~Home is Now Behind, the World Ahead~

21st of August 1469, the English Channel....

The tears that Bella shed were silent as she watched her homeland fade into the inky blackness of the night. The red and white linen sail fluttered above her head in the gentle breeze, reminding her yet again that she was drawing further and further away from all that had been known to her, from her family.

She had been but one hour away from her homeland of England yet already so much had changed for her, in her life, in her mind, nothing seemed the same anymore. Nothing constant, nothing true, nothing right.

The memory of stepping into the small boat that had taken her to her ship seemed so close she could almost reach out and touch it but, when she tried, all that her hopeful fingers curled around was airy nothingness and the dark expanse of the night that stretched out before her, mingling ominously with the ever dangerous depths of the sea.

And silence, only ever disturbed by the tired sigh of a sailor or the flutter of the sail that captured the wind to tear her away from her kin.

She was alone; wished there and then she had not left the confines of the Tower so willingly. Well, in body she had gone willingly, in her head, she had not.

No, in her mind she had been torn from her home and family as coldly and cruelly as a babe being ripped from their Mother's arms, only, she was no babe....she carried one. One she knew she loved and yet wished she did not have to bear for due to the fickleness of the feared wheel of fortune they were destined never to be together.

Despite the warmth of the summer's air, Bella shivered when she placed a hand to her belly that was swelled underneath the heavy confines of her skirts. She shook her head, hot tears stinging her eyes as she thought of what love, what adoration the babe in her belly had been conceived in; the words whispered against her lips, the way his fingers had touched her body, bringing her to life!

A life she was sure she would never feel again.

How could she when within her swirled a virulent hatred she now felt for the one she had shared those precious feelings with?

He had sworn with all he had that he loved her, that he would always protect her and she had believed him, she had trusted him without a second thought! She had never for one moment thought he would betray her, after all, when she had told him she was with his child he had rejoiced....or at least seemed to.

Perhaps it had been nothing more than an act? That was a thought that cut into her heart like a heated knife but there was little resistance to it for the place within her chest, once a place of love and laughter, was now one of bitterness and rage.

Hatred.

How blind had she been? How quickly had the thorns of lust scarred her sight until she saw naught but her own wistful dreams while it's twisting vines wove around her heart, preparing to crush it?

Her Mother and elder sisters had always taken care to warn her about the evil ways of men, how they would use their sugared words to coax her into sin but when she had been in his arms, their years of worldly advice had mattered little. Nay, they had mattered not at all.

Now she was to pay the painful price for her indulgence.

"You are so very lovely, Isabella Woodville"

Those few words plagued her mind like a corrosive disease, slowly eating away at what little strength she had left since he had abandoned her and their baby. Now she was alone, headed towards a land she did not know, to a husband she had never laid eyes on.

Oh, how she hated George Plantagenet.

Duke of Clarence, Earl of Richmond, the second son of York and brother to the King of England.

She hated him.
She hated him, she hated him, she hated him.
Yet she would never be able to stop loving him.

He was akin to a siren in the way he had captured her heart, binding it with chains forged in the heat of passion and pleasure that held her fast. They were unbreakable, she knew that, had known it for a long time, what she had not known was that she would ever wish to break free from those chains.

For, while they bound her, she had revelled in them because they bound her to him and it was that thought that lingered on her mind as she dragged herself below deck to her dimly lit cabin.

꧁꧂

22nd of August 1469, Calais.....

When the sun set, and glowing, amber beams cascaded onto her coverlet, Bella knew she would not be able to recall a single fragment of that desolate day.

She had simply lain stationary on her bed, her body as still as a stone effigy on a noble tomb while she sifted through the memories that filled her broken mind. They slipped through her fingers like delicate grains of sand, though she tried to cling to them, to retain one last thread of normality, of home. It was as if she were trying to cling onto smoke but all she received was the intoxicating scent of burning love.

England had long been engulfed within a conflict for the throne, a bitter, bloody feud fought between the warring Houses of York and Lancaster. Bella's Mother had been the close friend and confidant of the Lancastrian Queen, Margaret of Anjou and so her house was to whom the Woodville's gave their loyalty!

