𝙪𝙣𝙗𝙤𝙬𝙚𝙙
thirty-three. — christmas at court!
DECEMBER 24TH, 1469 — the Palace of Westminster:
There were many things Melissa Woodville was sure of in life. Her goals, her achievements, and her love for her husband and her children were only a few of them. However, there were also many things she was unsure of.
'Twas a difficult thing, having the gift of premonition. She could almost look into the future, discern what might be happening in this moment or that, except that her ability was — at best — uncertain. It hit her at unexpected times, and — as John's death had proved — only showed a fraction of what could actually happen in the moments, minutes, days to follow. As a result, Melissa was no longer as confident in her seeings as she had once been.
Certain things she saw and felt were now terribly faux; she did not know how much she could trust them. Gut instinct told her not to discard them out of hand, so she carefully considered every little flash and debated whether to put any stock in it or not.
The real ones, the genuine ones felt different. When Melissa was caught in those, she felt as though she were living in the moment, as though the event was actually happening to her right then and there. The faker ones — the ones that had a lesser certainty of occurring — turned her into a bystander; she was not an active part of the vision, simply one who was witnessing it happen. This distinction, therefore, aided greatly in telling her what to be careful of and what not to.
So, as the uneasy feeling of many seeings foretold pervaded her, from her perch inside one of the many warmed halls of Westminster, and standing behind a great window of stained glass, Melissa watched the Countess of Warwick and her daughters descend from their carriage, observing the palace courtyard carefully. Isabel, in particular, looked restless, shuffling to and fro as her husband joined her side.
"Duchess Isabel looks worried," Catherine, Melissa's soon-to-be twelve year old sister noted.
"She fears of Elizabeth's retribution," the red-head replied. "Because of her father's execution of John."
"John attacked her, did he not?" The youngest Woodville was puzzled. "Is beheading not the punishment for that?"
"Oh, it is," the duchess nodded. "But our sister will not see sense, and her previous dislike of Warwick and George has only served to exacerbate the situation."
"Does that have anything to do with their curse?"
The question was innocent, but it had Melissa whipping around.
"What?"
Cate bit her lip, "'Twas an accident. I do not think that they meant for me to know."
"There is a curse?" The red-head's eyebrows rose impossibly high. "What curse?"
"The one in her locket."
Realization dawned on the duchess like an immediate strike of lightning.
"The one Elizabeth has taken to wearing nowadays?"
At Cate's nod, Melissa stifled the urge to swear. She should have known. Elizabeth's taste in jewelry was usually more prolific than the odd little locket. It was a simple piece of metal that swung open, held around her neck by a leather string. What strangeness!
"How did you find out?" She continued to question her youngest sister. "What else do you know?"
"Papa asked me to go find mother. I went to Elizabeth's chambers, because that's where she usually is, when I overheard her talking. I could not help but listen." Catherine admitted.
"What did she say?"
"That it was done. That she had written their names down in..." she lowered her voice, looking around cautiously. "In blood."
"Damn it, Elizabeth!" This time, Melissa did not stifle her anger.
The magic Melusina had gifted them — the seeings and the gifts of destiny (like Melissa's key and Elizabeth's crown ring) — was uncertain. Every single branch of it depended on almost a thousand variables. Such was its nature, those relatively harmless parts of magic ... but a curse? Dear Lord, what was her sister thinking? The chances that this would backfire and hurt an innocent was too great, even if the intended recipients were Warwick and George.
"Is it really bad?" Cate whispered.
Melissa sighed and looked back out the window. Her eyebrows rose when she saw Edward embracing his brother, whom he had done naught but insult for the past few months.
"It has the potentiality of being fatal," the duchess admitted. Seeing the fear in her sister's eyes, she pulled the girl into a half-hug. "Do not worry your pretty little head about it. I will find a way to remit the consequences."
Cate nodded in acceptance, and the two moved from their position by the window. As Melissa led her sister to her upcoming harp lesson, her mind could not help but wander.
