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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MY DEAR AUNT Cecily,
Even the writing of this letter grieves me, for I never imagined that this would be our end. I never conceived that this is what we would come to; that mistrust, betrayal, and bloodshed would be what concludes our years-long, doubtless familial partnership.
You must know: It was never my intention to turn my back on you. I have ever been your truest supporter, your sons' most dedicated mentor. I considered Edward - and, indeed, George and Richard - as the sons I never had. They each held spots in my heart equal only to that of my daughters', and that still remains so. Even after everything, I still value our kinship, and the history that we share. I promise you that - no matter what - that will never change.
However, my grievance with Edward runs too deep for me to remain silent. It has been a daily occurrence - for the past few years - for me sit idle and suffer insult after insult as your son's less-than-worthy wife continues to threaten my position, undermining my authority with each step and breath that she takes in court. She not only flaunts what superiority she believes she has, but she also misuses it, arranging unworthy matches for her equally lowborn siblings to promote her own interests, while dipping her toes into politics that her foolish, one-track mind could never hope to understand. It is a travesty that she was allowed to carry on with the king in the first place, but ne'er mind that.
What is worse than that is how Edward allows it to happen; he allows that witch and her mother to run amok and ruin plans that have been carefully cultivated for years, allows them to alienate allies who helped him obtain the throne in the first place. In my own case, I consider it laughable that I was once his most trusted confidante, as he now seems to prize that shrew's opinion over everyone else's. It has been - and will continue to be - his ruin; for so long as we allow it to happen.