King Henry was whom they prayed for to claim victory, the red rose was the badge the Woodville men wore proudly upon the sleeves of their doublets; it's white counterpart not allowed past their home's threshold unless it was to be burnt. Raised watching her brothers leave for a war not of their making, Bella had long learnt to hate the Yorks and only felt her resentment rise when Edward of York claimed the throne in 1461, becoming Edward IV of England!

It seemed their daily prayers for Lancaster were deemed to be fruitless after all but no prayers or holy strength in Christendom could've prepared the Woodville's for the year of 1464. Indeed, nothing could have prepared the country for the secret marriage of Elizabeth Woodville to King Edward revealed in late September!

At twenty five, Elizabeth had been married before, to a Lancastrian knight and produced two fine sons, an achievement any woman would be proud of, but it was not nearly enough for her tireless ambition. Using her golden beauty and effortless charm, that held her younger siblings enthralled, it had seemed easy for her to ensnare the young King within her web of lust.

He had fallen for her like an angel falling from grace and she had fallen for him, for young Edward had his own charms, his own good looks and legendary charisma.

Bella wondered if she had used magic to capture after his heart, after all, in the natural way of things, the secret couple would be enemies....and when it came to magic, Elizabeth and some of the other Woodvilles were more than well equipped.

Ever since they had been able to walk, the story that the Woodville women were descended from the water goddess Melusina and carried magic in their veins had been told to them. They had the ability to curse and the ability to heal, the ability to hear the death of their loved ones upon the soft waves of rivers that flowed through the country, a gentle song that called to them.

Not all of Jaquetta of Luxembourg's daughters had inherited her mystical powers but Elizabeth had, so had Leena and Bella knew for a fact they had delved into the realms of spells and fortune telling before. She herself had had what their family called seeings, a foretelling of the future that was almost always true.

But she had never ventured into weaving her own spells and curses. No, she had long sworn to stay away from such things for, while her kin thought them good, she thought the curses she had the power to lay down could only cause harm.

Bella knew for a fact her eldest sister held the opposite opinion.

Elizabeth had never been one to stray away from the sun, always preferring to bask in its golden rays and now she had become the very sole object upon which the eldest son of York lavished his care and attention upon. It was just as she would have it but no longer could the Woodvilles be loyal to Lancaster, not now that one of their own had joined the bouquet of royal white roses!

And so, red roses were replaced by those of white and Bella thought she would have to fight long and hard to banish the long standing hatred for her new house within her. She knew now that even God would have laughed at her for how quickly she weakened.

All because of one man.

One handsome, charming, charismatic, arrogant young man who brought her destruction as well as her greatest happiness.

Bella groaned when she finally found the strength to move, her limbs aching painfully after many hours in the same position. She turned on her pillow and sighed. For the best part of the past four years she had turned over to see George by her side, his dark hair tousled on her sheets.

She would never see that handsome face again, but she would always remember the day he had set her heart aflame.

꧁꧂

25th of May 1465, four years earlier.....

Her golden hair loose, Bella laughed as she skipped through the emerald green fields that surrounded her country home of Grafton Manor, scattered with an array of colourful flowers. She danced amongst the sea of bright colour, hopping over the delicate petals like she would hop over the waves that splashed at the sand of coastal beaches!

In the distance her beloved home lay settled and safe, encased within a patch of woodland, tall trees of oak and various fruit she and her siblings had spent their whole lives climbing and falling from.

"Bella! Bella!" That would be her Mother or one of her elder sisters, calling her home for supper. She was never very reluctant to retreat indoors to keep her family company, after all, she got along well with them and the air was never void of a merry laugh when the Woodvilles were gathered around the trestle tables in the main hall.

Surprisingly, they liked one another!

"Bella? Bella?" She turned around, a childlike smile on her face....

"Bella!" She opened her eyes and once more found her world bathed in gold, throwing the peace of her home to the shadows that would soon be forgotten. Her sister Mary was staring intently at her, one thinly plucked eyebrow raised in question, it had quite clearly been some time since she had tried to capture Bella's attention "Have you gone deaf?" She asked and her sister shook her head, taking to staring down at the silver plate in front of her.

