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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THE MORNING LIGHT filtered through the windows of their bedchamber. It cast a golden glow upon the tiled floor, the unlit fire grate, and the expensive blue velvet of their bedspread, among other things.
Melissa slowly opened her eyes, reluctant to start the day. The first thing she noticed was the way her hair glowed in the sunlight, the burnished copper turned into a red sunset. She stared, mesmerized, reaching a hand to twirl a strand around her pointer finger.
Then, she turned her attention upon her husband, whose torso she had arms splayed over. Richard was still asleep, though he had an arm tightly wound around her, as he tended to do when they slept in the same bed (which, really, was every night they got to spend together). The lines in his face were smoothed, and — deep in a slumber — he looked at ease, more than he had for the past couple of months. She reached a hand, ran it through his dark curls, but was taken aback when his fingers grasped hers, taking them to his lips so he could lay a kiss upon each individual digit.
"Richard," she murmured softly.
"Dear-heart," he sighed back, voice hoarse with sleep. His eyes opened, taking her in. "Good morning."
"And a good morning to you," she stretched, smiling as she took her hand back. "Did I awaken you?"
"No," he denied. "I have been in and out of sleep for awhile."
"Mm," she settled against her own pillow, yawning. Reaching down, next to her side of the bed, she picked up her chemise and pulled it over her head.
Richard frowned, "Surely you are not leaving the bed already?"
Melissa smiled, amused, "Not quite. I do hear the pitter-patter of feet, though, so I suggest you garb yourself as well."
It took a moment, but realization dawned on his face. He grinned, doing as she told him, and not a moment too soon, either, as the heavy door to their chambers creaked open, a tiny figure peering through the crack. Deep blue eyes brightened when he spotted them.