"Why would mother do this? She knows the dangers of cursing; she told me about them herself. No matter how much she adores Elizabeth, surely she would warn her of the drawbacks?"
Yet, despite that thought, a strange feeling inside her said that this curse had been made while mother was in the throes of her grief — for both father and John. Back then, she likely hadn't known that father was still alive. As such, she had not thought of what could happen in the aftermath.
"Grief does strange things to people," she mused, thinking of how her gentle, kind father had been driven to drinking and violence when his brother had died; when Melissa was only seven.
"Lissa?" Cate's soft voice interrupted her thoughts.
"Hmm?" She looked down at the little blonde.
"Do you think the Duke of Buckingham still hates me?"
Melissa pondered upon that question; over whether Harry Stafford's opinion on his unwanted betrothal had altered.
"I suppose we will have to watch him interact with you. I cannot know the minds of people, Cate; but I do know that once he sees you, he will be struck by your beauty and intellect. You are no longer that scrappy little girl who came into court, riding on the queen's train."
"Do you really think so?" Catherine beamed.
"Of course," the duchess smiled affectionately. She ruffled her sister's hair, before gently pushing her toward her quarters, where the harp-master was likely waiting. "Off you go, now. I must see to welcoming the countess and her daughters."
HALF AN HOUR later, when she finally got around to doing that task, what Melissa first noted was the looks of fright upon the faces of the Countess of Warwick, the Duchess of Clarence, and Lady Anne, her former lady-in-waiting.
"Duchess," she nodded her head in greeting. "Countess. Lady Anne."
The three women looked wary of her, but they did not break protocol; Isabel simply nodded her head, while her mother and sister curtsied, as was due of their rank.
"Welcome back to court. I trust your journey was smooth and uneventful?"
"We did not encounter any problems, no." The countess replied. "Forgive me, Your Grace, for we must attend upon my lord and husband--"
"Did Elizabeth spook you?" Melissa interrupted, eyebrows raised.
There was no answer to that question. The three ladies looked at each other, as though trying to sense a trick beneath the inquiry.
"Fear not; I do not blame you for my brother's death." The red-head sought to reassure them. "'Twas a foolish thing he did, attacking you. My husband, and even the king would have had no choice but to behead him, as well."
"The queen does not seem to think so." The countess replied coolly.
"You will find that the queen and I are two separate entities, countess." Melissa's tone was equally cool. "And regardless of whether John's beheading was just or not, it does not serve to blame you for your husband's actions. Recognizing that has been a touch harder for my sister than I."
"You are good to say so," Isabel's reply was abrupt, interrupting whatever her mother had been about to say. "We thank you for the consideration."
Melissa nodded. She paused, thinking about something, before facing the other duchess directly.
"Your daughter, Anne."
The brunette tensed. "Yes?"
"There is space in the nursery, with my own sons and daughter. If you would like, she can meet her cousins."
The Countess of Warwick opened her mouth to deny the offer, but Isabel once again cut her off. "Nan would like that," she sent her mother a sharp glare.
"Lovely!" Melissa clapped her hands together. "I shall have the nursemaids prepare for it, then."
Nodding once at Isabel and the countess, and smiling reassuringly at Anne, she swept past them, going to do just that. She had before sworn that George's daughter would never share a nursery with her own offspring, but now, the offer had only seemed right; especially with what Elizabeth had likely wreaked upon the Clarences' heads.
WESTMINSTER'S GREAT HALL was full of merry spirits when Melissa got there, accompanied by her now three year old son, whom many courtiers stopped to bow and coo at as they passed. Music from the minstrels echoed around the hall, and jugglers sat on each others shoulders, tossing objects various and sundry up in the air. Lords and ladies danced to the jolly tunes, hopping around in a saltarello, and many stood to the corner, drinking the finest of wines and exchanging gossip. Here was a cesspit of news and drama; Christmas at court always was.