Her ears filled with the merry and incessant chatter that had surrounded her the entire day along with the loud cheers of the London people. That fine day was Elizabeth Woodville's coronation and the sight had been one worthy of the Lord himself! White rose petals, soft and sweet, rained down from windows as the royal party rode through the sand covered streets, York banners fluttered in the breeze.

Never had Bella seen such a magnificent display of majesty, a fact she was reminded of as her hand brushed the cuff of her gown. Made of fine cloth of silver and white damask silk, the Queen had bestowed such a gown on each of her younger sisters and each wore theirs proudly.

They were used to soft linens and wool and so felt princesses in such fine materials, even Bella could not deny that, and nor could Mary who was carefully smoothing her heavy skirts "I think you have gone deaf" she chuckled "I have been calling your name for all but a minute!" Bella sighed, looking up and down the long trestle tables she and the rest of the coronation guests were seated at, each sampling the delightful morsels laid out for their pleasure.

"Why?" She asked, trying not to dwell upon the memories of her old home for it would only make her miss it more. Mary merely grinned and turned in her chair, pointing to the centre of the hall where couples had gathered to dance and motioning for her sister to do the same.

A light laugh filled the air and a flash of bright red hair swirled before her eyes as Bella finally saw what Mary had been trying to point out. In the centre of the hall stood their little sister, Leena, just twelve years of age, though not many would believe it based upon her handsome partner who twirled her around with an effortless grace.

The Duke of Clarence, George Plantagenet.

A menace to the world, that was the only way to describe Eleanor Woodville. Chaos was always close when she was near, her green eyes glinting with mischief and the whimsical dreams of a child who longed for the adventure her country life could not bring!

Heaven help the man who married her, Bella thought as she watched her little sister hop from side to side in time with the music, grinning from ear to ear. Whichever Lord was lucky enough to claim her would have their hands full, that was for sure!

Perhaps none would be able to claim her for Eleanor's loyalty was already firmly given to her elder sister, Elizabeth. If Elizabeth was the sun, then Leena was the moon, always following in her wake like a small, redheaded shadow, ready and willing to do her elder sister's bidding!

It was something that often grated Bella's nerves to shreds but she did not mind too much, or at least did not in that moment, for Eleanor was beaming as if she were the happiest child in the world! The little girl had always secretly harboured dreams of royal grandeur and now, dancing with a Royal Duke, they appeared to be coming true! Her sister could not help but smile.

Tapping her feet to the music, she continued to watch her sister hop and twirl in her gown of silver and white, her skirts elegantly billowing around her but it was not long until her attention was diverted.

To none other than the Duke himself.

It had not been the first time she had spied him, no, that had been when the Woodvilles had arrived at court the previous October and he had helped Eleanor from her horse but she had not seen him since. Nor had he much crossed her mind, she had been too consumed with the grandeur of court, with the Lady's jewels and silken gowns!

He had been away in the North with his little brother Richard, Duke of Gloucester (who now sat beside her) but had returned to court for the Queen's coronation.

They had spoken a little on that day for his seat was opposite Mary's and, upon taking his place, had likened the Woodville sisters to beautiful fish! Rather stung by this, Bella had retorted that she would prefer to be a beautiful fish than a 'handsome dog' but rather than take offence to this, as she thought he might, George had merely grinned.

That had interested her and she tried to study him while she watched him dance with her sister. His hair was light brown, akin to the chestnuts she loved to collect in the autumn, and she remembered how it had shone in the sun that day, how his brown eyes had become alight with mischief when he looked at her.

His clothes were of the finest quality, a shining doublet of cloth of gold with important chains of office sitting firmly on his shoulders despite him only being fifteen!

It was rather clear he had acquired a taste for the finer things in life but who could blame him for that? He was the son of a Duke and the brother of a King, why should he not expect the best from his life?

So deep she was in her aimless observation, she was rather startled when his brown eyes suddenly met hers, locking their gazes in a look that was as innocent as it was enticing. She did not know why.

Clearly Eleanor had said something about her and he nodded in polite greeting. A hot flush began to creep up her neck and so she hurried in her reply, waving before she turned back around in her seat.

