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...
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"SHHH, NED. WE must not wake mama. Shhh..."
A high-pitched giggle. Some shuffling. More shushing.
"Mama!" their youngest son squealed, even as his father hurried to quiet him.
Her face buried in her pillow, Melissa could not help the smirk that rose upon her lips.
"Mama!" Ned cried again, this time more demandingly.
"Ned!" Richard chided. "Mama is asleep. Come, let us go see Eddie and Lily."
"Lil," the toddler cooed, butchering his sister's name. "Lil."
Hearing footsteps headed toward the doorway, Melissa chose that moment to yawn loudly, stretching her arms above her head in an exaggerated manner.
"My love?"
She opened her eyes, sitting halfway up, and smirked at her husband. "Richard," she sighed. "You are still here."
"I could not leave before bidding you farewell." He smiled softly, sitting down on the bed and pressing a kiss on her forehead.
"Mama!" Ned shrieked. He extended his arms toward his mother, and the red-head took him into her embrace, smiling contentedly.
"He is quite a mama's boy, is he not?" Richard smiled, amused.
"He is," Melissa nodded happily. "But Will and Eddie are your boys, through and through. 'Tis only fair if our daughter and this little one prefer me."
"I suppose I cannot complain," he chuckled, adjusting himself to a more comfortable position on the bed. Only then did she notice his attire.
A frown. "You are already dressed." Indeed, he was in full armor, fitted with chainmail, with an empty sheath strapped to his belt. The only thing missing was his sword, and she soon spotted that, too, leaned against the wall.