"Papa!" William beamed.
Now that he had spotted his father, there was no stopping the hurdle toward him. To Richard's credit — and experience, perhaps — he gamely leaned down and picked the boy up before he collided into his legs.
"William," he ruffled his son's hair, and placed a kiss upon Melissa's forehead when she approached. "And my love. Fare you well?"
"Indeed, we do," the duchess confirmed, rubbing her belly. The babe within jolted, and she was gladdened by the signs of continued life.
"Are our terrors in bed?" Her husband joked, referring to what he had taken to calling the twins — terrors, because that was what they were, when they joined each other in wails and cries.
"Rather tired out," she nodded. "They have met their cousin, and seem curious about the new company."
"George's daughter?" Richard raised an eyebrow. "Are you certain that is wise?"
"She is only a child!" Melissa scolded her husband lightly. "Whatever can she do?"
"'Tis not her that I am worried about. My brother, or even your sister..."
"Elizabeth is far too busy to mind little Nan sharing a space with our children. I dare say she will not care, as long as Lizzie, Mary, and Cecily are not subject to such."
"One can never know," Richard sighed. He placed his son back on ground, and watched as the boy scrambled toward his nephews by his sister, Bess: John, Geoffrey, and Edward de la Pole.
"Well, I am telling you, all Elizabeth wants to do now, is to nullify the betrothal between Lizzie and the young Duke of Bedford. I would say that 'tis not a terrible match either, if she were not a king's daughter. I agree with my sister, in that she can aim higher, but a marriage to Bedford is not the end of the world."
"I could not have said it better myself," her husband grumbled. Looking around the hall, he watched the courtiers revel and dance, but felt a veneer of unease, nevertheless.
"Something is going to happen."
Melissa raised an eyebrow at him.
"Look at Warwick," he pointed at the earl, who now sat with his wife and daughters, clutching a few sheafs of parchment.
"What is he holding?" she murmured.
"Deeds of office, likely. Or land. That is how Edward has taken to pacifying the nobles, lately."
"He does not seem too happy about it," the duchess noted.
Indeed, Warwick could not seem to care less about the papers that held the king's signature and seal. They were thrown in front of him, going ignored, as he muttered something in his countess' ear.
"We have not heard the end of his rebellion." Richard affirmed. "I know George, and I know Warwick. This is certainly is not the end."
GUINEVERE PLANTAGENET WAS a small, slip of a girl, dwarfed in a heavy winter cloak too big for her. Plaits of blonde hair descended her back, and innocent blue eyes — dark blue eyes that belonged to Richard, and had once belonged to the late Duke of York — gazed around the receiving chambers, taking in the new environment curiously.
"Lady Guinevere," Melissa smiled. "Be welcome to the Palace of Westminster."
The tiny blonde finally seemed to notice her, amidst the grandeur of silks and gold. Her eyes widened, taking in the shock of red hair, the swollen belly, and William, who stood a few steps behind his mother warily.
"Are you the queen?" She finally gaped.
There was silence, except for the cough coming from one of Melissa's ladies, disguising the laughter bubbling up.
The duchess herself shook her head, smiling down kindly.
"No, sweet girl. I am the Duchess of Gloucester. To you, I am your Aunt Lissa."
"Mama is duchess." William nodded importantly. "Queen is Lizbeth."
Stifling a giggle at the butchering of her sister's name, the red-head leaned down as best as she could, extending a hand toward the child.
"Would you like to see your new chambers?"
"Mine?" The blonde's eyes widened even further.
"Yours and Will's." Melissa nodded, pointing at her son. "Eddie, Lily, and Nan — your other cousins — share an adjacent chamber."
"Yes, please," she lisped. Then, hesitantly, "Aunt Lissa."
And with that, Guinevere became a part of their household, sharing quarters with her same-aged cousin, William. They also had the same governess — the Lady Isabel Howard, eldest daughter to the first Duke of Norfolk, John Howard. She came highly recommended by her father, who was close to Richard by virtue of the late Duke of York.