Bella reached for her goblet, snatching up the fine silver and taking a sharp sip of the sweet red wine that filled it. Fie upon her, she thought, for what had caused such an undignified reaction? The boy had scarce looked at her and she had all but fallen to the floor!

Where was the Bella that prided herself upon her sensibility and rationality that she had grown to let govern her as she grew? Where was the grace with which she now had to conduct herself as sister to the Queen of England?

She was sixteen, almost a woman grown in her own mind (though truly she was still an innocent in the ways of the world), she should know better than to crumble from one look, she never had before!

"Are you quite well? You look rather flushed"
Bella looked up as she was addressed to see Isabel Neville smiling sweetly at her. But no, the smile on the younger girl's lips was sweet to the point that it was almost sickening, smug, as if she were harbouring a dangerous secret only she knew. One she could not wait to unleash upon the world.

Isabel's Father was the Earl of Warwick, the most powerful Earl in the land who had made it apparent from the moment the Woodvilles arrived at court that he was opposed to the King's bride! Sour looks had been thrown at the new Queen's family from almost all the nobles, after all, as the daughter of a squire, Elizabeth was a commoner to them but Warwick's enduring glares were not sour, they were poisonous.

Even now, as he sat at the coronation feast, his face was grim and resentful while he watched the flaxen haired Queen, garbed in gold, whisper with her beloved King.

He had two daughters, Isabel, the elder who had followed her Father's lead when it came to the Woodvilles and made it no secret she looked down her nose at them, and Anne, only eight and seemingly a sweet child but quiet. Bella inwardly sighed, staring into the eyes of pale blue that blatantly scrutinised her from across the table.

Isabel smirked and pushed her shoulders back as if she were the Queen, making Bella's skin prickle with annoyance and Mary discreetly placed a hand on her arm "I suppose it is to be expected, you common folk must not be used to grandeur such as this"

While the music and dancing carried on around them, the world grew silent to Bella at that moment while she stared at Isabel. Honey haired Anne looked up at her sister in horror, the biscuit she was about to put into her small mouth hovering in mid air and the Duke of Gloucester raised his eyebrows, reaching for more wine. He had clearly dealt with Isabel's jibes before and now it was Bella's turn to do so.

And deal she would.

She would not disgrace her family with a rage and loose tongue that was sure to run away with her if she let it. No, she would do as her Mother and sisters had taught her and win her victory with grace. Jaquetta Woodville had done just that when she and her daughters had been presented to Duchess Cecily (the King's Mother and one who shared Warwick's dangerous views) and the it had become an encounter the Yorkist court would not soon forget!

Bella was determined to do the same.

Picking up her goblet again, she took another sip and relished the liquid on her tongue before plastering a smile (as sickly as the Neville girl's) onto her lips. She was more than a match for the petty words that Isabel had no doubt gleaned from her sulking Father.

"No, my lady" she replied sweetly, shrugging off Mary's hand "I was simply reflecting upon the revelation that noble blood, such as you possess, does not always ensure grace and decorum as one would wish. In fact, it seems to me as if it secured nothing but a selfish arrogance that even a commoner such as me finds repugnant. Do you not agree, Lady Isabel?"

Beside her, the young Duke choked on his mouthful of Burgundian wine and she knew she had won when the spiteful light drained from Isabel's eyes. The girl sniffed primly, sweeping her dark braid over one slight shoulder, her cheeks colouring an embarrassed crimson.

"Are you quite well, my lady?" Bella enquired and beside her she could feel Mary shaking with concealed laughter, covering her mouth with a silver sleeve "you look rather flushed!" Isabel glared at her, opening her mouth to speak but Anne quickly shook her head and soon her sister did the same, conceding defeat. Bella tilted hers, maintaining her smile "good" she said cooly as the music of the dance ended and the court erupted into applause.

"Well done, Leena!" Elizabeth Woodville called from the high dais, rising to her feet to applaud Eleanor who was beaming, even more so when King Edward joined her in her paise. Now it was Bella's turn to smirk.

"Excuse me" she announced, rising elegantly from her seat "I must go and attend my sister, the Queen"