The year is 1464.
The War of the Roses rages on; a great showdown between Lancaster and York.
Yet, asleep in her bed, fiery-haired Melissa Woodville dreams of splintered shields, broken swords, and the resounding screams of wounded men in the Battle...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"SO GOOD THINGSdo come to those who wait, after all," was the only warning Melissa got the morning after the hunt, as Margaret of York and her sister swept into her chambers.
"These rooms are too small, now that you are a marchioness." Duchess Bess stated, her eyes roaming over the space critically.
"Mother is having the Rose Room readied for you." Margaret — or Meg, as she had gleefully insisted last night at dinner — informed her.
"The Rose Room?" Melissa started. "But isn't that--?"
"The room traditionally reserved for the eldest princess?" Duchess Bess smirked knowingly. "Yes. But we have no princesses at present, and should the queen birth one, the babe will have no business being anywhere other than in a nursery. And besides, Ned has already agreed."
"He has?"
"Mhm," Meg nodded, dramatically slumping herself across a chaise. "You are practically family already."
"I am?" Melissa felt herself grow more and more baffled by situation the more the sisters talked.
"Oh, come off it, Melissa." Duchess Bess brushed her off, running her hands across the velvet of the bedding. "Dickon is courting you. The first of our brothers, getting properly married." She looked up at Meg's pointed cough. "No offense to your dear sister, of course, but we were all most put out by, well ... everything."
"Richard and I are not married!" The red-head's face flamed at the idea.
"Not yet, anyway." Meg pointed out. "In any case, we have come bearing gifts." She waved a lazy hand at the doorway, and in stepped two young-looking ladies; one of them blonde, the other, a brunette.
Melissa frowned. "Who are they?"
The blonde stepped forward.
"I am Lady Elizabeth Tilney, if it please you, Lady Rockingham." She smiled sweetly. "I have been given leave by my lord father to serve you in whichever way you deem fit."