On Guinevere's first night at the palace, as Melissa brushed through her own hair, she could not help but wonder — yet again — what it was about this girl that made her different from the rest of her bastard siblings. Edward did not seem to have an overabundance of affection for her — he greeted the child when she arrived by carriage, but that was about it. Perhaps there had been some feelings for the mother, whoever she had been? The possibilities were endless.
"Do not muddle your mind with it, dear-heart," Richard soothed, when she divulged her thoughts to him. "Edward will surely tell us if he has reasons of import."
Melissa chose to agree, wanting to pacify him; but still, she worried. Perhaps life at court had made her far too suspicious, but something stank from this situation. Edward could have easily chosen to leave the child behind in a nunnery, however terrible that was. Bringing her here, he also could have incorporated her with the rest of her natural siblings (and there was a wealth of them present at court). Why would he have her raised with his youngest brother? It made no sense.
She continued to debate the various reasons in her own mind, long after her husband had gone to sleep and her ladies had blown out the candles. Only the fire in the hearth blazed, enlivening the chambers with a comfortable heat and an otherworldly glow. It was staring into those embers that she finally asleep, eyes heavy and tired.
That night, she dreamt of red roses dripping with blood, turbulent seas, and the grief-stricken cries of a young mother.
THE CLARENCES AND the Nevilles left court in February. The queen breathed a sigh of relief as they did, reinvigorating her efforts to break the betrothal between her daughter and the Earl of Warwick's nephew. Now that she was sure she carried a son, she walked the halls of Westminster with purpose, knowing that soon, Edward would have his prince and she, a solidified position as Queen of England.
As Richard had predicted, she was not happy that one of her husband's bastards stood to gain the same education that a duke's son did. In fact, she railed quite heartily against it, but decided to save her effort for her own daughter. Passersby reported her saying, "If Melissa wants to soil her son's future with a baseborn girl, then who am I to stop her?" Privately, the Duchess of Gloucester commented that she hoped her sister would keep that same attitude with all matters concerning her, in the future.
It was around March that news of another rebellion began stirring unease in the court. Most had already been jumpy, anyway — the Percys were restored to their earldom of Northumberland, with John Neville, who won the Battle of Hexham for Edward, displaced. Outrage resounded in the northernmost faction of court; even the king's own mother was furious with him. To all but those who kept their eyes determinedly shut, it was clear that the Yorkist regime was becoming deeply unpopular. The Duke of Gloucester even remarked that it was like being abroad a sinking ship — he could not even jump overboard and swim to safety, as it was his own brother who was king!
Quite possibly the only one happy with the current status quo was the queen, who continued to whisper into her husband's ear and sway him this way and that. The only thing she couldn't convince him to do, it seemed, was to remove their daughter's betrothal — but that was it. Even now, whispers from the ladies who served her reached the rest of the disgruntled nobles: she sings into the fire, makes prayers to the river, and casts spells upon her locket. She is a witch! And that became the narrative about Elizabeth Woodville: a witch.
Melissa, who ever-distanced herself from her sister, strove to take care of her charges and mind her own pregnancy. She spent her days with her mother-in-law, intercepting news from whatever corner of the country they could manage, and attending the extravagant feasts Edward threw almost everyday now. Her husband grew busier and busier by the day, attending meetings and trying — in vain — to convince his brother of a milder form of approach toward the already stingy Nevilles.
"It should not be this hard, for God's sake!" He ranted one day, pacing up and down their chambers as Melissa sat on a chaise, listening to him patiently. "We are Nevilles. Our mother makes us one, and their support should be steadfast. They are our natural allies! Our one constant! But Edward has alienated them, and I fear we are too far gone!"
"You fear that irretrievable damage has been done to your relationship with Warwick." Melissa sighed understandingly. Though they were cousins, her husband viewed the man as something of a father figure, as his own was dead.
