Grace FitzRoy and Cecily Neville were two sides of one deal. On Loveday in the year 1458, when York and Lancaster came together ceremonially to reconcile their two warring factions, the Duke of York and King of England struck a deal. A daughter for...
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BATTLE OF WAKEFIELD
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December 1460, Wakefield
Edmund stood on the walls of Sandal Castle, gazing at the field and the trees before it. The land seemed so serene, so quiet and untouched by what was happening in the world. The air seemed far too fresh with two armies camped practically right beside each other. Edmund could see the pillars of smoke in the distance, marking the location of the Lancastrian camp. He would never admit it out loud, but he was afraid. His father was still coming up with a plan and he had promised Edmund they would win, but Edmund was aware that the circumstances were against them.
He found himself thinking back to much happier times. Of the way Edward reeked of horse after a day of riding around their father's lands, of Marge's curls bouncing as she ran, of the squint of his mother's eyes when she laughed or smiled, of the way the light filtered into his room on mornings at Ludlow. Things seemed so much simpler back then, though it was barely two years back. A cold realization sent a shiver down his back. There was a daunting possibility that he would never see his mother again, or Edward and the rest of his siblings.
He could only imagine how they would all react. His mother with gut-wrenching grief, though she would take the brunt of it with ease and coldness and let it stew inside of her because she had to appear strong no matter what. Edward with rage and violence, and oh how much Edmund wished that would not be the case. It was unlike Edward to cause harm to anyone or anything when in the right state of mind, but he knew that he would take up his sword and raise an army with the will of his anger alone. It was perhaps the only thing that would save him in the end. It was the only thing humans answered to. Anger and fear and brutality are the only things that could quell the thirst for revenge; a fear for one's own life.
The end was coming, he could feel it in the very marrows of his bone. It was a terrifying thought, but he accepted it just as he would anything else. No one could truly escape the end when it came for them. Edmund certainly wouldn't be the first one.
He wouldn't fool himself by saying he would.
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Grace walked through the gardens of Pembroke Castle. The air was fresh and comfortable, if not a little chilly. On days like this, she loved to feel the wind blowing in her hair. The breeze was not too harsh and the sun caressed her skin just right with its warmth. She only needed a thin shawl to cover herself.
For the first time in weeks, she was able to get some alone time. Henry always clung to her desperately. He had no friends here. No children his age. Grace and Cecily were the only ones willing to play with him when Uncle Jasper wasn't able to due to work. But today, Grace wanted to be alone. She did not know why. The idea of being in silence, just taking in the world, called to her. Cecily had agreed to spend time with Henry alone that day. Despite her acceptance, Grace had the inkling feeling that she wasn't actually that alright with it. But she had nodded along anyway.