Richard shook his head, "Yes, but there is something else."
"What?"
"I fear that we have paved the way for Lancaster to make a triumphant return."
MELISSA WAS EIGHT months gone with child when the actual rebellion came about. Her husband sent out his levies and ordered men — from his domiciles and hers — to rise up to Edward's cause, so they might stamp out the wayward band of men while the movement was yet immature.
"You must be very careful," the red-head demanded of her husband. "Risk your life not, if you can help it."
"I will do what I must in service to my brother." Richard was resolute, his loyalty steadfast.
"I do not ask otherwise," Melissa insisted, shooing the squire away and fastening his breastplate herself. "I know that you must go, and that you will gladly give your life for Edward, if given the choice..." here, she paused. "But I beg of you, do not forget that you have children, and a wife who would greatly grieve you, should you pass."
His eyes softened, and he sighed. Taking a hand, he gently caressed her cheekbone, utilizing the other to give her belly a pat.
"I will not carelessly throw myself in harm's way; you need not worry about that."
"You will come back to me," Melissa affirmed. "You will come back and meet the babe, who will likely be born in your absence."
"Our Edward," he smiled.
"Or Matilda," she added, unable to stay grim in his good humor.
"Or Matilda," he agreed, leading her out into the courtyard. Elizabeth and Edward stood at a distance, having their own farewell.
Suddenly, Richard turned around and grasped both of her shoulders.
"Edward estimates that this thing will be put down by May. I am sure in his prediction, so I will see you then. But, Melissa, you must promise me — should anything go wrong, you will take the children and leave court. Flee to one of our estates — preferably Gloucester. Have them bar the gates; you will be safe there."
"I promise," Melissa sighed heavily, thinking better than to argue with him in this moment. He was clearly agitated, and she did not want to heighten his anxiety.
He nodded, relieved at her easy acquiescence.
"Tell our boys and our princess that I love them. I shall see them all very soon." He placed his hand upon her belly again, and smiled tenderly. Going down to his knees, he caressed the folds of her dress. "And you, little one ... be good for your lady mother. Do not trouble her overmuch — she goes through much pain for you." He then looked up at Melissa, still on his knees. "Dear-heart, do I have your blessing?"
She took her hands and placed them — palm down — on his head. A moment passed and she lifted them, he getting up and pressing a kiss on her left hand.
"I bless you, and I beseech you to be careful."
His lips twitched, "As you command, Your Grace."
And with one final kiss on the lips, he swung himself astride his warhorse and trotted toward Edward, the two leaving the courtyard with their men behind them.
Elizabeth and Melissa were left standing there, but neither so much as glanced at the other. They were in the deep end now.
a.n. ahhh the beginning of warwick's fall from grace. coming up: a new child, a reunion, and an interesting but bizarre interaction with margaret of anjou (though that probably won't be for another few chapters).
anyway, melissa and isabel interacted once more during christmas at court, and their exchange was surprisingly civil. i'm pondering on a friendship between these two. what do you guys think?
guinevere plantagenet came to court. some of you predicted that edward pawned her off to richard and melissa because of who her mother was, and you're not exactly wrong. guinevere's mystery has everything to do with her mother, but not because of the color of her hair or any physical resemblances to melissa. think deeper and you might just get to the answer. some (i won't say who) are very close to getting it tho 😉😉.
also, how adorable is william? i can't emphasize enough how important it is that he's growing up in london, among courtiers. this upbringing is what'll give him a significant advantage in the future, as people will know him, his values, and will have seen his attitudes and dedication.
richard is off to stamp down another rebellion, and we'll see him next chapter after the baby is born, but after that... 😬😬 well, lancaster comes to town.
i'm excited to continue writing, tho. finally, the main plot is moving forward. thank you guys so much for sticking by and supporting this story. it means more than i can say, and i hope you enjoyed this chapter.
bisous 😘 and stay safe!